I’ve loved the accordion for a long time, but I first picked one up last year while living in Amsterdam. America has had a fraught relationship with the squeezebox, from the Polka craze of the 1950s, to its complete cultural rejection epitomized by Gary Larson in the 1980s, to its current hipster cachet thanks to the popularity of bands like Beirut and Gogol Bordello.
Me, I don’t want any of that cultural baggage. I keep it simple: grab a handle of Stoli, sneak up to the roof under cover of darkness, and serenade the city of New York until the bottle is finished or I pass out, whichever’s first.
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