Evidence of Williamsburg’s post-hipster identity crisis: The other night, a few friends (including her and him) and I found ourselves at The Metropolitan and sometime around 1 AM, this tune came on. I wasn’t the only one singing along, accidentally tipping over my drink. In fact, many were not only singing, but dancing very vivaciously. It was all exceptionally maenadic. Usually this place won’t play anything but New Order or Fever-era Kylie Minogue.