SOME THINGS YOU learn when you're young are not that useful, like calculus or the art of making a bong out of an apple. Other things you learn when you're young stay with you your whole life. On New Year's Eve 2004, I was employing a skill I perfected 10 years ago, at the age of 15: using a goth girl's lipstick to fake a hand stamp. It had a lot more meaning when I was underage and trying to sneak in to see punk bands at a country-and-western bar in North Hollywood, but the essence is still the same.

Feeling like you're getting old is a creeping sensation, but feeling young hits you in sharp, bright flashes, unexpectedly. Like at 12:30 a.m. on New Year's Day, crammed in a 90-degree warehouse in China Basin, dancing to a Joy Division cover band. Were people imagining they were at the Factory in 1979? I don't think so. Were they partying hard enough to bring Ian Curtis back to life? Yes.

By the time I was a teenager, Joy Division was already a relic, so the feeling wasn't nostalgia. Actually, it was the chaos of the whole thing – cops outside, dirty warehouse, heaving drunken mayhem – that made me feel like maybe things aren't that different from how they were in 1994. OK, now I have mounting credit-card debt and a slow metabolism. It's not as easy to get away with midriff-baring shirts and saying whatever I want, whenever I want. But have things really changed that much? There are still plenty of crazy adventures to be had; it's just that, now, sneaking out of your parents' house isn't part of the mission.

You can't actually be young forever. The hangovers are worse these days, addictions are harder to kick, and friends are harder to keep. New bands keep on sounding like old bands, and it gets more difficult to find things that seem fresh. But only a fool would stop noticing the little stupid things that make the world feel new again. Sometimes those are the only things worth living for.

The old school

Funnily enough, what makes me feel really old is hearing music from the '80s and '90s when I go out. Conversely, hearing new music makes me feel really alive. I had one last hurrah on New Year's Day night at Popscene's Madchester party. Some barely legal Norwegian brothers were in town, and a Stone Roses cover band was playing, so off we went. It was a good time floppy dancing to Lush and Ride. It was fun thinking that all these kids were seven years old when the entire indie rock world first made out to "I Wanna Be Adored." And 18-year-olds, bless their hearts, know how to party like it's 1992. Plus, they've got a lot of energy, and they're fun to be with on a dance floor (although sometimes when they open their mouths it ruins the illusion).

But for 2004 in general, please let me hear no more of Bell Biv Devoe's "Poison" and Prince's "Little Red Corvette." For the love of God, put away New Order's "Bizarre Love Triangle" and all those pre-1990 Michael Jackson records. I promise the Beauty Bar and Hush Hush Lounge won't go out of business. You don't have to play electronic music (although there are a lot of damn good 12-inches coming out). You can still rock a party with metal and pop and slow jams. But no more musical nostalgia for the Reagan years and the reign of George Bush Sr. It's not helping the revolution.

As I was looking through the club listings, I couldn't find one party to recommend to you that didn't have some retro element, from punk to reggae to hip-hop to house. If you're throwing one, e-mail me and let me know. And I promise I won't wear my leg warmers.

If you're going to listen to old-school, at least make it house. Techno, electro-funk, and regressive house are on tap at Riot!, with Monty Luke, Jonah Sharp, M3 and Mark Johns, Thurs., 10 p.m.-2 a.m., Top, 424 Haight, S.F. $5. (415) 864-7386.

Soul, funk, Latin, and jazz, with Matthew Africa, O-Dub, and Cool Chris, at Popcorn, Jan. 16, 10 p.m.-2 a.m., Milk, 1840 Haight, S.F. $5. (415) 387-6455.

And now for something really old-school ... Hoot'nanny Bingo Party, hosted by Clare De Loon and Miss Jen, Thurs., 6-9 p.m., Sadie's Flying Elephant, 429 Potrero, S.F. Free. (415) 551-7988.