it is live people. the 14 seat momofuku ko site is up and taking reservations

http://reservations.momofuku.com

you have to register to activate your account, and note, yahoo, gmail, hotmail accounts are delayed in getting activation emails so best to use a work one.

Photo credit: Bryan Bruchman

Tired? Cold? Soul worn down by an 11-hour work day? Head fogged by the mid-week blues? Me too. Good thing there was a cure in town on Wednesday night: Los Angeles-based Dengue Fever, touring in support of their excellent new album “Venus on Earth.”

U.S. soldiers brought psychedelia, garage and surf rock to Southeast Asia during the Vietnam war; Cambodian singers borrowed from these styles to create a vibrant fusion that flourished until the brutal advent of the Khmer Rouge in 1975. Ethan Holtzman (keyboards) discovered cassettes of pre-regime pop on a 1997 trip to Cambodia, and with his brother Zac (guitar and vocals) formed Dengue Fever: part homage, part re-invention.

None of this would be possible without Cambodian frontwoman/superstar Ch'hom Nimol, who's begun singing in English as well as Khmer. "Tiger Phone Card," from the new album, is a joyously sappy duet between Ch'hom and Zac Holtzman—and it was even better live than on the record, mostly because of the way Ch'hom emotes lines like "You only call me when you're drunk." She could sing in any language she wanted, and chances are you'd know exactly what she means. With her expressive voice, go-go boots and lip gloss Ch'hom is a true heiress to Nancy Sinatra's throne, queen of the accusatory finger-point followed by a forgiving shimmy.

At Southpaw the rest of the band was in fine form too: Zac Holtzman and bassist Senon Williams spent much of the evening pogoing in unison, even after Holtzman's pants ripped down the leg. Trumpeter Omar Akil (on loan from former tourmates Cordero) sat in on several numbers, swapping horn lines with saxophonist David Ralicke. The long set included old and new material, starting with "New Year's Eve" from the band’s 2003 self-titled debut; that meant Ch'hom had plenty of opportunities to do the twist, but perhaps the night's most riveting moment was the a capella intro of "Hold My Hips," a powerful display of her vocal capabilities. By the encore the floor was shaking from moving bodies and bass and everyone on stage was sweaty—you could call it a world music dance party, or you could just call it a dance party. —Mary Phillips-Sandy