Who’d imagine that a club with such an inelegant name would turn out to be so chic and lovely? Floor-length drapes; dim red light; unmatched mirrors, and hip kids who stop short of being poisonously fashionable. The room is filling slowly, Jean Grae is on the overhead speakers, and I’m plugging away on my MacBook behind Lazerbeak at the merch booth. I like it here. Thanks San Francisco.