The bar: Sophie's 6th and Avenues A and B
The Scene: A good crowd of gritty escapists, who wouldn't be seen anywhere but the East Village's authentic longstanding Dives. I've heard locals of the area call it "a place they grew-up with, which makes sense as it is cheap, hip and notoriously relaxed on carding minors. A good place to see a really drunk person, if that sort of thing entertains you. The bartenders are generally tall and well-tattooed. The people are friendly and the atmosphere is open, but cliques formed within can be seemingly judgmental.
The Space: Dark, curiously smoky (despite being technically non-smoking), the bathrooms are the only extension to the open room, with enough room for a tables, the bar and a pool table. The bathrooms have great user-edited graffiti knife-fights. Neither the space nor the vibes seem to invite dancing, but during the right song someone will make-do.
The Juke: An old, beat-up, slightly-sticky 100 album, with plenty of bartender mixes and somewhat local music. Seems to a have a good mix of "bar-rock" with leanings towards the louder and edgier. Positioned awkwardly near the pool table, but with enough room to deliberate without getting jabbed in the kidneys.
The song: Radiohead "Creep." Creep launched "the biggest rock-band in the world's" career with a post-grunge whine-fest that still influences rock's landscapes thematically, but draws off the the early-nineties aesthetic musically. The selection seems way to cliche and mainstream for the bar, so they P-button may be lying (this does seem like the kind of place where a bar-tender would frustratedly unplug the box). However, there are some valid reason's why "Creep" might have made it honestly. It is a great depressed, loner, bar song (and there are no-shortage of them here), the chorus: "I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here?" resonates with this set; as a frequent member, I would know. The sing-a-long-ability also makes it a good replay option. The fabled predilection for under-age girl patrons makes a humorous implication. The pre-chorus: "I thought I was special, so fucking special," isn't taken as ironically here, as you'd think, people here do seem to think they're a little special.
The Bar: Cherry Tavern. Between 1st and Avenue A on 6th St.
The Scene: A mix of Hispanic billiard sharks and the younger set looking for a cheap drink. A genuinely hip feel, not too crowded unless it's a weekend, drinks are reasonable and the bartenders are generally pretty friendly. Got a strange feeling of deja vu after coming from Sophie's, but The Cherry isn't quite as run-down and hence not as cool. It does have better drink specials though.
The Space: A smaller bar, that fills the small room. The back has just enough room for the pool table. The bathrooms are well graffitti-ed and are just big enough to make-out in, in a pinch.
The Juke: Prominently featured right across from the bar, the juke was playing even though it was "Ipod night" (a troubling new trend in many bars with good jukes). It was well audible from the bar, but at the booths the clatter of the pool table, and the robust resonances of a small concrete room make for a less pleasant listening experience. Well stocked with eclectic, but not very unique selections.
The Song: NWA's "Straight Outta Compton" was a pioneering hip-hop hit introducing the world to two who would become some of the industries biggest players in a "Hey, Hey were the Monkees" sort of way. The first track on the bands seminal album of the same name it is one of old school hip-hops essential tracks, but this is no old school hip-hop bar. In fact I don't recall ever seeing any one in hip hop gear here, African-American or otherwise. I was so confused by the selection that I asked the bartender if he could shed some light and he was just as incredulous. When I told him about my experiment, he ponied up 2 bucks to put on the top five selections (even proving that turning it off doesn't effect the memory, by giving me a quick demo) Beastie Boys, Radiohead, and Nirvana were among the other selections, which made more sense. The bartender was baffled by the absense of the Talking Head's live version of Psycho Killer (from "Stop Making Sense"), which apparently gets played "every night." The song still felt wildly inappropriate in the setting, the energy was too high, but the tough guy pretensions seemed to resonate well off of the pool table.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
P-button 4/10
Had time for a quick Juke yesterday before open-mic
The bar: The Patriot Pub on Chambers between Church and Broadway
The Scene(s): The Pub is a 2 in 1 the up stairs has a separate bar, with a different tender and a different juke. Both scenes basically the same as clientèle freely wander from upstairs to down generally settling where they prefer the bartender. In the afternoon it was less than half full of a strange TriBeCa mix of depressing old barflies, business men and young dart throwers. The bartenders are scantily clad busty ladies, who try to live up to the sign outside soliciting for "shameless slut bartenders," to inquire within. Conversations were at a minimal level, leaving men to try to chat up the bartender who was only wearing a bra as a shirt. Upstairs the vibes were similar, in fact, there wasn't a single conversation that didn't revolve around the sexy, fast-drinking bartender, who had a shot with every guy sitting there.
The Space(s): The jukebox from downstairs could be heard softly, when the one upstairs ran out of money the bartender got upset with her patrons demanding that they feed it immediately. Strangely the jukeboxes were both positioned close to the stairs, encouraging leakage from bar to bar. The downstairs is open and has a pulsating clang from the video games and dart board that were getting good use. Upstairs was slightly more quiet, and smaller, but had background noise from a small kitchen that doled out sliders and other hastily assembled bar snacks.
The Juke(s): Disappointingly, despite exhibiting two jukeboxes of different models, the selection was identical downstairs and up. Mostly full of divey bar rock, with a lot of country and southern rock thrown in for good measure and an extra dose of Americana (a theme that lies mostly implicit to the bar's image). When I played Meatloaf's "Paradise By the Dashboard Light" with my other selection the bartender turned it down with her audio controller (most bartenders have hidden control of their Jukeboxes, that they generally only exersise when they need to make an announcement), and threatened to kill anyone who plays Meatloaf again. I slunk down, and was thankfully not indicated by anyone. When I played Jerry Jeff Walker's "Mr. Bojangles" downstairs the mood got somewhat somber and people moved their heads and mouthed along some of the words. The lack of conversations here made the music an important shaper of the bars energy.
The Songs: Downstairs was another notch for Charlie Daniels "Devil Went Down to Georgia." For an examination of this song see my review of "Doc Holiday's." Here the tune seemed to have more of a special reason for being most popular. Since being used in the film "Coyote Ugly," the song has inspired many young ladies to dance on bars when it comes on. Right when the opening fiddle started the bartender got excited and jumped on the bar and started to slowly hula hoop (complete with exaggerated hip motions) for everyones amusement. So there is a utility to chosing "Devil Went Down to Georgia" at least when she was working. Upstairs the most popular song was curiously different (given that you have the same selection and clientèle). Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama" is one of classic rock's most famous songs, it has been used in commercials and movies and is one that most rock fans can recite from memory. When it played the bartender was excited to be relieved from "Meatloaf" and echoed Van Sandt's "Turn it up" after the first two bars of the unmistakable intro. While the bartender upstairs didn't dance on the bar, she did enjoy the song to the point of changing her temperment and starting to pour shots for herself and unsuspectinng patrons at a generous and alarming rate. On both floors it paid to play popular.
The bar: The Patriot Pub on Chambers between Church and Broadway
The Scene(s): The Pub is a 2 in 1 the up stairs has a separate bar, with a different tender and a different juke. Both scenes basically the same as clientèle freely wander from upstairs to down generally settling where they prefer the bartender. In the afternoon it was less than half full of a strange TriBeCa mix of depressing old barflies, business men and young dart throwers. The bartenders are scantily clad busty ladies, who try to live up to the sign outside soliciting for "shameless slut bartenders," to inquire within. Conversations were at a minimal level, leaving men to try to chat up the bartender who was only wearing a bra as a shirt. Upstairs the vibes were similar, in fact, there wasn't a single conversation that didn't revolve around the sexy, fast-drinking bartender, who had a shot with every guy sitting there.
The Space(s): The jukebox from downstairs could be heard softly, when the one upstairs ran out of money the bartender got upset with her patrons demanding that they feed it immediately. Strangely the jukeboxes were both positioned close to the stairs, encouraging leakage from bar to bar. The downstairs is open and has a pulsating clang from the video games and dart board that were getting good use. Upstairs was slightly more quiet, and smaller, but had background noise from a small kitchen that doled out sliders and other hastily assembled bar snacks.
The Juke(s): Disappointingly, despite exhibiting two jukeboxes of different models, the selection was identical downstairs and up. Mostly full of divey bar rock, with a lot of country and southern rock thrown in for good measure and an extra dose of Americana (a theme that lies mostly implicit to the bar's image). When I played Meatloaf's "Paradise By the Dashboard Light" with my other selection the bartender turned it down with her audio controller (most bartenders have hidden control of their Jukeboxes, that they generally only exersise when they need to make an announcement), and threatened to kill anyone who plays Meatloaf again. I slunk down, and was thankfully not indicated by anyone. When I played Jerry Jeff Walker's "Mr. Bojangles" downstairs the mood got somewhat somber and people moved their heads and mouthed along some of the words. The lack of conversations here made the music an important shaper of the bars energy.
The Songs: Downstairs was another notch for Charlie Daniels "Devil Went Down to Georgia." For an examination of this song see my review of "Doc Holiday's." Here the tune seemed to have more of a special reason for being most popular. Since being used in the film "Coyote Ugly," the song has inspired many young ladies to dance on bars when it comes on. Right when the opening fiddle started the bartender got excited and jumped on the bar and started to slowly hula hoop (complete with exaggerated hip motions) for everyones amusement. So there is a utility to chosing "Devil Went Down to Georgia" at least when she was working. Upstairs the most popular song was curiously different (given that you have the same selection and clientèle). Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama" is one of classic rock's most famous songs, it has been used in commercials and movies and is one that most rock fans can recite from memory. When it played the bartender was excited to be relieved from "Meatloaf" and echoed Van Sandt's "Turn it up" after the first two bars of the unmistakable intro. While the bartender upstairs didn't dance on the bar, she did enjoy the song to the point of changing her temperment and starting to pour shots for herself and unsuspectinng patrons at a generous and alarming rate. On both floors it paid to play popular.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Methods
If anyone else wants to help me or wants to try this fun social experiment, here are some principles that will help you get the most of the "P-button."
Check out the bar first and see what kind of Juke they have. Many bars have internet jukeboxes, which I despise for reasons I will address in a future post. Some bars have no jukebox, and the bartender acts as DJ, this is an authoritarian method of music that sort of makes sense in a space where the bartender is judge, jury and has the ability to cut you off. Sometimes the DJ is an independent entity, who will take requests in theory, but generally politely tell you to shove them. The best way to ensure a egalitarian (although slightly economically determined) method of music selection is the old fashioned analog jukebox, and the P-button is a window into the clientèle.
There are ways to spot the kind of bars that will have analog jukeboxes:
Dives, western themed bars, un-themed generic bars, punk-clubs, college bars, and pubs will generally have jukeboxes and are worth checking.
Clubs, bars with lines out the doors, bars with dance-floors, large multi-story bars, hipster fashion district bars, music venues, cocktail lounges, sports bars, and gentlemen's clubs wont have jukeboxes with rare exceptions.
The P-button and the selections available give you a window into what kind of people run, work at and patronize the bar. If the selections bother you, it may not be your bar. Always check the juke before buying a drink in a strange bar. If you like the selections, then check the P-button, you can see what comes up usually without any quarters, or even if you have to put money in, it will come up as it's selected, so you can use that to help determine if it's worth investing in a drink. If the selections available are a window into what the bar wants to be the P-button is a window into what it actually is. Sometimes bars have great selections, but often the P-button is a fairly banal choice among them. This shouldn't be too discouraging because it is a common reality, but also bear in mind that it is generally the regulars who will come back to the same song.
Some bar patrons will return to the same song every time to set a mood that they want, or to engage their fellow drinkers in a sing-a-long. For example, many bars will invariably play Journey (usually "Don't Stop Believin') because it's cheesy, drunk idiot music that will usually get people to follow a sing-a-long. Also, its use in the final episode of "The Sopranos" makes it a jukebox favorite. Since most discriminating jukeboxes wont offer this as a selection, this trend is usually only suffered with Internet Jukeboxes. Ideally a most popular selection would be a statistical measurement of the bars musical leanings.
Sometimes the P-button is misleading though, many bars will unplug their jukeboxes at night to push out patrons after last call. Some selections will be repeated by the same trickster, or a bartender, which wont be as telling, but will still give you an idea of what kind of person would come here regularly or work. If a selection particularly baffles you, it's best to ask a bartender or someone who seems like a regular, this won't get you much information in my experience, but it's worth a shot, maybe it will lead to an experience that will enable you to form a more likely guess as to why the song was chosen.
When the most popular song plays, or any song that night for that matter, you should observe the clientèle, is one group dancing and singing? Maybe they are responsible. Are many people getting excited? Does someone crack a guilty smile? Simple observation is the easiest and perhaps most telling way of determining why this song is the most popular. If a lot of people seem to enjoy it and there isn't a specific amount of excitement from any particular person or group, then the song may actually hold statistical merit and be drawn from a fair sample of patrons.
Now is the fun part. Think about every aspect of the song: The meter, the instruments used, the cultural implications, the genre, the tonality, the length, the year it was released and think about it within the context of the selections available. Take what you can learn or know about the song and think about it within the space of the bar. How does it fit? Is it paradoxical? Does it serve a type of person? Does it serve the bar's image?
I hope some people post, or at least try this. Through appreciation and demand, we can save the CD jukebox and resist the soul-less internet based ones.
Check out the bar first and see what kind of Juke they have. Many bars have internet jukeboxes, which I despise for reasons I will address in a future post. Some bars have no jukebox, and the bartender acts as DJ, this is an authoritarian method of music that sort of makes sense in a space where the bartender is judge, jury and has the ability to cut you off. Sometimes the DJ is an independent entity, who will take requests in theory, but generally politely tell you to shove them. The best way to ensure a egalitarian (although slightly economically determined) method of music selection is the old fashioned analog jukebox, and the P-button is a window into the clientèle.
There are ways to spot the kind of bars that will have analog jukeboxes:
Dives, western themed bars, un-themed generic bars, punk-clubs, college bars, and pubs will generally have jukeboxes and are worth checking.
Clubs, bars with lines out the doors, bars with dance-floors, large multi-story bars, hipster fashion district bars, music venues, cocktail lounges, sports bars, and gentlemen's clubs wont have jukeboxes with rare exceptions.
The P-button and the selections available give you a window into what kind of people run, work at and patronize the bar. If the selections bother you, it may not be your bar. Always check the juke before buying a drink in a strange bar. If you like the selections, then check the P-button, you can see what comes up usually without any quarters, or even if you have to put money in, it will come up as it's selected, so you can use that to help determine if it's worth investing in a drink. If the selections available are a window into what the bar wants to be the P-button is a window into what it actually is. Sometimes bars have great selections, but often the P-button is a fairly banal choice among them. This shouldn't be too discouraging because it is a common reality, but also bear in mind that it is generally the regulars who will come back to the same song.
Some bar patrons will return to the same song every time to set a mood that they want, or to engage their fellow drinkers in a sing-a-long. For example, many bars will invariably play Journey (usually "Don't Stop Believin') because it's cheesy, drunk idiot music that will usually get people to follow a sing-a-long. Also, its use in the final episode of "The Sopranos" makes it a jukebox favorite. Since most discriminating jukeboxes wont offer this as a selection, this trend is usually only suffered with Internet Jukeboxes. Ideally a most popular selection would be a statistical measurement of the bars musical leanings.
Sometimes the P-button is misleading though, many bars will unplug their jukeboxes at night to push out patrons after last call. Some selections will be repeated by the same trickster, or a bartender, which wont be as telling, but will still give you an idea of what kind of person would come here regularly or work. If a selection particularly baffles you, it's best to ask a bartender or someone who seems like a regular, this won't get you much information in my experience, but it's worth a shot, maybe it will lead to an experience that will enable you to form a more likely guess as to why the song was chosen.
When the most popular song plays, or any song that night for that matter, you should observe the clientèle, is one group dancing and singing? Maybe they are responsible. Are many people getting excited? Does someone crack a guilty smile? Simple observation is the easiest and perhaps most telling way of determining why this song is the most popular. If a lot of people seem to enjoy it and there isn't a specific amount of excitement from any particular person or group, then the song may actually hold statistical merit and be drawn from a fair sample of patrons.
Now is the fun part. Think about every aspect of the song: The meter, the instruments used, the cultural implications, the genre, the tonality, the length, the year it was released and think about it within the context of the selections available. Take what you can learn or know about the song and think about it within the space of the bar. How does it fit? Is it paradoxical? Does it serve a type of person? Does it serve the bar's image?
I hope some people post, or at least try this. Through appreciation and demand, we can save the CD jukebox and resist the soul-less internet based ones.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
P-Button 4/9
The Bar: "Drop Off Service" on Avenue A between 13th and 14th st.
The Scene: A mixed mingling of young professionals and hip swingsters. Bar is large and open, with dimly lit intimate pockets in the back. Bartenders are dress-casual, tall and handsome. Drink list is eclectic but discriminating. Clientèle is diverse and conversational, seems like a neighborhood spot, and the neighborhood is a unique one: not meaning the surrounding East Village, but the behemoth of a housing "community" known as Stuyvesant Town whose boulevard of a South entrance is four storefronts away.
The Space: The glass on the bar-front had "Drop Off Service written in faded white letters as if to resemble a New York laundromat, which I suspect it was under prior proprietors. The room was an open square, with the bar and the plush round booths. It reminded me of a club that acted of a recreation room in a resort town. The jukebox was practically on stage up against the back wall. The back wall acted as an entrance for the uninhabited, crimson glowing backrooms. These rooms would be perfect for making out in, but just a little too open for lines of coke. The neighborhood is defined by hip bars. The East Village has the highest concentration of bars of any neighborhood in the whole city. Stuyvesant Town is a relatively affordable, seemingly safe converted project in a trendy, pricey neighborhood. The bar's proximity to the "community" makes it a convenient spot for town regulars and a good meeting place for friends of townies.
The Juke: A small, but well amplified with good surround sound. The music is audible almost anywhere in the bar, but competing with many loud conversations and general bar noise. Unfortunately, the volume of the music isn't loud enough to put up much of a fight. The jukebox is a quaint one with the standard 100 albums, consisting mostly of alternative bent classics, from psychedelic era Beatles to The Violent Femmes to Le Tigre.
The Song: Gnarles Barkley "Crazy," may well have been 2007's biggest hit. Jumping from the college radio favorite to Grammy nominee, the song was a favorite for parties and dance clubs. The infectous electronic precision and soulful vocals created a combination that rockers, hip-hoppers and electronic music fans could all at least tolerate. The catch chorus of "I may be crazy" can invariably be seen being mouthed by one of the helpless dancers, even when dancing is inappropriate (yes, it is that hip shaking). The song's popularity and association with a party atmosphere make it a good choice for a room full of Sty townies. While it isn't cutting edge it was the most current option in the pool of rock and alternative classics. It is if jukeboxer players were attempting to conjure a DJ. When the song played many patrons started dancing and singing. My guess is that this is a fairly accurate sample of a bar that is hip enough to fit into the East Village, but patronized by people who come there for conveniences and a good watering hole rather than a scene, after all why not see a band or dance in the East Village?
The bar: The Phoenix on 13th st between Avenue A and 1st Street.
The Scene: A straight friendly gay-bar. Bartenders are male, casual to bordering on grungy. Clientèle is mostly gathered at the bar, I don't remember seeing any females tonight, but I haven been before, and many were there Saturday night. This bar is on a quiet block in a rowdy late-night neighborhood, there is another bar on the block, and several on the next in either direction, but being on 13th instead of 14th or an Avenue makes it relatively hidden. The nearest other gay bar "The Boy's Room" is much more intimidating by comparison, and contains the leather and ass-grabbing that make outsiders uncomfortable.
The Space: After opening the heavy wood door, and attempting to peak through the dungeon-like bars over the windows, The Phoenix reveals itself to be a friendly, yet rather ordinary dive bar with some perks such as a small T.V. in the corner and some private side-rooms that, can be good places to get away from the crowd.
The Juke: A big brassy 100 album classic, with advanced features that allow you to look at the most popular song without playing it. It is close enough to the bar that you could scoot your stool over and make a pick. The selection was surprisingly current and fresh and included a Pitchfork media compilation of 2007's best songs, as well as albums that have been release in the last 2 months (interestingly enough the new Gnarles Barkley). The jukebox has a wide range of hip indie and classic songs, and doens't bear any signs of beeing in a "gay-bar."
The Song: Gloria Jones' "Tainted Love" is a song that almost every rock fan can sing along to. From it's roots as a soul standard about heartbreak it was reborn as a 80's synth smash as covered by the otherwise hitless "Soft Cell." Oddly enough, the Soft Cell treatment is a gay club favorite, but doesn't appear on the generally un-stereotypical jukebox. Perhaps users were attempting to find the next best thing, as this song is buried inconspicuously on a compilation album, a rare spot for most popular songs. This song could be a cry for more selections in the vein of Soft-Cell, gay-standards, synth/dance pop ala "Frankie Goes to Hollywood," or George Michael. It could very well also be the mischief of one regular who feels a special attachment to the song.
The Bar: "Doc Holiday's" on the corner of Avenue A and 8th Street, right across from Tompkins Square Park.
The Scene: A cowboy themed bar that does it's best to capture a small-town honkey tonk but still feels like a New York City bar. The bar offers a tasty and low-cost house beer brewed locally by Sixpoint Brewing, generally doles out cans of PBR and shots of cheap whiskey for patrons trying to drink the experience of redneck USA. The bar has a few grizzled old man regulars, who seem to always be there (yes I go there more often than I'd proudly admit), and a selection of tourists and cross-towners who want to check it out. Because it is also a friendly and fun bar, even without the theme there are some regulars who appreciate another friendly dive in an increasingly hip neighborhood.
The Space: Doc's does look like a faded salon, from touches like planks for floors and out-of-state lisence plates hung up. There is little room to dance, but there generally are a couple dancers, fighting with the pool table, which is nearly always active. The music usually is louder than the conversation and the TV's are on mainly to entertain the regulars who tend to sit at the bar and try to chat up the sexy female bartenders. The feel is dank and somewhat seedy, a little too seedy to be anywhere but New York.
The Juke: Might be the most authentic part of the country feel. Packed with selections from country greats and southern rock rebels, this jukebox feels perfect for the image and the space, a classic 100 song selection box that seems to dominate the bar, plays even when songs aren't requested, but when they are there usually isn't a big wait.
The Song: Charlie Daniels' "Devil Went Down to Georgia," is hardly a country song. At best you could call it a southern rock song that has such mainstream appeal that it has become a soundtrack and classic rock radio staple. The high speed fiddling and nods to bluegrass standards, and devil-may-care, attitude seems cheesy because of it's popularity, but always gets people dancing. This song is most likely naturally selected by people who have never been to a true country dive and imagine this song would represent it well.
The Scene: A mixed mingling of young professionals and hip swingsters. Bar is large and open, with dimly lit intimate pockets in the back. Bartenders are dress-casual, tall and handsome. Drink list is eclectic but discriminating. Clientèle is diverse and conversational, seems like a neighborhood spot, and the neighborhood is a unique one: not meaning the surrounding East Village, but the behemoth of a housing "community" known as Stuyvesant Town whose boulevard of a South entrance is four storefronts away.
The Space: The glass on the bar-front had "Drop Off Service written in faded white letters as if to resemble a New York laundromat, which I suspect it was under prior proprietors. The room was an open square, with the bar and the plush round booths. It reminded me of a club that acted of a recreation room in a resort town. The jukebox was practically on stage up against the back wall. The back wall acted as an entrance for the uninhabited, crimson glowing backrooms. These rooms would be perfect for making out in, but just a little too open for lines of coke. The neighborhood is defined by hip bars. The East Village has the highest concentration of bars of any neighborhood in the whole city. Stuyvesant Town is a relatively affordable, seemingly safe converted project in a trendy, pricey neighborhood. The bar's proximity to the "community" makes it a convenient spot for town regulars and a good meeting place for friends of townies.
The Juke: A small, but well amplified with good surround sound. The music is audible almost anywhere in the bar, but competing with many loud conversations and general bar noise. Unfortunately, the volume of the music isn't loud enough to put up much of a fight. The jukebox is a quaint one with the standard 100 albums, consisting mostly of alternative bent classics, from psychedelic era Beatles to The Violent Femmes to Le Tigre.
The Song: Gnarles Barkley "Crazy," may well have been 2007's biggest hit. Jumping from the college radio favorite to Grammy nominee, the song was a favorite for parties and dance clubs. The infectous electronic precision and soulful vocals created a combination that rockers, hip-hoppers and electronic music fans could all at least tolerate. The catch chorus of "I may be crazy" can invariably be seen being mouthed by one of the helpless dancers, even when dancing is inappropriate (yes, it is that hip shaking). The song's popularity and association with a party atmosphere make it a good choice for a room full of Sty townies. While it isn't cutting edge it was the most current option in the pool of rock and alternative classics. It is if jukeboxer players were attempting to conjure a DJ. When the song played many patrons started dancing and singing. My guess is that this is a fairly accurate sample of a bar that is hip enough to fit into the East Village, but patronized by people who come there for conveniences and a good watering hole rather than a scene, after all why not see a band or dance in the East Village?
The bar: The Phoenix on 13th st between Avenue A and 1st Street.
The Scene: A straight friendly gay-bar. Bartenders are male, casual to bordering on grungy. Clientèle is mostly gathered at the bar, I don't remember seeing any females tonight, but I haven been before, and many were there Saturday night. This bar is on a quiet block in a rowdy late-night neighborhood, there is another bar on the block, and several on the next in either direction, but being on 13th instead of 14th or an Avenue makes it relatively hidden. The nearest other gay bar "The Boy's Room" is much more intimidating by comparison, and contains the leather and ass-grabbing that make outsiders uncomfortable.
The Space: After opening the heavy wood door, and attempting to peak through the dungeon-like bars over the windows, The Phoenix reveals itself to be a friendly, yet rather ordinary dive bar with some perks such as a small T.V. in the corner and some private side-rooms that, can be good places to get away from the crowd.
The Juke: A big brassy 100 album classic, with advanced features that allow you to look at the most popular song without playing it. It is close enough to the bar that you could scoot your stool over and make a pick. The selection was surprisingly current and fresh and included a Pitchfork media compilation of 2007's best songs, as well as albums that have been release in the last 2 months (interestingly enough the new Gnarles Barkley). The jukebox has a wide range of hip indie and classic songs, and doens't bear any signs of beeing in a "gay-bar."
The Song: Gloria Jones' "Tainted Love" is a song that almost every rock fan can sing along to. From it's roots as a soul standard about heartbreak it was reborn as a 80's synth smash as covered by the otherwise hitless "Soft Cell." Oddly enough, the Soft Cell treatment is a gay club favorite, but doesn't appear on the generally un-stereotypical jukebox. Perhaps users were attempting to find the next best thing, as this song is buried inconspicuously on a compilation album, a rare spot for most popular songs. This song could be a cry for more selections in the vein of Soft-Cell, gay-standards, synth/dance pop ala "Frankie Goes to Hollywood," or George Michael. It could very well also be the mischief of one regular who feels a special attachment to the song.
The Bar: "Doc Holiday's" on the corner of Avenue A and 8th Street, right across from Tompkins Square Park.
The Scene: A cowboy themed bar that does it's best to capture a small-town honkey tonk but still feels like a New York City bar. The bar offers a tasty and low-cost house beer brewed locally by Sixpoint Brewing, generally doles out cans of PBR and shots of cheap whiskey for patrons trying to drink the experience of redneck USA. The bar has a few grizzled old man regulars, who seem to always be there (yes I go there more often than I'd proudly admit), and a selection of tourists and cross-towners who want to check it out. Because it is also a friendly and fun bar, even without the theme there are some regulars who appreciate another friendly dive in an increasingly hip neighborhood.
The Space: Doc's does look like a faded salon, from touches like planks for floors and out-of-state lisence plates hung up. There is little room to dance, but there generally are a couple dancers, fighting with the pool table, which is nearly always active. The music usually is louder than the conversation and the TV's are on mainly to entertain the regulars who tend to sit at the bar and try to chat up the sexy female bartenders. The feel is dank and somewhat seedy, a little too seedy to be anywhere but New York.
The Juke: Might be the most authentic part of the country feel. Packed with selections from country greats and southern rock rebels, this jukebox feels perfect for the image and the space, a classic 100 song selection box that seems to dominate the bar, plays even when songs aren't requested, but when they are there usually isn't a big wait.
The Song: Charlie Daniels' "Devil Went Down to Georgia," is hardly a country song. At best you could call it a southern rock song that has such mainstream appeal that it has become a soundtrack and classic rock radio staple. The high speed fiddling and nods to bluegrass standards, and devil-may-care, attitude seems cheesy because of it's popularity, but always gets people dancing. This song is most likely naturally selected by people who have never been to a true country dive and imagine this song would represent it well.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Welcome to Juke-blog!
A collision of personal obsession and academic exercise this blog will contain analysis of New York's most popular selections on remaining CD based locale driven jukeboxes, lamentations and explorations of the rise of the internet jukebox, socio-historical curiosities of the jukebox and related topics (randomization of music, control over music within space) and progress and reflections as I attempt to create a revolutionary new digital music randomization interface.
I welcome any comments and will reward any posts with most-popular findings and/or good leads on well-used analog jukeboxes.
Trevor
I welcome any comments and will reward any posts with most-popular findings and/or good leads on well-used analog jukeboxes.
Trevor
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