This Week in the Voice: Sandhogs Under Second Avenue

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This week in the Voice, out today: Sean Manning follows the Second Avenue sandhogs: "Here for 470 million years there had been rock, there are now two 20-foot diameter, butter-smooth concrete tubes--a giant, mile-long double-barrel shotgun buried 100 feet below the Upper East Side... Scant attention has been paid to those who help operate the TBM, and who also, in three around-the-clock shifts of 30 or so men, have spent the past half-decade dynamiting and drilling and sledgehammering and wheelbarrowing and welding and mucking and generally risking life and limb."

Robert Sietsema runs to eat rabbit at Zero Otto Nove, which features locations both in the Bronx and Flatiron: "Lush with the success of Roberto, Paciullo opened Zero Otto Nove ('089') on Arthur Avenue in 2008, named after Salerno's telephone area code. Riding a wave of Naples-style pizza fetishism, the place focused on pies, but a full southern Italian bill of fare was also available, delivered in belly-busting portions. "

Maura Johnston sums up the challenges of Spotify, a streaming-music service that has come stateside from Sweden: "The question, though, lies in how complete any streaming-music service can be without heavy augmentation from its user base--and that's with leaving aside the thousands upon thousands of out-of-print albums that have been flushed down the memory hole with only the occasional MediaFire link to serve as a reminder of their existence."

In film, Melissa Anderson reviews Pablo Larraín's Post Mortem, which: "is set during the onset of the Pinochet-led (and U.S.-backed) coup against the nation's socialist government in 1973--three years before the director and co-writer was born--and it's filled not just with corpses but also the living dead."

Michael Feingold compares Broadway producer Jeffrey Richards' recent revivals of Gore Vidal's Best Man, writing: "Richards's new production is directed by Michael Wilson...Wilson's solution is to turn Vidal's cannily structured, snarkily funny drama into a big, noisy party, like the political convention at which it is set, complete with video simulcasts, blaring patriotic tunes, actors invading the aisles, ushers in Styrofoam boaters decorated with red-white-and-blue ribbons, and a celebrity-heavy cast that indulges in a good deal of outrageous but thoroughly entertaining ham bone."

And in art, Robert Shuster checks out the boxlike constructions at the Allan Stone Gallery: "The series begins with stagecraft. Al Wolfson's miniature, meticulously detailed dioramas--a Lexington Avenue subway station and the interior of a grungy walk-up, both circa 1983--suggest two intense but fleeting memories. The solemn, shadowy views hint at moments of long-past significance."

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