New York-—Adam Joseph sits on a white-crackle painted barstool in a French provincial-like bistro on the corner of Broadway and Bleeker Street. With textured wallpaper, small wooden chairs, bright lighting and floral-printed pillows, the atmosphere is subdued and cozy. This leaves the 25-year-old nightlife-living party boy/recording artist/songwriter/producer, accustomed to the darkly lit crowded New York house music-thumping underground, a bit out of his element. "I've never been here before," he shares while sipping cola through a straw. Though Joseph is a frequent face seen at Mr. Black, the garden-floored East Village nightclub next door, it's just past 9:30 p.m.-—too early for the club to be hopping and therefore too early for him to be out. He's usually never in the neighborhood before the bistro closes for the night. "I've always wondered what it was like," he adds, ordering chicken wings and celebrating their arrival with, "Chicken wings! Yay!"