Bar Review: Dionysus (Baltimore)

Dionysus, on Preston Street just off Charles in Baltimore, is hands-down my favorite Baltimore bar. Situated three blocks from my apartment, I stroll down there once a week or so to hang out and have a beer, sometimes have some dinner or a snack from their terrific and ever-changing menu, and to have some social time in a space that's full of lively people but is still laid back enough that it's easy to have conversation with the bartenders, other patrons, or whoever has joined me out for that evening.

In my neighborhood, Mt. Vernon, there are four main options for beer and food: the Mt. Vernon stable, which has the standard fare of ribs and deep-fryer food; City Cafe, which caters to the upscale dress-in-black crowd and charges a dollar more per drink than anyplace else in the neighborhood; Brewer's Art, which has good food and their own Belgian-style ales, and is, on Sundays, a veritable Bear den; and Dionysus. What sets Dionysus above all these establishments, including the more "upscale" Brewer's Art and City Cafe, is a great craft beer selection, both draft and bottle, and a cajun-influenced menu of substantial food like a cajun pork chop with greens and cheesy grits, all of which can be had for substantially less than what you'd pay at their competitors. A beer and an entree: twenty bucks. At Brewer's Art or City Cafe, you'd pay about ten dollars more for food and beverage of exactly the same quality, and you'd have to put up with a lot more noise, crowd, and attitude as well. And then there's the reverse happy hour at 10PM. (If you don't trust me on the food, the Baltimore Sun recently gave "Chef" one of the best reviews I've read for a downtown Baltimore restaurant in a while).

I've always had interesting and entertaining experiences at Dionysus. The music ranges from The Doors to the Pogues, and is loud enough where you can sing along if you feel so inclined and not embarrass yourself, but is still kept in that range where you can sit at the bar and have a conversation in normal tones. At that bar I've had conversations with the bartender Gina, who addresses her customers as "Love," and local "characters" like the very garralous technical director of a local theater company (who I couldn't tell if he was hitting on me or not). In summer, there's an interesting mix of hipsters/artists/street corner philosophers at the outdoor tables. The crowd is younger, and I suspect that some of them are students of Peabody and MICA who don't feel like making the trek to the Mt. Royal Tavern. I also like that it's a space that's well-lit enough that you can sit at the bar and read or write, but atmospheric enough that, after a couple beers, you might think you look more attractive in the mirror behind the bar than you really are.

For a while I was very into the dark, beer kellner space of Brewer's Art, but eventually I felt that, unless you went there with somebody, it's kind of boring because you can't read or write, and the crowd is not particularly social. Dionysus feels more like the neighborhood pub where they really care about food and drink, where you can go to contemplate, and where you can often find yourself in the midst of an unexpected but pleasant interaction with the other patrons. Go check it out for yourself; it's not posh, it's not particularly hip, but it satisfies everything I want from my local pub, and does it in a way that means I leave with more of a smile than I entered with.

Bar Review: The Bar on Church

Those of you who've been reading this blog for a while probably already know what my opinion of The Transfer was, but for those don't, I regarded it as very possibly one of the worst places to hear DJ music in the entire city. It was laid out poorly, with half the patrons huddled over a bar on one side, and the other half trying to find some flow between the pool table, bench seating, and standing tables on the other. The sound was horrible, and way too loud to boot, and there was no place to just hang out and have a drink and a conversation. I stopped going to events there because, if they were good and crowded, you spent the whole night with a drink in your hand, constantly moving around to find a resting place, and if the night didn't go off, it felt like the shitty little dive that it was.

The Bar on Church, Greg Bronstein's replacement for The Bar on Castro, is a one hundred percent improvement over The Transfer, with great red lighting (very reminiscent of BOC), comfy padded banquette seating (ditto), and a layout of the bar along the long back wall instead of off to one side. The space feels balanced, comfortable and chic.

However, in continuing with the traditions of the Bar on Castro, the music is wholely mediocre. The boyfriend and I stopped in last Friday around nine as we were headed down to Pulse at Paradise Lounge, and after hearing the TingTings' "Great DJ (Calvin Harris Mix)" we thought, oh yeah, this could be good, only to bear witness to the playing of two Prince tracks within the span of 10 minutes, an electro mix of a Coldplay track, and a remix of "Circus" by Brittney Spears.

For a typical Castro bar, this is the kind of thing I'd expect, and at least there was a little innovation in the tracks we heard, but adhering to the usual formulas of lowest-common denominator dance music, a la 92.7, is not going to work for a bar that's off the beaten path. In the Bar on Castro you could get away with this sort of thing (and worse) because people weren't coming there for the music, they were coming there because of the location. With The Bar on Church, though, it's a destination, a place you have to go to on purpose, and you need something to draw people in there that's not just a replication of what they can more conveniently obtain at (shudder) Qbar, Badlands, The Cafe, or even Jet. The Transfer, though it was a dumpy hole, at least held out the promise of presenting innovative club nights, from Frisco Disco to Bender, where you could hear good music and dance. If the Bar on Church is going to be anything more than an out-of-the-way version of a Castro experience, it needs to return to the kind of innovative programming that The Transfer was developing a reputation for.

Bar Review: The Attic

In these days of economic uncertainty and financial instability a shabby chic neighborhood bar is a solid alternative to other locales that charge you at the door and gouge you at the bar for the privilege of being part of their scene. This past Saturday the boyfriend and I were both feeling a tight pinch in the wallet area, and yet we still wanted something to do that made us feel part of the world without having to put up too much of a front. We set out after dinner and Scrabble to walk Kitty home through Noe Valley and wound up going down 24th Street to The Attic. It's not the most amazing bar in the world, but it is certainly a comforting hole in the wall.

Sitting in a back booth I said "you know, I'd hate to see what this place looks like in natural light." The interior is black walls and red lighting, with visual variety provided by years of silver marker graffiti and punk band stickers. The tables and chairs look like they were bought individually at garage sales, and I was loathe to examine the condition of the vinyl in our booth too closely. In one corner hangs a painting that appears to be a Venetian canal with the head of a Conquistador hovering over the horizon. Altogether the decor makes me think of a subterranean den of ill repute with a dash of art student whimsy.

I liked the music better the last time we were there - on this visit we we were, as now seems to be the fashion for bars and clubs across the San Francisco scene, transported back to the 70s, though this time it was more the realm of AC/DC than Sylvester, and I swear the DJ was Napolean Dynamite. I had a hard time figuring out if I was supposed to be enjoying this set of Monster Rock of the 70s un-ironically, or ironically, or un-ironically ironically, but after the second drink I gave up trying to decide and just sang along with the ones I knew as the mood struck me.

The absolute best thing about The Attic after walking past the douche bars of Noe Valley was not having to put up with drunk yuppies, who would have only made me feel even more destitute, in a bar so crowded I wouldn't even have been able to sit down, much less have a conversation. The Attic is definitely a mid-Mission hipster haunt of choice, and I saw a crowd composed of gay boys, unfortunate mustaches, girls in horn-rimmed glasses, and all the other sorts of people who, like us, were looking for a cheap sociability on a Saturday night. It wasn't the biggest scene, or the most cutting-edge, but I liked it well enough on a second trip to think it might become more of a destination in the future.

Bar Review: The Knockout and El Rio

Thanks to a bit of miscommunication this past Saturday the boyfriend and I, along with a couple other friends, wound up going to both The Knockout and El Rio waaaaay down on Mission Street. The occasion was another friend’s birthday, which was originally supposed to be at The Knockout, but an $8 cover for some benefit, along with a couple really loud bands, convinced them to move things to El Rio. Unfortunately, nobody sent us a text or called us before we wound up paying cover and witnessing a truly hideous fashion show.

The Knockout could most succinctly be described as a hipster dive bar, decorated with mug shots and a patina of grime. There is a long bar as you enter, and another bar-like area with a drinks shelf and a brass foot rail where you can stand and look into the adjoining room, which features a stage. Live shows are apparently one of the big attractions here, though we caught only the end of somebody doing some decent beat-boxing before we were treated to a “fashion show.” When Richard Hell and the Voidoids “Blank Generation” started up over the PA I really had to laugh – it’s hard to think of a single song that could be so self-congratulatory and so amazingly cliché at the same time. The fashion, for the women at least, consisted of variations of black-on-blue plaid, but one of my companions put it best: “all these outfits seem designed to make the women look terrific, and the guys look like assholes.” About that time we got a text that we should rendezvous with the rest of our pack up the street, just in time to save us from any more hipster silliness, but before I got to try out the signature root beer float cocktail.

El Rio had a pretty high hipster quotient as well, but was definitely higher up on the bar evolutionary ladder. It also has a stage area, but additionally boasts one of the nicest patios I’ve seen in San Francisco, and when a band did take the stage, you could still hang out in the bar and have a conversation. I liked the warm lighting and the overall vibe of the bar, but was disappointed that they didn’t seem to have any cocktail specials of the sort found at The Knockout.

Since El Rio is only a few blocks from Kitty’s place I think it may become a destination for when I’m down at that end of the Mission; any place where I can sit outside and have a drink and a smoke is a winner in my book.

Bar Review: The Telephone Booth, 25th and South Van Ness

After a long day of domestic chores on Saturday, including finally getting the rest of our dusty gear washed and put away, the boyfriend and I wanted an easy night out centered mostly around drinking. We got in touch with our friend Rick and met up at a cute, aptly named hipster bar called The Telephone Booth at 25th and South Van Ness.
We got there around 9.45 and the place had enough crowd to make it seem lively, but not so much of a crowd that we couldn’t get drinks. There was one bartender on duty, and he did a great job of keeping things moving, even when the guy next to me couldn’t count out four single dollar bills in less than ten minutes – the bartender rolled his eyes, looked at me with a twenty in my hand, set us up with libations, and still the guy next to me didn’t seem to get the hint that he needed to pay for his drink.

We were able to find a seat at one of the small tables, and though it was pretty loud, we could still keep a conversation going if we leaned in toward each other. The music was rather painfully post-collegiate hipster rock; I heard The Stooges, The Ramones, and then Madonna’s “Vogue,” which, if I had only recently discovered the first two bands as part of my collegiate experience, would have been cool. As it was I mostly ignored the music, since that wasn’t what I was really there for anyway.

The drinks were cheap, and seemed to get stronger as the evening progressed. Don’t be fooled by those little hotel room water glasses, there’s plenty of booze in those drinks for your buck. There were several drink specials that came in under $7, and even call drinks weren’t more than $5.

The crowd seemed to have an average age of about 27, with lots of shaggy hair, funky eyeglasses, and thrift store blazers, but they were friendly and generally pretty fun. There was a birthday party at the table next to ours and they offered us ice cream, but we declined since we couldn’t settle on a flavor that would go with Jamesons and PBR, or Stoli and tonic. There’s a pool table in back if you need something to occupy your time, but I saw more people leaning against it than knocking balls around. Keep in mind that the place is pretty small, so if you show up with a bunch of people you’ll probably mob the place, or at least have to wait a bit to find a comfortable seating situation.

The Telephone Booth seems like a nice little hipster dive bar that’s off the beaten path enough to keep it from being insufferably crowded or scenster, and if I was looking for a place in that neighborhood to drink with a buddy or two, it would be high on my list of places to check out.

Event Review: Sick at The Matador

Sometimes, after a long hard week, it's difficult to muster the energy and enthusiasm for a big night out. Sometimes you just want to find a dark, unpretentious bar where they'll pour you a strong drink, where you can hear some groovy music that sets your mind to wandering away from all that you've been dealing with, a space away from home where you can talk with your friends and unwind enough that when you leave, you feel refreshed and ready to take on something new. Thank God I found that space last Friday at The Matador on 6th Street during Sick, a minimal techno night that started up last November.

Last week was a rough one for yours truly, since I was not only dealing with the usual mental and physical exhaustion after two long and active weekends on the party circuit, but, in writing my review of Further Confusion 2008, I wound up sticking my hand down into a hole full of angry badgers. Links to that review wound up being posted on a Livejournal community, and all around on various boards and forums, so that by Friday I had the highest number of daily hits (351) that I've ever gotten on this site, and I found myself embroiled in defensive manuevers on several different boards at the same time; while some were supportive of what I had to say, there were those who also felt that the best response was to say what a terrible, stupid, vapid, nasty person I must be to have not had a good time at that event. Worse, I found that I had unintentionally offended a good friend of mine, resulting in a tense phone conversation on Thursday night. I wrote and wrote and wrote, trying to clarify and refine the things I had said in my earlier post in the hope of opening up a more constructive dialogue, but by Friday evening I felt like I was getting into an extended tennis match with several different machines shooting balls into my side of the court, and I quickly realized that I was just one person, while there hundreds of potential opponents. So, after dinner on Friday night I turned off the comments for my FC posts, cancelled the reply notification for the topics I was following on other boards, and decided that it was best to let those who agreed or disagreed with me battle it out on their own. After all that what I really wanted on Friday evening was to be out someplace where I didn't feel this nervous itch to log in and check my email. We already had plans to stop in and say hi to the folks at Lucky Pierre, but since The Matador was kinda on the way, I thought it might be nice to stop off and have a drink there; as it was, we wound up staying for three.

The Matador was known as The Arrow Bar in a former incarnation; I never went there, but I've heard stories about it being a dark, dirty, cavernous hole that was well-loved by the attendees of Frisco Disco when it was in that location. I'm pleased to say that the deep, dark hole aspect is still present, though the cave decor, if it was ever more than just a metaphor, is gone. The Matador seems to be one of those ancient San Francisco bars that has somehow just kept going through the decades; it's narrow but deep, with a bar running down most of its length to a small DJ/dance area in the back. The wooden and mirrored bar with the gold Deco accents put me in mind of a working man's saloon where you'd stop in for a belt on the way home, and the Spanish matador kitsch decor was just enough to bring some humor to the surroundings without being ovewhelming. The young Asian guy behind the bar poured us a couple stiff drinks, including a very reasonably priced ($7) Red Bull and Blueberry Stoli concoction, and eventually we wound up having a conversation about Freud.

I'm unsure how I first heard about Sick, though it's been going on since early November, another little mushroom popping up in the San Francisco techno garden. When we first arrived the music was on the knarzier side of the minimal spectrum, but the boyfriend and I both remarked on how wonderfully tight the mixes were. We had a drink and thought it would be cool to hang out for another, just to see where things went. The second DJ came on and, after a bit of a problem with getting the levels set, embarked on a nice journey into slightly more abstract but still groovy territory. The only track we recognized was Supermayer's "Two of Us," but that should give you some idea of the overall flavor of the set. We were thrilled that, not only were the drinks good and the music fine, but that the volume of music was low enough that we could have a real conversation while sitting at the bar. So, we ordered up a third round.

If we hadn't already been planning on going to Lucky Pierre I would have been quite content to hang out at The Matador all night, getting smashed and listening to techno. We arrived between 9.30 and 10.00, and left between 11.00 and 11.30, and during that whole time a few people came and went, but it was far from being crowded; it would be interesting to hang out later and see how that scene develops as the night goes on. Regardless of the crowd size, it's a great place to get a Friday evening techno fix (Sick happens every Friday between 9PM and 2AM, and there's no cover), whether you're out and about early and just want a pre-party drink, or you're looking for a nice atmopheric joint where you can settle in for the night.

San Francisco's Crappiest Bars

Gridskipper has put together a great Google mashup showing the crappiest bars in San Francisco - terrible service, douchebag crowds, overpriced drinks, that kind of crappy. I can proudly say that I've only ever set foot in one of these bars, The Beauty Bar, and that was on an early weekday afternoon because a friend of mine was doing a sign job for them and got us free drinks. Otherwise, total crapola. Note too that most of these are bars with "upscale" pretensions, futher evidence that, just because you've got Prada on your back doesn't mean you've got cool in your pocket.

Bar Review: The Pilsner Inn

I have many fond memories of the Pilsner Inn at Church and Market - it was the first Castro bar I came to when I moved here in 1999, and it was the first Castro bar in which someone picked me up (leading to my first hung-over stagger home after waking up in my trick's apartment at 6AM). That night I met Warren, who continues to pour drinks there, and it's the bar I took my Mom to when she came to visit in 2003 and I wanted a place she could hang out and meet my friends.

All these things might give you some picture of the Pilsner as both a typical gay bar, scene of typical gay bar activities, and something akin to Cheers, where you can go and have a pleasant drink with your Mom. In fact, it seems that in the eight years I've been going there, the Pilsner has gone through a number of shifts, starting out as a bit of a hipster bar, then evolving into the waiting room for Chow, and now I notice large influx of lesbian clientele, mostly of the lipstick variety. I think this is largely reflective of the changing demographics of this neighborhood, where the Mission, Castro, and Duboce Triangle meet. Today the Pilsner seems to have more the contours of a neighborhood sports bar, and I don't fancy what my luck would be now if I sat at the bar and had a few drinks to myself (but maybe that's because I'm not quite the cute, young, fresh meat I was eight years ago).

Of course, the absolute best feature of the Pilsner, and the reason I've made it my standard watering hole, is the back patio area. This too has undergone significant improvement over the years and now, in warm weather and cold, it provides a comfortable garden spot to have a leisurely evening's tipple. This is where the younger crowd tends to hang out, and on more than one occasion the boyfriend and I have had pleasant conversation with strangers or someone we know.

The Pilsner doesn't have the mad action of a Castro bar, nor it is as overrun with boys and their hags as say, The Cafe or The Bar. You might meet someone here, chat them up, and then find yourself in a stranger's bed, but it's more likely that you'll come here with a group of friends to have a drink on your way elsewhere, or that you'll be in the neighborhood and decide to pop in for a beer and a smoke after work. Rather than a place to go and get your groove on, or troll for pick-up action, the Pilsner is that rare kind of bar that's simpley a place to go and relax.

Event Review: FilterSF at Fat City

The boyfriend and I made it out to FilterSF at Fat City on Saturday, and while we both enjoyed the tracks we heard from residents Solekandi and Saya, our personal energy levels, and that of the party, were too low to keep us there much beyond the 1AM mark; I think this is one of those events where it's best to show up, and stay, later.

We arrived at Fat City, the former Studio Z, around 10PM, and, in our typical fashion, were the first guests at the party. Fat City is a pretty minimal club space, really nothing more than a warehouse with a bar and a disco ball, though the sound system was easily one of the best we have heard in the city. The space seems to be set up mainly for live performances, with a large stage at the front of the room and a live mixing board in back. Our mutual impression was that this is a difficult space for a DJ, since it puts you right up front for everyone to watch, rather than letting you be more “behind-the-scenes” to create a vibe, and being a big space, it’s difficult to raise the energy level when it’s populated by a small number of people. The minimal lighting makes for a boring visual environment and, again, with nothing else to draw the attention of attendees, the only thing to look at is the DJ and the assortment of gear that’s been put up on the stage - the whole time people were dancing, they were also staring straight forward at the stage. Drinks were reasonably priced for SoMA, with well drinks at $6 and a Stoli and tonic running $7.

Solekandi was on when we first arrived but soon traded out with Saya. Their tracks were in the vein that I go for myself, deep, minimal, and almost trance-like, and both the boyfriend and I could say that we heard a lot of stuff that we didn’t know that we really liked. The flow between tracks was a little disconnected at times, but since they were largely playing to an empty room for the first hour I think this was just a matter of trying out some different grooves; at the end of Saya’s set she was playing some pretty big tracks that I thought would have worked better with a correspondingly big dancefloor later in the evening, but that was my only substantial criticism. Solekandi came on again at midnight to a small crowd of 75-100 people; her mixes and track selection were much tighter, and I could see that she was really getting down with her tracks, but even then it seemed difficult to shift the people on the dancefloor from head-bobbing and the zombie shuffle into full-on dancing.

The whole time we were at the club we kept smelling grilled onions, and between 12.30 and 1.00 our hunger for greasy street food got the better of us. We found the source of this mouth-watering aroma at a hot-dog cart on the corner of 11th and Folsom, and then decided to wander down to the Cat Club to see what was up with The Grind; however, the $15 cover along with the HI-NRG disco anthems we could hear when the door opened made us think that it probably wouldn’t be worth it. We considered going back up to FilterSF, since we had the requisite wrist stamps, but with a picnic in Golden Gate Park planned for the next day, and still-depleted energy reserves from Pride weekend, we opted instead to get some much-needed sleep.

I liked what I heard at FilterSF, and I think this crew is bringing a different sound to the San Francisco techno scene, a sound that I generally appreciate. This was a pretty tough night for them, being up against two Burning Man fundraisers, as well as being the weekend before a major holiday, when many people have left the city. It’s also a difficult space to warm up, and I expect that when that dark, empty cavern has about a hundred more people in it, the energy is significantly different. I don't think this was the best weekend for really getting the measure of this event, so I’ll be making plans to attend another FilterSF party soon, though next time I’ll probably plan on coming, and staying, much later.

Event Review: The Workout at House of Shields

The Workout has definitely stepped up in the world in its new location at House of Shields, and though this reporter had to make it short night, I'll definitely be adding to it my regular calendar of events.

The boyfriend and I met at House of Shields around 10PM, he having gone off to see the latest Stephen King flick, 1408, while I stayed at home and twiddled some knobs. When I got there around ten there was a smallish crowd that seemed more like overflow from The Palace Hotel across the street, but there were definitely a few kids there for the evening's festitivities, and as the hour approached midnight their numbers increased substantially. The House of Shields is an old-school, dark wood panelled bar that looks like it's been there for at least a hundred years. There is an upstairs mezzanine area where the DJ gear was set up, and I expect this probably serves as a small dance floor when it gets really rockin' (I think it may have been a sort of orchestra loft back in the day). In keeping with the old-school motif drinks were generous and reasonably priced, $5 each for a well cocktail and a draft import beer. It was a really fun space to hear electronic music, if only for the contrast between the old world and the new, both joined together by the spirit of people wanting to go out and have a good time.

Johnatron was on the decks when I first arrived but passed off to Pozibelle shortly thereafter. The sound was a tremendous improvement over Le Suckplex, though I pitied Pozibelle and her lack of a monitor. Nonetheless she soldiered on and laid out some fun tracks of an electro techno dance variety to warm up the evening, including one of Lord Kook's favorites from his Drunk and Horny days, "Greetings from Flashbackville" by Gods of Blitz. Around 11.30 she started into more hip-hop territory, I expect to set the stage a bit for Ghosts on Tape, but both the boyfriend and I needed to call it an early night, so we didn't get to see just how crazy things got.

This has the makings of a really cute little scene (with some cute boys, too) for a Thursday evening, and I'd strongly encourage you all to go check it out. The Workout kids definitely have an ear for what's new, cool, and interesting, and I look forward to seeing what they bring to our little scene.

Event Review: Workout at Le Duplex

It's always a good sign when you start off your evening thinking "Oh, hey, I'll go have a drink and check this out, and then get myself home for a decent bedtime since I have to work tomorrow" and then find yourself walking home very toasty after having closed out the party. Such was my experience of Workout at Le Duplex, hosted by the kids behind Luxxury, Johnatron and Baron von Luxxury, where the boyfriend and I kept thinking, hey, this is cool, let's have another drink and see what happens.

What happened was a fun set of dirty electro disco from the Baron hisself, some strange 80s mixes from Pozibelle (including one of ABCs "How to be a Millionaire" that inspired my first ever DJ anxiety dream, flipping through my records looking for this track as the previous DJ's record spun down to its final groove, the crowd all waiting for me to lay down the next one), and an awesome awesome set of knarzy electrotechno grooves from Brooklyn's Devin Dirt (including his great remix of Luxxury's "Rock and Roll is Evil"). Devin is at it again tonight at Lights Down Low, and the Luxxury boys will be playing a live set, so go go go check it out, I cannot possibly think of a better way to spend your Friday night. Workout is a monthly on the fourth Thursday, and though turnout was low last night (maybe twenty people on the dancefloor at the height of the night) owing, I think, to the holiday AND Michael Mayer at Mezzanine, this feels to me like the kind of scene where you're going to get to see people that you'll be hearing a lot about later. And did I mention that there are cupcakes?

As for Le Duplex, it was Le Suck. I remember when this space used to be a gay leather bar called The Loading Dock (I even spent some time suspended from the ceiling during one memorable evening), and aside from tarting the place up with a red and white color scheme, some cheap-ass lights for the dance area, and a stripper pole, not much has been done to improve the space. The sound system was truly terrible for this kind of music, two EAW speakers that handle only highs and mids up on the ceiling and a subwoofer that was CUT OFF. Really, no bass at all. Plus, $6 for well drinks and $7 for Stoli and tonic is outrageous. We had a drink earlier in the evening at Wish, the home of handbag house (and a crowd that creeps me out), and it was a buck cheaper than Le Duplex, which is much, much lower on the club evolutionary scale. And then, they flipped the lights up at 1.15, after Barbeau had been DJing for what seemed like twenty minutes. Indifferent and surly staff, expensive drinks, lousy sound, and they don't even have the decency to let the party run its course. Here's hoping Le Duplex gets rid of its lousy attitude and upscale pretensions ($170 dollar bottle service on other nights to sit in cheezy upholstered booths) and realizes that it's really just a hole-in-the-wall club in a desolate part of the Mission.

Bar Review: The Transfer

The Transfer, as befits a bar at the crossroads of a MUNI bus and underground line, suffers from something of an identity crisis. Originally the last stop for the hungry ghosts that prowled the Castro at all hours of the day and night, a place so dismal that the one time I entered to use the ATM I felt like I had been sucked down into a Virgilian Hades, the bar was bought about two and a half years ago by Castro entertainment and hospitality mogul Greg Bronstein. He spruced it up, cleaned out the cobwebs, put a cheeky graffiti mural on the back wall, and installed real windows that let in the sunshine and chased the vampires away. The manager at the time, Shawn, had a great relationship with a number of local promoters, and thus Bus Station John established a base in the Castro with his Double Dutch Disco parties, Cock Block appeared for the girls, and there was a steady stream of party nights that transformed The Transfer into a new bar full of hip young things. Then, several months ago, Bronstein sold the bar, fired Shawn, and the whole identity of the bar was brought into question. Ask a gay guy about it and he might say “Oh, isn’t that a straight bar now,” while a straight guy would probably say “Oh, isn’t that a gay bar?” Bus Station John still does Double Dutch Disco parties there every first Sunday, but the bar also hosts bar nights for Mission hipsters riding fixies, and it looks like Cock Block is moving on to Fat City. As for the other parties, they’ve come and gone so quickly that they never had a chance establish themselves or even pull up the bar’s reputation with their own. So what kind of bar is it? Depends on the day of the week and month, it seems.

The bar itself rally has little to distinguish it – there’s a bar, and a pool table, some bench seating built around the pool table like you’d find in any gay bar, some tables and tall chairs for perching, and filthy, filthy bathrooms. A lot of money and effort has gone into the DJ setup and on my last visit, during Refuge by the Staple crew (which is also moving on to other venues), there was a nice set of Mackie speakers for sound. But I don’t understand how this bar turns into a dance space, or if it really even does. Without moving the pool table the dance space is smaller than UndergroundSF, and there’s not much in the way of seating beyond the bar itself on the other side of the room. Move the pool table and the space opens up, but all the real action here seems to be at the bar. So, is it a bar or a dance club? It’s definitely the former, and wants to be the latter, but I haven’t seen it take off yet.

This bar is three blocks from my apartment and yet I’ve rarely set foot inside because I have no idea what’s going on with it. If I want an easy drink there’s the Pilser at equal distance, with a back patio that’s much nicer than sitting inside when the weather’s good. If I want to go dancing there are plenty of other options, though they might be further away. So what does The Transfer have to offer that other bars don’t? I dunno, if you all have an answer, let me know.

Bar Review: Truck

Truck is at the corner of Folsom and 15th, right around the corner from the boyfriend’s pad, in the space that was formerly occupied by Wilde Oscars. This is one of the longest-enduring bars in San Francisco, complete with the original wooden and mirrored bar. It feels like a comfortable neighborhood joint where you can sit and hang out with your friends, have some grub, shoot some pool, and generally relax in a kitschy but not overwhelming environment.

The truck theme is carried through with almost relentless detail, from the mudflap banners above the doorway to the side-mirrors in the bathroom to the hub cabs on the ceiling fans. Keeping with the basic pubness of the space, Truck also serves haute truck stop cuisine like hamburgers and chicken strips. As someone who spent his youth in an area where going to the truck stop for Sunday after-church dinner was a big deal, I had a hard time sorting the kitsch of Truck from the kitsch of an actual truck stop. With all of the over-the-top butchness of this space I feared that it would simply be The Lone Star with food, but the crowd on a Wednesday night at 9.30 was pretty diverse and “neighborhoody.” They’ve kept the interior layout of Wilde Oscar’s in place, with high tables against one wall and a second back room with a pool table. The lighting is all brothel (or tail-light) red, and the music was decent with indie-rock leanings (there may have been a jukebox, but I was a bit distracted at the time to notice). There was a nice selection of beers on tap, and a pitcher of pilsner ran about $15.

The location is a bit out-of-the-way from the usual bar crawls, but I think it is a place I will return to for both the food (I always complain that more bars should serve some kind of eats), and for a relaxed drink. I’ll also be curious to see what kind of “gay bar” it actually turns into, since it’s a bit too “themed” for the typical Castro boy, and maybe not “themed” enough for the SoMa crowd. Perhaps it will just be a space in the middle for anybody who wants to shoot some pool and drink a pitcher with friends, and maybe get a little flirt on under the red lights.

Club Review: 1015 Folsom

For those in the club scene there’s a saying: friends don’t let friends go to 1015. Expensive drinks, surly security, and a general thuggish atmosphere have all dragged down what is certainly one of the best-appointed clubs in all of San Francisco.

Back before the club crackdown of 2000 1015 was San Francisco’s major dance venue, but a series of events led to a threat by the police to close the place down. In response the club management installed security cameras and instituted one of the most oppressive security regimes ever – I’ve never been patted down like I was patted down there, complete with thumbs around the inside of my waistband. Going to 1015 was like entering a Federal building, and as a result most of the underground club kids began to shun it. Those who did show up were largely the bridge-and-tunnel crowd, and members of Asian gangs who used it as their own personal clubhouse.

Around 2004 the club hired Lorin Ashton (Bassnectar) as General Manager. Before he broke into breaks Lorin had been a psytrance DJ, and under his management the club began to book in acts like Infected Mushroom. This brought some of the underground kids back into the club, and on that particular night the security consisted of the door guy essentially waving his hands over me. Then, in Feburary of 2005, during a performance by Paul Van Dyk, one of those Asian mobsters decided to settle a score and gunned down his victim in the downstairs dance floor. For that night there had been special VIP entrance that allowed you to go straight in without a pat-down, which meant if you wanted to carry a weapon, all you had to do was pay a little more.

Following that incident the security cracked down again, and though 1015 continues to be one of the few places that can book in the big names, there aren’t many dedicated clubbers who are willing to deal with the club’s overall bad vibes to see them. Fridays seem to be the best nights, with various monthly parties, but all Saturday night parties as of this writing are "strict dress code enforced," which is exactly what I'm into. If you want a night of security goons, overpriced drinks, girls in cocktail dresses, guys in button-up shirts wearing too much cologne, and thugs, then 1015 is the place for you. Otherwise, wait until the same big-name DJ comes to Ruby Skye.

Bar Review: Trax in the Haight

After manuevering through the obstacle course of panhandlers, gutter punks, and 'burban shoppers that crowd the narrow sidewalks of the Haight, sometimes a man just needs a dark haven and a drink. Thankfully, Trax, on Haight up from Masonic (going toward Buena Vista Park), can provide.

Trax is the only gay bar in the Haight, though it's hard to say what, exactly, makes it gay. Back in the day it was host to Jeff and Gary's Love Haight Lounge, but now the DJ decks are gone and I have yet to hear of any special events there. Inside it's a typical divey bar, with a pool table and sports or some innocuous sitcom with gay appeal on the tube. Thursdays they used to show Will and Grace and serve $2.75 Cosmos, and while Will and Grace have passed into DVD-land, the Cosmos remain. Best place I know to get two people smashed on less than $20, if that's what you're after. Occasionally they will also play some decent music videos.

If you're looking for a bar where you can duck in and have a drink, Trax delivers admirably. But it may be a pretty lonely drink, judging from a recent Thursday night excursion. In the end Trax is much more of a waypoint than a destination, so go have your cheap drinks and then move to some place more fun.

Bar Review: Love It Wednesdays at Icon Ultra Lounge

At the last minute on Wednesday afternoon the Kontrol kids sent out an announcement on their mailing list (and why haven't you signed up yet) that they were going to be appearing at Love it Wednesdays at the Icon Ultra Lounge (formerly known as the Luna Lounge) on Folsom and 8th. Since the boyfriend was at Mezzanine singing along to "Trapped in the Closet," and I was besotted in the company of bloggers and feeling frisky, we decided that this was a good space to meet in-between, as it were.

I used to frequent the Luna Lounge some years ago when they hosted the Taco Portal psytrance parties on Thursday nights. It was a pretty non-descript bar with too-expensive drinks ($6 each for well) that had the one redeeming quality of selling deep-fried Mexican bar food (hence, Taco Portal). That regular night ended about two years ago, and after that the Luna Lounge passed into deserved obscurity. Now, as the Icon Ultra Lounge it has a lot more flair, but they need to pull their act together if they're going to keep this thing going.

The flyer said 9PM - 11PM, and since it was a school night, I was inclined to be there early. I show up at 9.30 and while the door was open, there was no music and it looked like set-up was still in progress. I took a walk to check out the SoMa street theater, and when I came back ten minutes later sound check was still underway, and the bartenders were still counting out their cash drawers. At 9.45 I finally was able to get a drink, and the tunes started up. Now, I know from experience that, especially on a Saturday night, 9 can mean 9.30. But on a Wednesday, when people are inclined to go out early and leave early, if you put 9.00 on your flyer, you better start at 9PM.

Also on the email flyer was a promise of Kontrol DJ Sammy D. djing a "darker side of light rock" set as Lark After Dark in the back room. During the Taco Portal days this room was closed, and I only saw it once during a big party. I was rather looking forward to this, since I was curious what Sammy's spin would be. However, when the boyfriend and I left at 11.15, this room still wasn't going. On the print flyer it says "KOIT's Storm presents Light Rock Inferno," but nothing was burning as far as I could tell. Again, if you put it on the flyer, you better be making it happen.

The boyfriend and I didn't really spend any time in the main room because we discovered a third room that I had never seen before, a kind of VIP lounge space in the shape of a narrow U in the very back of the bar. There was the standard leatherette banquette seating with a table in the center of the U, but the walls were covered with very narrow mirrored stripes. Seven clear lightbulbs with orange filaments hung from the ceiling, and their reflection in the mirrors created the effect of being in the middle of a shower of sparks, or, if you kinda squinted (or, in my case, took off your glasses), it was like looking out into a cityscape at night. A truly awesome optical effect achieved very simply. Too bad the room was empty, though we did find it a good place for a quick toke.

When we did make it out into the main room, just before we left, we found that it had been considerably reconstructed since the Taco Portal days. The DJ pulpit now towered up in the middle of the dancefloor, and the illumination was provided by red, circular lighting fixtures. Very ultra lounge. A small number of people had showed up by this point, but the party energy had yet to manifest and I was ready for the bed.

This space has a lot of potential, and from the upcoming line-ups on the print flyer it looks like this might be a great night during the week to check out some new tech house sounds. But if you're going to do a middle of the week party you can't be slack in how you set things up and make them run, because us working stiffs aren't going to be patient to wait for things to get up to steam. I'll definitely check it out again.

Bar Review: Jet on Market

Jet is in the space once occupied by The Detour, a fading leather bar that had definitely seen better days. The interior has undergone a total rehab, and is super-slick: black patent leather wall, ergonomic foam-formed bench seating on the back wall, cabaret-style seating in the front with a stage (where I've been told you can sometimes find go-go dancers), and plenty of mirrored surfaces. The most amazing bit of interior design is the stainless-steel wall of lightbulbs that goes up behind the bar and onto the ceiling. This creates a really interesting optical illusion in which the back wall seems to tower about sixteen feet high, when in fact it's a fairly low ceiling. It makes the space seem much bigger, and overall the vibe is very lounge-sophisticated.

I'd heard that Greg Bronstein, the owner of Jet, had plans to make it a "hip-hop lounge," and that was certainly what we heard coming through the system when we came into the bar. I'm not a big fan of hip-hop, but I'm especially not into the R&B style of hip-hop with its overly-emotive vocal stylings. In a bar this can be especially difficult to deal with since the vocals compete with the ability to have a conversation, and when you get into the more aggressive beats, or songs with layer upon layer of vocal tracks, it just becomes too much. Though we took advantage of the two-for-one drink specials, I was more than ready to leave after my first drink.

For a Friday night after 9PM there weren't many people in the bar, maybe a dozen older guys, a couple younger guys with their hags, and a small group of lesbians out and about. All seemed to be stopping in on their way someplace else, and I didn't see many signs that they were settling into the space for a long night of drinking and carousing. When we went to The Bar on Castro afterwards, in contrast, the place was packed with lots of guys and girls who were obviously there to have their good time for the night.

In sum, Jet is a fabulous space in need of a different musical vibe. I don't know why Bronstein decided that the Castro needed a hip-hop lounge; perhaps there is an attempt here to pull in a greater degree of diversity than the typical Castro bar, but I didn't see any sea of homongenous faces at The Bar that spoke to me of a need for diversification. The hip-hop orientation could work with a more acute track selection, since later in our visit there were some deeper tracks that came on and gave the space a warm vibe, but from the small number of people we saw there on a Friday night at prime drinking time, the Jet concept as it stands now doesn't seem to be catching on. The boyfriend and I agreed that we would come back and check it out again on another night, but it needs something more compelling and interesting to keep me there past the first drink.