Bars & Clubs

We've got a passion for anything old school. Vinyl's way better than MP3, Grandmaster Flash will always trump Jay-Z, and the original Nintendo is far more fun than the Xbox 360. And when it comes to the game of darts, we prefer old-fashioned boards made from sisal fibers to them new-fangled electronic Galaxy machines. Call us crazy, but we prefer it when our darts actually stay sunken into the target after we throw them, instead of falling to the ground (which usually happens with plastic-tipped darts and worn-out machines). It's just one of the reasons why we've dug aiming our steel-tipped darts at bull's-eyes available at Clicks. While most Valley bars and clubs feature an array of the aforementioned electronic dart units, this east Phoenix pool hall follows the less-is-more philosophy, with three bristle boards available. Another plus is the place's pub-like atmosphere, which is somewhat fitting, as the sport originated in Britain. There's also a gigantic big-screen sitting close by, just in case you wanna catch a D-Backs or Suns game while beating your buddies at a game of "cricket" or "round the clock." Don't get too distracted, however, as the owners would prefer it if you didn't miss and accidentally put someone's eye out.

Video games are an absolute religion for some people. Magazines like GamePro and Electronic Gaming Monthly, their bibles; digital heroes like Master Chief and Mario, their gods. And arcades like King Ben's Castle at Golfland SunSplash are virtual temples, where vidiots genuflect (so as to better insert tokens, natch) and become joystick Jesuits among the 200 different games available here. Even though home systems like the Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3 dominate the gaming world, the arcade is still packed with teens and 20-somethings eager to show their stuff on such old-school units as Centipede or Street Fighter II, as well as rack up high scores on newer games like Wangan Midnight Maximum Tune and Aliens: Extermination. This palace of play also boasts numerous racing simulators, fighting titles, and beat-matching dance pad games (such as Dance Dance Revolution and its ilk). Plus, the snack bar offers pizza and other snacks for between-game cravings — but make sure to wipe your hands before heading back to the action.

You won't find any death-defying rides, outrageous animals, or complicated midway games at a monthly Sadisco* affair. Just freaks . . . and plenty of them (like, enough to fill an insane asylum or a sideshow). Be they leather-clad rivetheads, mayhem-craving punks, or gloomy Goth types, the monthly dance parties put on by the debaucherous dance collective draws out nightcrawlers of every stripe interested in some countercultural fun. Each edition of Sadisco* (shorthand for "Sadistic Disco") goes down at one of several rotating Valley clubs and features a fantastically freaky theme, with décor, costumed revelers, and activities to match. J-Heads hosted a raucous edition of "Fight Club Sadisco" (where patrons engaged in fisticuffs, à la the Chuck Palahniuk novel); the now-defunct Shayna's in Scottsdale was once the site of "Sadisco in the Land of Mistreated Sex Toys" with dildo and blow-up doll decorations; and Homme Lounge gave up space for "Sadisco* Goes to Leary's * Town: The S*uicide Cool-A©id Test!" All of the bizarrely bacchanal action is backed by a hardcore soundtrack of industrial and EBM music courtesy of resident DJs Squalor, ///she///, 5arah, Blonde NOize, and $&M, as well as various bands. If you dare to sample the strangeness, bring some earplugs in addition to your pleather pants.

The musicians, singers, and comedians that hit the stage at Celebrity Theatre not only get to perform in the round but get to experience the rotating stage, which may be as unique an experience for them as it is for us. How do we know? Well, Celebrity stage newbies tend to remark on their rotation virginity, while returning artists often express their fondness for the ride. The circular motion is slow enough not to be jarring for performers and playfully pumps up the intimacy that Celebrity is known for. If all the world's a stage, it's nice to see a stage that mimics the world right back.

Mill Avenue may be known as Tempe's main drag, but you'll find us off the beaten path, most weekends: There's a sleeping sonic giant just steps away from Mill known as Mitchell Park, an old-timey 'hood built between the '30s and '60s. Some of our town's best musical talent, such as Foot Ox, Bri White, James Fella, and the members of My Feral Kin, reside in the area loosely bounded by University Drive to the north, 13th Street to the south, Roosevelt Street to the east, and Hardy Drive to the west.

When the neighborhood's guitar-wielding and drum-whacking residents aren't playing at more traditional Tempe spots like Cartel Coffee Lab and Three Roots, some will open up their living rooms for open-to-the-public shows at places called The Manor and Bike Saviours Co-op. Thing is, these gigs aren't very well promoted, so be sure to troll MySpace for e-announcements or Eastside Records for paper fliers.

Old-school ravers around here love reminiscing about the good ol' days of the Valley's underground dance party scene. Back in the early- to mid-'90s, they ramble, Phoenix was rife with non-stop illegal and illicit all-night dance affairs, boasting big-time DJs, massive cuddle puddles, abundant X, and tons of "P.L.U.R." (as in, "peace, love, unity, and respect"). After waxing poetic, they usually start dissing on the rave scene, claiming it ain't as vibrant as those days of glory.

Sorry to be a buzzkill, bro, but the local scene is thriving quite well, as evidenced by the large number of raves being pimped on the Web site AzEDM (short for Arizona electronic dance music). Promoters and DJ collectives like ClixBagofTrix, Silent Unspoken, and Nightowl Entertainment have fliers posted for more than a dozen upcoming raves and parties spread out across P-town, whether it's some shindig in a vacant warehouse in south Phoenix or out in the desert somewhere. Locations are typically kept secret until the night of the affair (so as to keep the cops at bay), but bring some bail money as well as your glowsticks, in case things are compromised.

DJ William Fucking Reed has a knack for bringing sexy back while simultaneously bringing breaking national acts to the party. His weekly dance night, Shake!, has been going strong since 2005, thanks largely to the litany of luminaries Reed finds to spin tunes. Guest DJs have included JD Samson of Le Tigre, Marky Ramone, Glen Matlock of the Sex Pistols, Jimmy of Louis XIV, Sami Yaffa of New York Dolls, and Brace Paine of The Gossip. He's also managed to get celebs like Dave Navarro and Tommy Lee to come in for VIP treatment, and arranged for Shake! to be the official after-party for touring acts like The Kills and Editors.

In addition to Reed's own mash-up of electro/hyphy/punk, fellow resident DJs Funkfinger and Ashley Nicole provide plenty of bumping beats for booty shaking. With such high-profile guests and a music menu that includes the hottest new indie-dance rock, Shake! should continue to cause a stir for some time to come.

Sail away to the calming sounds of Steely Dan, Michael McDonald, and more whenever your captain of smooth, DJ mig50, plays yacht-rock classics at the Ruby Room. The event emcee spins those heavy-on-the-cheese hits by Boz Scaggs, Hall & Oates, and the Doobie Brothers on good ol' fashioned vinyl. You may not actually be coasting on a boat in the water, but with $2.50 Sea Breeze cocktails all night long, you can definitely feel a little sway if you like. Just don't rock the quasi-boat.

In the climax of the '80s flick Urban Cowboy, a duded-up John Travolta managed to hang onto a bucking mechanical bull for almost 30 seconds. Man, if only we coulda lasted that long. We were attempting to replicate the actor's feat on the faux toro at one of the Valley's two Saddle Ranch Chop Houses recently but came up a little short. Like, about 27 seconds short. Although both our pride and our rear ends were bruised, it was still major fun. Thankfully, we weren't the only ones getting bucked off the raging mechanical bull within moments (average ride time = six seconds) that night.

The ride's a popular attraction at both locations of the cowboy-themed restaurant and nightclub. Dozens of patrons line up around the ride's padded corral nightly to give it a go at $3 a pop, holding on with one hand as the ride's operator bucks them around for dear life. If they've got skills to survive, a weekly bull-riding competition on Monday nights offers a cash prize. But if they're washouts like us, souvenir pictures of the experience are available for only $8.99. It'll serve as a reminder of the ride, long after the bruises have faded.

Bar Smith is an early adopter of great DJs, great dance floors, and an overall big-city vibe we love to see hitting our bit of Sand Land. The upstairs outdoor dance floor is our fave in this town. Sure, it might be toasty in the summer, but it's worth it for the view — high-rises lookin' you eye to eye, as cool graphics and film loops projected onto nearby structures take advantage of our building boom.

We're partial to the small dance floor, where dancers are squared off with the DJ. It's the way it should be — the relationship between DJ and dancer, facing forward, and following the heady rhythms en masse. Who needs dance floors filled with fish, or other weird distractions or eye candy confections? It's a dance floor, and we're here to dance. Last night a DJ saved your life? At Bar Smith, on the roof, it's possible.

The day that the eggheads finally invent a time machine can't get here soon enough, because we've got some major plans for that wondrous doohickey. Besides heading back to eighth grade to confront the bully whose daily thrashings stunted our self-confidence to this day, we're warping back to the 1920s to witness a bona fide vaudeville show. We've seen only pictures of the ribald and raucous variety shows that were a mix of comedy, music, dancing, and oddly freakish behavior, so we'd love the experience of seeing performers like Stan Laurel or Ethel Barrymore in their prime.

And until the day we've got our own personal flux capacitors, our butts will be firmly planted in front of the stage at The Sets whenever the hilarious and hot Lucy Morals presents Romantasy Cabaret.

Every month during the summertime, Morals serves as barker and emcee for the vaudeville-like showcase, which features shenanigans of a sexy, surreal, and side-splitting nature. One eclectic edition (titled "Opulent Dreams") boasted the snake dancing of Mother Fakir, the hilarious acoustic parody songs of Tom Tuerff, the boffo burlesque of Dolly Diamonds, and other outrageousness.

The always-madcap Stephen Strange was also in attendance, wowing the crowd by setting off fireworks strapped to his stomach.

There are a few reasons why we visit Bullock's for its karaoke. Besides offering more than 10,000 songs for us to sing along with — either on key or off — the Phoenix bar also attracts a diverse clientele that comes for karaoke action seven nights a week. It's a wide cross-section of humanity that's just as entertaining as any reality show you've seen, regardless of singing talent (or lack thereof). There are lonely barflies who croon out forlorn love songs, tattooed skinny guys bellowing nu-metal anthems by Disturbed, as well as overly enthusiastic chubby geeks energetically trying to imitate Elvis Presley (and that's just the first hour alone). Probably the most surreal sight we've seen at Bullock's was a middle-aged housewife singing Katy Perry's titillating blockbuster hit "I Kissed a Girl." Nutty. Suffice it to say, if you get bored waiting for your turn in the rotation, at least there's plenty of entertainment to be had in the people-watching.

We're free as a bird while singing along to tunes in the car or alone at home. But the word "karaoke" always makes us want to run and hide because we're too desperately insecure to croon in front of people. That's why we think the private karaoke rooms at Geisha A Go Go — one of the newest nightclubs in Scottsdale — is so ingenious, the perfect cure for our rickety self-confidence. You and up to 17 of your friends can beat the stage fright and sing your favorite Top 40 and classic rock tunes for $30 to $100 per room per hour (rates vary depending on room size and demand). And here's a tip: Go on a slower night because there's a good chance that you can score one of the rooms for free. Now that's something to sing about.

What better way to start the workweek than to watch people get onstage and share their talent? Whether it's a longhaired hippie dude with a guitar doing a Simon & Garfunkel cover, a disgruntled college kid performing a spoken-word piece about the war in Iraq, or two inebriated girls just giggling at each other because they signed up on a dare, the open mic night at Yucca Tap Room offers a bit of entertainment for everyone. People can kick back and enjoy the low-pressure atmosphere while others try their hands at being performers, or they can participate instead of observe. (Everybody's got something they want to say, right?) The open mic night begins at 9 p.m.; we recommend signing up early so you hit the stage before Yucca's potent drinks kick in.

Midway games can humble one's pride. We've had our egos bruised many a time while seeking victory at impossible-to-win contests involving catapulting frogs or coins flipped at dishes. Particularly humiliating are games that require objects (be it baseballs or beanbags) flung through holes. Our throwing arm and hand-eye coordination are both weak, so we usually walk away empty-handed. But our luck is going to change this year because we've been practicing our pitching skills at R.T. O'Sullivan's weekly cornhole nights on Sundays.

For those unfamiliar with cornhole (other than as the slang word for sodomy), the game challenges players to toss small cloth bags (usually filled with ground-up corn kernels) into the hole on a rectangular ramp-like platform that sits about 20 feet away from the contestant. If your aim is true, you get three points for tossing your bag through the hole, or one point for just landing on the board.

If you're feeling up to the challenge, ask the friendly staff at this West Valley bar and grill to set up the game for you on the outdoor patio. Games consist of six "innings," during which excited players (either in singles or doubles) take turns tossing their bags.

And starting in January (i.e., when football is over), the place will feature a weekly single-elimination tournament for such prizes as free drinks or gift certificates. But whatever you do, try not to snicker when players start bragging about how good they are at cornholing.

Don't tell your professor we told you, but now Mesa Community College and ASU students have an excuse to ditch class on Tuesday nights. This strip mall bar across the street from MCC and just a few miles from ASU's Tempe campus hosts competitions for the play-along, interactive guitar-shredding video game. The place is definitely a dive that's known for some roughhousing — someone was stabbed outside the joint back in January — so keep the riffing on point and the funny business to a minimum.

The latest craze among Valley bars and clubs these days isn't some overpriced fruity martini or even playing host to the hottest DJs around. Nope, it's Rock Band nights, where patrons test their mettle at the ultra-hot video game (which involves groups of three or four playing simulated instruments and singing in time to chart-busting songs like Foo Fighters' "Learn to Fly" or Bon Jovi's "Wanted Dead or Alive") for fun and the admiration of their fellow drunks. None of the trend-following nightspots offers the chance to perform like an actual rock star the way Sandbar does. Every Wednesday night, at the Peoria location, this beach-themed bar encourage groups to turn out dressed in their finest rock 'n' roll wear and engage in vampish, Steven Tyler-style onstage antics. Bar credit is awarded to the combo that gets the highest score each week. And if there are 30 or more bands competing during the event, the best-dressed act nabs $300 in cash. Groupies are optional, however.

Layalena reigns supreme in indulging your Middle Eastern fantasies. It's a far cry from Tempe's swath of seedy college hookah hangouts. Think belly dancing, gourmet Lebanese-inspired eats, and a sumptuous interior with brick columns and stained-glass lanterns. There's an upscale-casual dress code, which scares off most of the students, and a separate hookah lounge with full bar for guests over 21. Layalena offers nearly a dozen high-quality imported tobacco brands, including Al-Fakber, in mouthwatering flavors like pomegranate and guava. Prices range from just $3 a person to $20 for specialty blends. If you can spare the extra dough, opt for their signature blend served on fresh grapefruit. One hit of the delish citrus-flavored shisha will rock your Kasbah!

Papago Brewing Company in Scottsdale is everything a brew pub (and your date) should be — comfortable, relaxed, and completely loaded. Beer oozes from every corner. There are beer taps decorating the lodgepole bar, beer signs on the walls, and a beer engine for cask-conditioned ales. No shit, a beer engine! The bar food's pretty decent — especially the wraps and design-your-own pizza — which is good, because you'll need something to soak up the lake of beer churning in your gut. The bar stocks a rotating selection of 30 brews on tap, including house beers like Hop Dog pale ale and El Robusto porter. Beer goggles, anyone?

Every good neighborhood bar has a few key things — a great selection of drinks, a fair pour, a great staff, and maybe a snack or three to help pace yourself. The Roosevelt has those essentials in spades, plus a couple of others for good measure, like a gorgeous building, lovingly restored, and the most wicked music choices around. We're not sure what we like more, the House Beer, brewed by Four Peaks and chilled with an argon cooling system so effective it'll bring tears to your eyes, or the deviled eggs that are so delicious they might trigger a war to see who gets the last one. These are important things, to be sure, so we'll be content to ponder them as we listen to old Radiohead songs that make us long for the carefree days of youth. Good thing the staff always remembers our names; they'll need them to nudge us out of our nostalgic haze. No matter, because The Roosevelt is, most importantly, a neighborhood bar, and a reminder that downtown is for livin', not just driving through. We'll ponder that, too, as we ride our bikes home from our favorite local bar.

Who'd have thought a tiny bar with a sign that gives a nod to '80s and ska scenesters would be such a friendly, welcoming spot? Usually, a bar that dips its toe in the too-cool pool will pack an attitudinal wallop. Instead, Shady's '60s interior is retro and relaxed. Pick a drink, any drink, and their engaging bartenders will remember it the next time you visit, even if it's months later. How do they do it? We don't know, but we're sure they've harnessed some of that mojo to stock a cool jukebox. From The Police to The Clash, this collection hits every disaffected teenage music fan's faux-nostalgic spot. We're not kidding about the friendly vibe. At Shady's, flying solo isn't an anomaly or prelude to a hookup; it's an invitation to make new friends. Good neighbors, indeed.

Coach House is an anomaly among the glitz and glamour of Scottsdale's nightlife scene. It doesn't boast an ample dance floor or a million-dollar sound system or even bottle-flipping bartenders who pour the latest designer drink. What this tiny, wooden-walled roadhouse, circa 1959, does have is plenty of homespun allure and old-school Scottsdale cool. So much so that after knocking back a few beers here, you'll feel like heading over to the Pink Pony for a juicy porterhouse and then poking around the Winfield Place Condos in search of Bob Crane's ghost. Speaking of spirits, Coach House also serves up plenty of great barfly standards like boilermakers, screwdrivers, and a mean Jack and Coke. It's a no-frills kinda place that draws in hardscrabble blue-collar types who kill their livers alongside the high-stylers.

Ah, the typical Arcadian. If you live in the neighborhood, and you want breakfast, you hit La Grande Orange. Light lunch? It's all about Pita Jungle. For your swankier dining needs, radioMILANO, the Vig, and Postino fit the bill. Coffee time? Stop by Mama Java's. And when you want to slum it up for some cheap cocktails, it's time for the Dilly Dally. But there's one spot we love to hit that's a little off the radar — as all great neighborhood bars should be.

Keep your eyes peeled when you drive on Indian School east of 44th Street, because you might miss this little jewel if you blink. JT's Bar & Grill is tucked away, marked by a small patio adorned year-round with Christmas lights. Step in and prepare yourself: The place is so little it overflows if just 40 people show up. But that makes things cozy as you settle up to the bar and order a few rounds of reasonably priced drinks. The smell of deep-fried goodness and cooking burgers fills the place as you watch your favorite sports game and relax. The place is a fave with the locals, and after one visit, it's easy to see why.

The first time we tried to find Casey Moore's Oyster House and Seafood Restaurant, we got lost. Located on Ash Avenue just two blocks from Mill Avenue, it's actually in a real neighborhood, historic Maple-Ash. By the end of the night, we were cursing the lucky stiffs who have houses just across the street. Whether you're looking for a Friday-night hangout or just a place to grab a drink after a gig, Casey's hits the spot with great specials on frosty mugs of Kilt Lifter and plenty of wait staff to bring it directly to you.

Stay inside and watch the game or chill outside on the spacious wrap-around patio and enjoy the night air.

Sure, the outdoor seating doesn't hold as much appeal in the dead of summer, but Casey's chipotle chicken wings make up for just about any slight. Yum.

It's kinda ironic that Crabby Don's has such a surly-sounding moniker (as well as a menacing, frown-face logo), considering that this Gilbert watering hole is a place where many nearby drinkers stop by to have an awesome time. Nearly every time we've visited, the place is usually packed with energetic and upbeat urbanites, ranging from bros dressed in their Volcom T's and watching extreme sports on the numerous large-screen plasma TVs, to jockish frat boys downing Heinekens while competing in fierce shuffleboard contests, or tattooed rocker-types standing near the stage during weekend gigs by local bands. (Call us crazy, but even the barflies seem a little happier here). The bar also has one of funniest slogans we've ever heard: "The liver is evil and must be punished!" Believe us, said internal organ gets plenty of abuse during happy hour every weekday from 11 a.m. to 7 p.m. (in addition to reverse happy hour every Monday through Thursday from 10 p.m. to 2 a.m.), when drink specials abound. It probably explains why everyone's so damn happy . . . because they've had a snootful by the time we show up.

Wanna know what really bores us? To tears? Adam Sandler flicks, for one. Not to mention flaky artist-types. Another thing we find particularly tedious and mind-numbing are bars in which there's absolutely nothing to do other than drink, stare at the boob tube, or endure depressing stories from dour drunks. But Exit 7 doesn't roll like that, yo, because the Glendale tavern features plenty of lively diversions to engage in with your mates while sampling more than a dozen different brews on tap (including Stella Artois, Blue Moon, and Widmer). Four pool tables are available for play, in addition to three dart machines, three MegaTouch touch-screen units, and a few arcade games like Big Buck Hunter and Silver Strike Bowling 2007. But if an argument over who sunk the 8-ball ensues, don't head out to the parking lot to settle things. Instead, go a few rounds on the Dragon Punch boxing game in the corner. It'll probably keep the bartender from calling the cops.

The wait is over. The heavyweight champ's finally squaring off against the persistent challenger and the title belt is most definitely on the line. The hype has been relentlessly building for months, and it's sure to be an unforgettable donnybrook, with the irresistible force truly meeting the immovable object. And if your broke-as-a-joke ass only had the $49.95 to spring for the pay-per-view, you could witness history in the making. So unless you'd rather catch the highlights on YouTube or the evening news, head for either R.T. O'Sullivan's, as the mini-chain of Irish-themed taverns shows all the pay-per-views for World Wrestling Entertainment, mixed-martial-arts events like Ultimate Fighting Championship, and the major boxing cards. And while you're watching Triple-H body-slam Randy Orton (or, perhaps, Tito Ortiz bitch-slapping Ken Shamrock), enjoy the tavern's brewpub repast. Sure beats the cold pizza you were gonna nosh during the fight.

This watering hole, located inside the downtown Phoenix Hyatt Regency, is one of our favorite drinking establishments to pop into after a game, concert, or art shindig. The interior is bathed in sleek hardwood floors, faint lighting, and flat-screen TVs. The crowd is different from a typical sports bar — there are tourists, business professionals, regular-looking Joes/Janes, and musicians from the Phoenix Symphony, who sometimes walk across the street from Symphony Hall to take the edge off their post-performance energy. Entrees, such as the chicken relleno sandwich and seven varieties of burgers, are around $11, and drinks are affordable, especially on Thirsty Thursdays, when mojitos are $2 off the regular price.

People living in Phoenix proper are spoiled. Two of our three major stadiums are practically in their backyards, and with that comes a whole bunch of marquee-name sports bars downtown. But where do Phoenicians go to catch a game when they can't make it to the stadium and don't want to deal with trying to park, or navigate the construction downtown? Half Moon Sports Grill, in the Biltmore 'hood. This upscale sports bar covers all the bases with a large, misted patio, spacious multi-room seating, and parking garage. Mingle with the business crowd and sports rowdies during their 3 to 7 p.m. happy hour as attentive staff satisfies your cravings for above-average bar food and strong drink. There are more screens than you can count, including several all-important extra-large projection screens. And unlike the downtown sports bars, Half Moon gives discounts when the D-Backs are playing.

We come to Santisi Brothers to indulge our sports-based ADD. It's easy to do here, since there are well over 100 TVs. That's enough to play all of this year's Kobe Bryant temper tantrums at once. Not that we'd want to, since all that snarking would distract from the pool tables, dart boards, and regularly scheduled Texas Hold'em tournaments that make this spot a mini-Cheers in the West Valley. Peep their monthly roster — this sports bar has a busier event calendar than most socialites we know. The friendly staff will remember you, and your foodie friends will thank you, because the food here is no mere afterthought. Their wings, pizzas, and the best stromboli on the west side are so tasty we've been known to drive all the way across town just to indulge in some Santisi Brothers magic. Sure, we'll probably be drawn to their wall of 11, count 'em, 11 65-inch TVs like moths to a flame, but when there are more than 20 different beers to choose from, and sports we've never seen before played in front of us, we're hard pressed to rush back to our living rooms. Our one lonely little TV seems so sad in comparison.

Mere minutes by car from the Cardinals' stadium, this Peoria sports bar is the overachieving older brother of the now-defunct Tempe location. (Sure, we might have downed a drink or two there, back in the day.) This is no college bar — it's all grown up and gone Sports Bar, and a great one at that. At this McDuffy's, we're loving the large tables that are perfect for packing in fans for game night. It's easy to watch the big game from any of the 80 large-screen TVs that light up the place. We love the loud vibe here — it's a sports bar, people; join the chorus of boooos for a bad call or the cheers for a great play. Dive right in to the hearty food — not just your regular bar burger and fries. We hear the French toast is good, but we're not aware of a sport starting quite early enough to get us out of bed to try it. Good luck with that, yourself, since McDuffy's sports a huge following after the game, with dancing five nights a week until 2 a.m. Good idea — time to practice your grown-up game after watching the big game.

We've been going to the Woodshed II for more than a decade and, we gotta admit, we never tire of this way-off-the-radar, low-key dive. The location is in a dimly lit strip on the northwest corner of Dobson Road and University Drive that looks as though it's been abandoned for 20 years. Inside, signed photographs from professional athletes and autographed pennants by Sun Devil greats from back in the day hang behind the bar, in the billiards room, and next to the 10-plus televisions tuned to the evening's games. The menu is pub grub, but everything we've eaten (and we've tried a lot) kicks butt, especially the wings and chicken sandwiches. So rub shoulders with the blue-collar clientele, which usually consists of duders fresh from a softball game, and chillax.

This converted two-level nightclub in Old Town Scottsdale proudly flies Arizona teams' flags outside along with those of Michigan and Illinois teams, for all the Midwestern transplants to our fine state. We like it because the laid-back atmosphere and comfortable setting ensures all fans can get along amongst 40 screens and two big projectors. (These are crucial to any sports bar. Upper Deck could teach many of the other bars around town claiming the "sports bar" label.) Upper Deck goes the extra furlong over its competition with off-track betting upstairs. And once you're in the door, it does its best to keep you there with free Wi-Fi, cheap weekly food specials, and occasional live bands or DJs at night.

It took us a long time to choose this one. The Arizona Cardinals' (and subsequent Fiesta Bowl and Super Bowl) exodus from Sun Devil Stadium left Tempe without the sports scene the East Valley was accustomed to. Longtime game-day favorites like McDuffy's and Bandersnatch vanished and, apparently, locals were left without a good gathering place. We should know — we grew up here and visited five of Tempe's so-called best sports bars before choosing Four Peaks Brewery. If you live in Tempe and don't want to drive far to catch a game, this is your spot. Though not technically a sports bar, it's still packed on game days with fans rooting for the local teams (and the Vikings during the NFL season). What it lacks in flat-screens, it makes up for with a nice selection of tasty microbrews and relaxing patio atmosphere.

If you're serious about billiards, follow the pros. Literally shoved into the corner pocket of a Tempe strip mall, Kolby's Corner Pocket attracts the top names in pool. Last year, trick shot pro Johnny Archer took on fans at Kolby's, and earlier this year, local superstar Scott Frost bested world-famous One Pocket player Efren Reyes on his home turf. Sure, there are cheaper pool halls in town, but cheap often equals moth-eaten felt, shabby balls, and rickety old cues. Trust us: You want your balls to be smooth and fresh, and Kolby's equipment is in tip-top shape. The hall has 15 nine-foot regulation tables, a full menu, and bar. There are also a few less expensive (but smaller) hourly tables, if you're not on par with the pros.

Cash Inn has managed to persevere where other lesbian clubs have closed, and there are many reasons for this. The club gets its share of regulars, for one thing, but Cash Inn's combination of cheap drinks (including $1 draft beers on Tuesdays, $2 pitchers on Thursdays) and expanded entertainment events draws lesbians from both other bars and out of town, and the girls run the gamut, from feminine, politically minded college girls to the older, mullet-sporting types. Contrary to its name, Cash Inn Country isn't dominated by a huge yee-haw vibe (although there is country dancing on Fridays and Saturdays). DJ Sting spins Top 40 and hip-hop on Thursdays, and the bar also hosts everything from Rock Band competitions and karaoke to Texas Hold'em.

The décor in this chic lounge is striking — a beautiful, wood-paneled Art Deco bar; white Roman pillars; sparkling chandeliers; burgundy leather couches, and a black baby grand piano all add to the classy ambiance. The drink of choice is the martini, of which Amsterdam serves more than 100 different variations, each served with a huge chunk of fruit. The music is a mix of dance tunes, diva crooning, and avant jazz, but the place is so crowded with warm bodies and loud voices on weekends that you probably won't hear the music much anyway.

As for eye candy, Amsterdam's got something for everyone. Though it's one of the most celebrated "gay bars" in the city and draws the lion's share of young, hot gay men (and a good portion of lesbians, too), it's also become a magnet for stylish straight women and the hetero-metrosexual men who pursue them. Amsterdam's element of refinement is balanced with tongue-out flamboyance — the club offers everything from $5 Martinis & Manicures on Mondays to "live boys" from brokestraightboys.com dancing on the patio for special events.

The building that formerly housed the clubs Shepherd's and The Eagle is now Retrobar, a groovy, space age-themed club that combines vintage fashion with retro imagery. Guests are greeted by a cluster of mannequins, all dressed in Studio 54-style garb and huddled around tables. A gigantic flat-screen TV covers half the south wall of the bar and plays muted music videos while '70s disco favorites boom out of Retrobar's club speakers. The lava lamps behind the bar encompass every color of the rainbow, fitting for a neighborhood gay bar that has a black leather-paneled VIP cove. The vibe is low-key, with mostly 30-something males huddling around the bar to discuss politics and popular culture — or just to sip mixed drinks. Retrobar also has its own signature drink, a $1 Jell-O shot called an Alien Cocksucker. Beam us up, hotties!

Some things are just classic. Hard to top. If you have a fetish for dank smells, dirty fish tanks, and hot salty nuts, then there is no better dive for you than the Dilly Dally. If you're turned on by doing tequila shots with old men and staring at titty photo collages, then you won't be disappointed. We can't resist; we've gotta say it: Don't dillydally. Get over there.

Whoever invented the phrase "green around the gills" was Irish, probably from war-torn Belfast. How do we know? 'Cause we braved Skeptical Chymist's annual Guinness & Oyster Festival last St. Pat's and personally experienced the culinary terrorism — er, hallowed Irish tradition — of swallowing raw marine slime and then chugging a pint of thick, black beer. We revisit the experience in our nightmares. Often.

However, watching other people screw on that what-the-hell-have-I-just-done face makes for great spectator drama on St. Patrick's Day, and the Chymist is the only joint in town we've found that honors this (most questionable) custom. BYO barf bag.

There is so much eye candy on display at SkyBar, it's hard to figure out exactly where to rest your gaze. (Just make sure that when you go in for the kill, your target's legal — the place was busted on Valentine's Day with more than 20 underage drinkers inside.) But it's not quite your typical Scottsdale fake-tit fest; you're likely to see a model or two from The Agency, located downstairs at the Mondrian, gliding around the room as well. It's set up to feel kind of like you're lounging on a wealthy friend's outdoor patio, and the fireplace burning in the winter months is a nice touch. If you've got the cash, you can rent a bed (well, the bar calls them "veiled cabanas") and get a little cozier with your date. This is definitely a place to look sharp at — the ambiance is just swanky enough to let you know you're in Scottsdale, but not grossly over the top, like other Old Town bars we can think of.

Technically, this place is a restaurant, a solid, old-school prime rib joint that also does great seafood and still features a salad bar. (You know the type.) But the real secret here is the bar, which is dark and friendly and filled with the most interesting people. You never know if you're going to run into the criminal defense attorney who got off Bishop O'Brien after he hit a drunk Indian and just kept driving — or a Deep Throat-type who whispers that he's got the real goods on who ordered Don Bolles' death. It's not a Scottsdale crowd, that's for sure.

When it comes to hotel bars, we don't want one of those sealed-off, hipper-than-thou Ian Schrager nightclubs. We want a place to chill out, chat up the bartender, and watch the foot traffic. And, on every count, the piano bar tucked into the lobby of the Biltmore delivers. The look is pure Frank Lloyd Wright, but the vibe is casual: You can watch the Suns game and even play checkers. Don't miss the Tequila Sunrise — the classic drink was invented here, and the bartenders are happy to show off their skill.

Clubbing is fun, yes. But after a few nights of pulsating lights that keep your pupils in a constant state of dilation, bass beats that shake your arm hairs, and chemical poisoning from your spray tan, you're on the verge of a code 10 anxiety attack. It might be time to peel off your sparkly dress and kick off your eff-me pumps for something a little more relaxed. Head to Vocé Ristoranté and Lounge for a night out that won't wear you out. Revive your protein levels with fine Italian cuisine cooked up by chef/owner Michael Lepore and give your eardrums a rest by taking in the smooth sounds of live jazz musicians like Dennis Rowland, Khani Cole, and Rachel Eckroth. With a rotating list of national performers, Vocé draws a sophisticated crowd every evening. So instead of cramping your calves all night freaking with some duder on a dance floor, cozy up in a booth or at a table for some luscious lounge time.

Whether it's rock bands or baseball stadiums, re-creating the old charm just never quite seems to work. That's why we were skeptical when Chez Nous — the super-dark '60s cocktail lounge on Seventh Avenue and Indian School Road that was torn down and replaced by a British supermarket — announced that it was reopening the Nous at the old Fat Cat's bar on Grand Avenue. However, it's pretty insane how dead-on the new Chez Nous looks compared with the old one (that is, after your eyes adjust to the dungeon-like lighting). There's the same weird rock water shrine behind the bar, carbon-copy cushion-y booths, and identical vintage velour wallpaper. Plus, many of the resident jazz, blues, and soul bands still jam at the space, including Roscoe's Motown Mania on Friday nights. Something else that hasn't changed: They still accept cash only.

The club scene in Phoenix can be as fickle as a pickle. Some new nightspots throw open their doors and are the place to see and be seen, packing in the hotties by the hundreds. Meanwhile, other places can debut to much pomp and circumstance but remain emptier than a ghost town. Thanks to its swank environs, bangin' DJ lineup, and numerous off-the-chain elements, the brand-new PHX Nightclub has been chosen by fate to be the former. Every night it's been open there's been a line out the door, populated by hopeful honeys and homies waiting to gain access to the joint, which rocks an upscale urban vibe. On Fridays and Saturdays, hip-hop, R&B, and Top 40 jams get dropped by the DJ crew. Break out your best threads if you're thinking about dropping by, because the upscale club is strictly "dress to impress," yo.

The charm of Centerfold's is threefold: hot chicks, cheap drinks, and good music. The dancers here run the gamut, from blue-eyed blondes with enhanced breasts to petite Asians in tiny neon thongs to beautiful black women with sparkling body jewelry. The common thread among them is a desire to make money — and the more money you flash, the more attention you get (we recommend leaving a stack of singles sitting on your table — but keep an eye on it). The stage at Centerfold's includes not only the traditional stripper poles but a nifty "spinning handle" suspended from the ceiling that dancers can use to twirl themselves in circles. Patrons who aren't ogling the goods at seats around the stage can relax in the club's plush velour chairs, or kick it in the VIP area with a titillating private dance. Drink specials vary, but are ever-present, and the pitchers of beer here are never anything but ice cold. And the music is the best exotic dance soundtrack in the city, covering everything from contemporary hip-hop to classic metal to blues and industrial. Centerfold's gets bonus points for the sidewalk banter, too, as customers who step outside to smoke usually get regaled with other peoples' tales of arrests, new tattoos, and where so-and-so got her new boobs.

This long-standing north Phoenix rock club got a new, state-of-the-art sound system in the past year, allowing for concert-hall sound in a small room. Owner Joe Grotto has been booking bands that know how to take full advantage of a sonic boom, from the manic rockers of -itis to the brutal metal of Hellen to the roaring blues guitar of Carvin Jones. The Grotto has been hosting more all-ages shows in the past several months, and Joe Grotto recently relaxed his covers policy (bands used to be required to incorporate a certain percentage of cover songs into their sets). Now the club hosts more original music than any other club on the north side and packs the house on weekends. It's bumpin' on weeknights, too, as the pool and dart tournaments at Joe's — combined with such drink specials as $1.50 domestic longnecks — attract plenty of people looking for a friendly, good-time vibe.

Here's some groovy news for you: Ever since opening its doors last spring, Goat Head Saloon has become a destination place for fans of jam rock. Every month, this charming Mesa watering hole hosts gigs by bands specializing in the funky, Grateful Dead-style genre, usually featuring extended solos and fits of psychedelic jamming. Groups such as Xtra Ticket, Endoplasmic, and The Noodles perform here regularly, as do such out-of-towners as 3 Ugly Guys and Alfred Howard and the K23 Orchestra. The place evokes the spirit of the old Sail Inn (the infamous bygone east Valley jam-rock hangout), with the usual crowd of granola-munchers and tie-dyed types turning out for shows. It's not all hippies, however, as a varied crowd of rock 'n' roll fans make the trip to Goat Head every week to have a funky time.

There are other blues clubs in town, so what it is about the Rhythm Room that separates it from the pack, year after year? At first, we thought it could be the sheer number of shows at the place — there's live music almost every single night of the week. Then we thought, it's gotta be because the Rhythm Room gets the majority of old-school blues players and modern purveyors to play there exclusively (blues stars like Candye Kane, Junior Brown, Johnny Rawls, and Louisiana Red will always skip other venues in town to be at the RR). But after years of attending shows here, we've finally realized what it is that gives this small, dark blues club its real magic: the sense of community and comfort.

Owner Bob Corritore, aside from being a renowned harmonica player, blues producer, and DJ, is a walking Rolodex of blues players. When a blues legend dies, Corritore makes sure there's a tribute show at the Rhythm Room (in the case of late blues drummer Chico Chism, there's a tribute show every year), and everybody who's anybody in the local blues scene shows up to jam. Best of all, nobody at the Rhythm Room is afraid to dance — this isn't some stodgy arts center where Buddy Guy's sound engineer will give you the stinkeye for coughing during the performance. Getting down is encouraged at the Rhythm Room, as the regulars and the performers both seem to feel that if you're not movin', they're not groovin'.

From the hundreds of cowboy hats adorning the walls to the sawdust on the floor, there's no place more "country" than Handlebar-J. This steakhouse/nightclub has been owned and operated by the Herndon family since 1975, and owner Gwen Herndon's sons, Ron and Ray, can often be found performing as the Herndon Brothers on stage.

Guests such as Starfire and Jessi Coulter pop in to perform every so often, too, and on the rare nights when there's not live music, Handlebar-J's jukebox selection of C&W classics keeps patrons two-steppin' and line dancing.

This bar — formerly Thunder Pass, located in the no man's land between Mesa and Apache Junction — is one of the most eclectic watering holes around, a place where cowboys, biker dudes, and young Republicans somehow mingle with one another without overturning tables and tearing out ceiling fans. The focus is definitely on the bygone Western era, when men in Wranglers posted up at the bar and drank cheap, cold brews until the cows came home. Folks flock to the spacious dance floor on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday when DJs spin honky-tonkin' new-country hits. It's definitely a yee-hawing good time.

There's more to Texaz Grill than great Texas comfort food. When you're chowing down on a Texas-size chicken-fried steak, with a massive mug of iced tea waiting for you to slurp down your gob, you may think there's nothing that could possibly enhance your experience. Well, pardner, you'd be wrong. Just ask owner Steve Freidkin. If there's one thing a real Texas joint needs, it's a jukebox. It just so happens that Texaz Grill has the best one in town. For just a few shiny coins, you can hear all your favorite Texas musicians from Stevie Ray Vaughn to ZZ Top to The Fabulous Thunderbirds. Listen to "Texas Flood" while you're shovelin' down award-winning Terlingua Chili and just try to tell us we're full of bull.

Sure, the parking costs $5 (and there's never enough of it), the security can be rude, and all shows are general admission and standing room only. So what makes the Marquee Theatre the best place to see national acts? Well, one reason the shows rock at the Marquee is because of the venue's sound and light system, which is state of the art. We've heard crappy bands sound good at the Marquee Theatre, which isn't an easy trick to pull off. But the main reason the Marquee gets this award is because the venue gets all the great national shows. Sure, the arenas around town get the familiar stadium-fillers like Rolling Stones, The Police, and Rush, but Marquee Theatre has a knack for hosting hot acts that are just starting to crack the national market or already have a huge indie following — The Killers, Tegan & Sara, Dresden Dolls, Hank III, Peter Murphy, Dilated Peoples. Now, if we could just find somewhere to park.

Sure, The Sets hosts its share of mid-level national shows (everything from punk legends The Dwarves to underground hip-hop act Bear The Astronaut), but this massive venue hosts more local shows than national ones and, indeed, more local shows than any other venue of its size. The bulk of The Sets' calendar is filled with Valley artists' gigs, from local indie rockers Kinch and rising Phoenix death-metal stars Abigail Williams to hip-hopper Intrinzik and folk-rock heartthrob POEM. With Kim LaRowe (former booking agent for the now-defunct Mason Jar) handling business at The Sets, the venue's become known for providing a great atmosphere for local artists to hold their CD-release parties. That's pretty sweet for locals, as The Sets has one of the largest club stages in Tempe and a state-of-the-art sound system. Bands won't get bored between sets, either, as The Sets has a large game room, an outdoor patio, and three full-service bars (so singing snockered is easier than ever).

Since they debuted on the Phoenix music scene in January 2006, the rockers of Digital Summer have experienced a level of success that many local bands would kill for. The five-member outfit has not only gotten its songs in regular rotation on Valley radio powerhouse KUPD, it's also landed gigs opening for major-label bands like Godsmack and Sevendust, and amassed a legion of fans who pack its shows at such venues as the Marquee Theatre in Tempe. How'd they do it? Simple. Such accomplishments came about through a combination of tireless self-promotion (including plastering their ubiquitous stickers on street signs and buildings around the Valley), mobilizing a devoted street team of die-hard DS followers, and blasting out a radio-friendly melodic hard-rock sound in the same vein as Chevelle and Staind. In a perfect world, the band would be signed to a major label and have its videos all over MTV. But given the ever-tumultuous state of the music industry, the boys of Digital Summer haven't accomplished that particular goal just yet. Given their history, however, we're sure it's gonna happen someday soon. Remember us when you're famous, guys.

Formed in 1994, Tempe-based quartet The Chadwicks is one of the few bands in the city whose repertoire consists almost entirely of cover songs. Even The Chadwicks' "alter ego" band, Rock Lobster, plays covers exclusively. What makes the band stand out is the scope of its playlists — these guys cover more than a hundred songs, spanning several genres and decades. They can turn on and tune in at a '60s dance party with songs by The Doors, Van Morrison, and The Rolling Stones; they can rock your bell-bottoms with '70s songs by Don McLean, Lynyrd Skynyrd, and Aerosmith; and they keep it contemporary with covers of artists like Modest Mouse, The Strokes, Maroon 5, and Weezer. And if you're worried they skipped the '80s, fear not — check out Rock Lobster, which plays nothing but '80s hits, from Frankie Goes to Hollywood and The Bangles to Naked Eyes and Dead or Alive. Whatever your musical tastes, the guys in The Chadwicks have you covered.

Very few tribute bands attain such a degree of national success that members of the original band recognize or perform with the tribute band or such that the tribute band is able to sustain itself on a national tour. There are The Atomic Punks (a tribute to Roth-era Van Halen) and Led Zepagain (Led Zeppelin tribute), both from California. And there is UnSkinny Bop, the nation's foremost Poison tribute band, from right here in Phoenix. The band not only physically resembles '80s-era Poison — right down to the big hair, lipstick, and spandex — but does a pretty amazing re-creation of Poison's sound live, too. UnSkinny Bop is so sincere in its spot-on renditions of Poison songs that the band actually records the covers and posts the audio files on the UnSkinny Bop Web site. The band is so sublimely imitative of the original that — prior to Poison's reuniting — promoters were looking to book UnSkinny Bop to open shows for Poison's fellow '80s hair-metal acts Warrant and Firehouse. UnSkinny Bop recently returned from a national jaunt called the Bad Boys 2008 Tour and is currently unleashing its brand of jock 'n' roll at a Valley club near you.

TDO rocks on the contemporary tip, with an original sound that blends folk, rock, jazz, and pop — sometimes in a single song. The band's latest (and only) studio album, East Meets West, displays the Phoenix trio's ability to merge smart acoustic arrangements with unbridled jams, but it's Ten Dollar Outfit's two live albums — Live at The Clubhouse and Live at Chandler Center — that really show off the band's musical dexterity. Like the Grateful Dead, Ten Dollar Outfit takes its studio recordings and stretches them into epic, extemporaneous odysseys in a live setting. Given that frontman Brian Chartrand names Steely Dan as one of his biggest influences, it's no surprise that these jams are often keyboard-heavy and lean in a progressive-rock direction. In the studio, TDO is solid, but the live show is where the trio really comes unhinged and rocks it. And in an era when studio wizardry often masks musical ineptitude, being able to say your group is a "live band" is quite an accomplishment.

You couldn't go anywhere at the 2008 SxSW music festival in Austin without hearing somebody rave about Tempe band What Laura Says Thinks and Feels. They were named in Soundcheck magazine's "Label Alert: The 411 for Lovelorn A&R Reps" section, which proclaimed that WLSTaF "will slay you" live, and "you will die of pure, unadulterated happiness." They received a shout-out from Miami New Times music editor Arielle Castillo, who called them "a bunch of shaggy, long-haired types with a really pleasant, tripped-out, fleshed-out, psych-y sound." They got props in numerous national music blogs, from austin360.com and Some Velvet Blog to stereogum.com and ultra8201. They even were mentioned in news stories by nme.com, MTV, and Reuters.

Anyone who's heard the amazing pop arrangements and Beach Boys-esque vocal harmonies of these multi-instrumentalists shouldn't be surprised at all the buzz. What's shocking is that the band is still unsigned by a record label. We suspect it's not because there's a lack of interest (the band reports it has been in talks with some labels but won't reveal details until a contract is inked). If you didn't catch the band at SxSW, check out one of its local shows soon, because this band is bound to hit the highway for greener pastures at some point.

Led by singer/guitarist Mark Zubia (formerly of the Chimeras, the Pistoleros, and the Zubia Brothers), Los Guys provide the perfect medium between drunken dance-party music and straight-up rockin' Americana. The core is the soulful 'n' tough twang of Zubia, the consistency of drummer Gary Smith (also of alt-rock trio Storyline), the coiling rhythms of bassist Paul Cordone (also of Phoenix funk band Chocolate Fountain), and pianist/organist Tim Rovnak (whose crisp, soloist style is similar to the Rolling Stones' main ivories man, Chuck Leavell). But there are also numerous notable "guest" members who join Los Guys in the studio and on the stage, including guitarist Josh Kennedy of Violet Wild, rock troubadour Shelby James, indie rocker Jim Beach of the Jim Beach band, and Scott Andrews of Roger Clyne & the Peacemakers and Gin Blossoms.

This six-piece band was formed in 2002, after a group of musicians got together for a last-minute gig at a company awards party in Hawaii. When the new band was informed it'd be playing five nights, it assembled a list of cover songs that it could quickly learn. At the party, the company vice president dared the band to let some businessmen sing onstage with it. The Instant Classics have been letting countless people sing onstage with them ever since, branding themselves a live karaoke band. They play everywhere from clubs to company parties to weddings, and their song list has grown to include something for everyone, whether you want to sing your guts out to Alanis Morissette's "You Oughtta Know," slaughter Bob Marley's "Jammin'," or drag your friends onstage to shout along to AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long." Free-for-alls are a regular occurrence, especially as the hour grows late and singers consume more alcohol. Have you ever seen six of your colleagues onstage with a rock band, drunkenly swaying arm-in-arm and all shouting, "Give it away give it away give it away now," into a single microphone? Call The Instant Classics, and you may see just that. The best part is, all the musicians are skilled session players and seasoned from touring, so no matter how bad you sound, they always sound good, managing to mask the most peripheral imperfections.

When the young, petite sisters of death-metal band Hellen, Mindy and Desiree Duponte, first caught our attention two years ago, we were impressed with their raging brand of guttural metal and psycho-operatic vocals. But before the sisters could fully realize their potential as Hellen, Desiree passed away suddenly in April 2007. Mindy took a hiatus, unsure whether she would even continue playing. Ultimately, she decided to continue with Hellen, landing new bandmate Corrie Zazzera (former guitarist for Phoenix punk band The Dames), who found Duponte on MySpace and auditioned at her house.

The result is an even heavier, more full-sounding Hellen than ever before. The live track "OMG," on the band's MySpace page, showcases the burlier sound, and the unfinished demos ("Falling Asleep" and "Pow") contain some impressive vocal harmony by Zazzera and Duponte, whose lead vocal/fierce drumming combination is an anomaly. They've got a handful of new songs and started recording their first album in the spring. In between recording, they've opened gigs for national acts like Otep and played other shows on the West Coast, proving you just can't keep a good metal band down.

Onstage there's a bassoon, a bass clarinet, a cello, an assortment of percussive instruments stacked and hanging near a Mac, an acoustic guitar, and, beside the singer's microphone, an accordion. The band members pick up their respective instruments and begin to play. The sounds they construct are as haunting as they are unique.

Even in a music scene as varied as Phoenix's, Dry River Yacht Club stands out. The guitarist plays like a percussionist, bobbing up and down as he slaps his guitar body to keep the beat. The percussion is like a range of accents punctuating the lilting, singsong style of the vocalist.

Calling Dry River Yacht Club experimental doesn't cut it. Perhaps transcendental is more fitting. Though they play venues like Rhythm Room and Yucca Tap Room, they don't quite fit in with the alt-country rockers or the R&B acts they share the stage with. But put them in a concert hall or a theater and they'd still stand out.

Maybe that's why Dry River Yacht Club works. They're so beautiful in the way they're completely out of place that you can't help but listen.

When the grand prize for a Battle of the Bands series includes 70 hours of recording time at Highland Recorders (birthplace of recordings and mixes for the likes of Fall Out Boy and Phunk Junkeez), $500 cash, a $750 shopping spree at Highland Clothing in Scottsdale Fashion Square, and an opening slot at U-Fest to set the stage for acts like Disturbed and Slipknot, the competition has got to be good. So it was with local rock station 98 KUPD's "Rock Fight" series (also sponsored by New Times). Among the 22 bands who duked it out (and advanced) in the preliminary rounds were metal monsters The Human Condition (featuring Wiley Arnett from Sacred Reich), trip-hop/rock outfit Bionic Jive (featuring Blunt Club host Emerg McVay), hard rockers The Sammus Theory (who've enjoyed some exposure already on MTV2), and metal band The Asylum.

Perhaps the reason the battles were such wars was because not just any band could pay a fee and enter — the contestants were chosen from CDs sent to KUPD DJ Shan Man. This series enjoyed its inaugural run this summer, with preliminary rounds every Saturday from May 31 through June 21, semifinals Saturday, July 5, and Friday, July 11, and finals the following Saturday, July 12. We expect a strong Rock Fight next summer, too, in the name of keeping the Valley hot.

Attending a Peachcake show is like taking a messy frolic on acid through Candyland with a bunch of demented children's show characters. You're liable to be covered in confetti, candy, and silly string, and you're actively encouraged to dance and sing along with vocalist/percussionist/bassist Stefan Pruett, who's seldom seen without some sort of superhero mask on and who often runs through the crowd with a megaphone. The other members of Peachcake wear eclectic costumes made up of superhero capes, wigs, hats, and masks. Glow-in-the-dark sticks and Hula Hoops are usually present onstage, along with giant plastic lollipops. The show's hardly high-tech, but it's definitely fun and interactive, perfectly fitting for Peachcake's danceable, synth-driven, quirky pop.

To say that a little backbiting and trash-talking goes on in the Valley's DJ scene is about as obvious an understatement as admitting that Amy Winehouse likes to let loose once in a while. We've lost count of the times boastful beat-jugglers have bent our ears dissing the skills of their fellow wax workers. So it's kinda refreshing when the normally catty members of the Valley's turntablist scene give props to one of their own, namely 27-year-old house music maestro DJ Tranzit (a.k.a. Steven Chung). "I think he's got phenomenal skills and I very much respect what he does," says Joe DiPadova (who's recently been dividing his time between Montreal and Phoenix). "A lot of DJs have trouble filling a room, but he's built a big following with blood, sweat, and tears." Said crowds are tuning into Tranzit's Tuesday-night mix show on Energy Radio FM, and turning out to hear Tranzit spin his style of electro house during Switch Wednesdays at Pussycat Lounge in Scottsdale. The former Albuquerque resident, who relocated to the PHX earlier this decade, has also entertained the masses opening for house music gods Paul Oakenfold, Donald Glaude, and Bad Boy Bill. "Steven just puts on a really good show behind the turntables," says DJ Senbad. "He's engaging with his crowd, gives up a lot of energy, and is a helluva entertainer."

This year, the Blunt Club moved from its longtime location, Hollywood Alley in Mesa, to set up shop at Club Red in Tempe. Part of the reason for the move was that the Blunt Club founders wanted a change of scenery, but they also just plain needed more room. Other hip-hop weeklies have hosted live music to decent-size crowds on other nights of the week, but promoters know that Thursday nights belong to the Blunt Club and, let's face it, there's really just no competing with them. Valley hip-hop lovers hit this weekly by the hundreds to hear turntable mash-ups from resident DJs Element and Pickster Uno, fierce freestyle flows from host Emerg McVay, and performances from underground up-and-comers on the national scene, like One Block Radius, One Belo, Aceyalone, and DJ Babu of Dilated Peoples. Local artists like Drunken Immortals, Ill Al the Anglo Saxon, and Cousins of the Wize contribute to the weekly's socially conscious, "one love" hip-hop vibe, and the evening overall encompasses a free-flowing, fully instrumental community jam.

This weekly dance night draws major players from the Phoenix hip-hop scene, whether it's old-school producers like 5Fith Coast Records head Roca Dolla, industry peeps like Power 98 deejay Karlie Hustle (founder of Groove Candy) and DJ M2, or cutting-edge MCs like Kavy, Grime, and Knawledg. Local hip-hop artists know that this is the place to network, and collectives like Cut Throat Logic, Woodpile, Sol Camp, and Tha Formula make Groove Candy a focal point for distributing fliers and working the crowd. Before signing their respective record deals with Ludacris' Disturbing Tha Peace label, 50 Cent's G-Unit label, and The Game's Black Wall Street label, local MCs Willy Northpole, Hot Rod, and Juice all made the rounds at Groove Candy (they still pop in when their recording and touring schedules allow). The sheer number of local hip-hop artists at Groove Candy makes it more than just a night of kicking it to old-school hip-hop, R&B, and soul — it makes Groove Candy a weekly meeting place for the new breed of Phoenix MCs.

This radio program really plays up local hip-hop in a way that no other commercial radio show has ever done. Every Friday, from 1 to 4 a.m., hosts Ramses Ja and Bootleg Kev spin tracks by the Valley's best hip-hop artists, highlighting fresh cuts from the likes of Justus, Tha Formula, and Grime, and doing on-air interviews with locals including Kavy, Skunk One from Sol Camp, and Pokafase (the latter is also on-air talent for the station). In addition to exposing audiences to the newest in Phoenix hip-hop, the show features a "Homegrown" component that includes a "Resurrection Session" for classic cuts from Arizona MCs. With all the Phoenix pride in the air, and DJ M2 spinning live mash-ups of underground hip-hop, Friday Night Flavas has established itself as the tastiest hip-hop dish on radio right now.

Justus, one of the MCs of long-standing local hip-hop group Cut Throat Logic, felt he might've been going out on a limb when he asked the legendary KRS-One to perform on a track for his first solo album. After all, the two had just met after Justus opened for KRS-One's show at the now-defunct Brickhouse last fall. But that show turned collaborative when Justus joined KRS-One onstage for a freestyle battle. Justus asked KRS-One to join him at the studio that night, but the MC made him take a rain check. He made good on his word a month later, though, when Justus opened for KRS-One in Los Angeles. The former frontman of Boogie Down Productions recorded some raps for Justus' song "Hip-Hop Today & Forever," shouting out Justus' name and giving props to the city of Phoenix. The song appears on Justus' record, Born Justus.

This supergroup includes some of the most talented blues players in Phoenix — Big Pete Pearson (vocals), Chris James (guitar, vocals), Bob Corritore (harmonica), Brian Fahey (drums), and Patrick Rynn (bass) — and they've been bringing a classic Chicago blues sound to the Valley since 1991, when Corritore founded the band. They've been bringing down the house at their home venue and namesake, the Rhythm Room, ever since, also serving as a backing band for touring acts such as Bo Diddley, Louisiana Red, Pinetop Perkins, Nappy Brown, and Henry Gray. Whether they're rocking a raucous blues number like Lowell Fulson's "Too Many Drivers at the Wheel" or a slinky slide-guitar crawler like Little Milton's "Possum in My Tree," the Rhythm Room All-Stars always deliver a high-energy, soulful show brimming with blues. They play regularly at the Rhythm Room — more than monthly — but can most often be found rocking out on the third Friday of every month.

Every Sunday and Monday night, two of the Valley's best jazz ensembles, Jiggle and Moseyhorse, nestle themselves in the exposed-brick corner of this artsy beer/wine bar and play the hippest burning jazz in town. Jiggle, which starts at 9 p.m. each Sunday, is an experienced quartet that plays both originals and standards and features ASU prof and tenor saxophonist Bryon Ruth, woodwind player Scott Zimmer, in-demand bassist Ted Sistrunk, and young-buck drummer Shaun Lowecki. Every Monday at 10 p.m., the Tempe-based Moseyhorse focuses on straight-ahead takes on jazz originals and showcases guitarist Jeff Libman, John Chapman on bass, tenor saxophonist Jeff Gutierrez, and percussionist Lowecki.

Seeing these serious jazz cats jam in the no-frills environment reminds us of some of our favorite listening experiences in New York City, where jazz is king. But unlike NYC, where you're forced to pay at least $10 for one 45-minute set of music, there's never, ever a cover charge at The Lost Leaf. That rules.

When we were young, we threw a temper tantrum when Mommy tried to force us to take those dreaded piano lessons. Now, as slightly more mature adults, we wanna cry out of jealously when we watch the amazing piano-based trios who gig every Tuesday night at Nello's in Old Town Scottsdale during their Moonshiner Jazz series. Jazz pianist Dan Delaney programs this weekly event, which has featured Rachel Eckroth, Jacob Koller, Nick Manson, and ASU jazz studies director Michael Kocour wowing the audience on the house piano. Many of the scene's best musicians, such as drummer Rob Moore, pianist Andy Margolis, and saxophonist Paul-Eirik Melhus have attended and have been asked to stop stuffing their faces with pizza to play a couple of tunes with the band. The three sets of music from 7 to 10 p.m. are always free.

This place will ruin your diet. But isn't the point of happy hour to get all nasty on some bar food and cheap beer after a frustrating day at work? We know that after a long day of calling people who don't want to talk to us, that's about all we're good for. And Mickey's is the perfect place to dig in while slumping on an old couch and watching the game. This place has turned bar food into a lowbrow art form. Our personal fave is the mozzarella and pesto cheese stix (yeah, spelled like that), though we don't mind the mountain of cheese fries, either. These and other selected munchies are half-price from 4 to 7 p.m. on weekdays, and so are well drinks, beer, and wine. Just make sure to clear out around 9, when the place starts to fill up with $30K millionaires.

If you read our feature story about Agwa de Bolivia Coca Leaf Liqueur ("Liquid Blow," Niki D'Andrea, June 26, 2008), a new liqueur made from Bolivian coca leaves, you may have tried to order it at your favorite local bar, only to find that it either didn't carry Agwa or was completely out of the tasty new booze. Thank goodness for Tempe rock club Big Fish Pub — not only does the bar stock the sweet green elixir, but it makes sure you know it: There's a big sign behind the bar that reads "NOW SERVING AGWA." And the bartenders are staying on top of things, too, concocting a variety of Agwa drink recipes to suit any taste, whether patrons crave something with a spicy bite (like an Agwa Mojito) or the equivalent of a liquid speedball (Agwa/Red Bull).

When it came time to round up our 10 best girlfriends for the long-awaited Sex and the City movie, we knew there was only one place to go afterward, for a round of cosmopolitans: Merc Bar. We love this Biltmore hotspot because it's not only dark and sexy but comfy — the perfect place to talk, sip, and ogle eye candy. We particularly love the cosmopolitans: classic pink tartness in an elegant glass. To quote Samantha Jones, "What could be more fabulous?"

Flashy, trendoid nightclubs have tried their best to Disney up the martini, essentially dumping the dessert of the day into a cocktail glass, splashing around some alcohol, and slapping the suffix "-tini" on it. The result is a concoction that looks like something a Kool-Aid-swilling, Skittle-chomping Muppet might have vomited.

The beauty of the martini is its crisp simplicity. Durant's, the unparalleled old school steakhouse and lounge, has understood this since its inception in 1950. Martinis here are as smooth as the red leather interior is swingingly swank. For the best that the classic martini can be, Durant's always feels like home.

We'd always been big fans of the margaritas at Padre's, but, as every drinker knows, man cannot live on margaritas alone. So we scanned the menu one night and found Padre's signature daiquiri — and we're pleased to say we've never looked back. Named for Ernest Hemingway, who was a daiquiri lush, Padre's version isn't the stiff slush that you might remember your great-aunt drinking in Acapulco. A simple mix of rum, fresh lime juice, and a touch of sugar, it's light, tart, and divine. Somewhere in Heaven, Papa is smiling.

Finding the best liquor selection is just a matter of geography. If you want a killer poured pint, visit an Irish bar. For wine, try a European bistro. So, it's no surprise that we discovered the best tequila selection at a top-rated Mexican restaurant. Chef Silvana Salcido Esparza's neighborhood cafe boasts more than 250 top-shelf, premium, and Super-Jalisco tequilas, from the classic and relatively inexpensive Jose Cuervo to rarer, extra-añejo (well-aged) varieties. Because the choices are so vast, the Barrio's bartenders will recommend a great pairing, much as a sommelier would help you select the perfect wine. And they won't even fault uninitiated gringos for looking for the worm — which is only found in mescal, a different type of liquor made from the agave plant.

The perfect mojito is light and refreshing, with a sweet overtone that masks the kick of the rum. That's why we love the Prickly Pear version at Fuego Bistro, in central Phoenix. The flavor is subtler than the mojito's standard lemony notes, and tastes a little like watermelon without the sickening sweetness that comes with most fruity drinks. Mojito purists might argue that the lack of mint and citrus disqualifies this one, but we say get with the times! Any place that carries 61 rums and 12 flavorings sure as hell knows what a mojito is. Do the math. That's over 700 possible combinations, and Fuego's mixologists know how to make 'em all.

This colorful hotspot — popular both with stylin' gay guys and ladies who lush — does a great job with every drink on the menu. Lychee mojito? Guavatini? Trust us: You can't go wrong. But our quaff of choice has become Ticoz's passion fruit sangria. Think Cabernet, passion fruit, pineapple, and orange, all in a lightly iced blend. Yum! And for just $7, we guarantee you're going to want more than one glass.

They've got nine very interesting margaritas on the menu at Cien Agaves — and though we are normally a sucker for things flavored with pomegranate or tinged with tamarind, we never exactly got around to trying any of the specialty versions here. Why? The house margarita — just $4 during happy hour and $7 the rest of the time — was so damn good that we pledged our eternal loyalty on the spot. The Jose Cuervo-based drink tastes just as good as the top-shelf margs we've had down the street. And unlike some lesser Mexican spots, Cien Agaves would never dream of using bottled sour mix instead of fresh squeezed lime. Perfecto.

Sonoran's commercial description calls Cordillera Blanca White Chocolate Ale "light, refreshing, and completely unique," and, for once, it's not just a bullshit company line. Chocolate stouts are pretty commonplace now, but this is the first time we've had a light, honey-colored chocolate beer at a local pub. We adore Cordillera Blanca because it's potent, but pale and sweet enough to drink any time of day. The ale has a thin white head that never seems to disappear and just the right balance of hoppiness, with a slight bittersweet aftertaste. If you've got a good nose for beer, Cordillera Blanca smells a bit like beer-infused brownies (what an awesome idea!) with hazelnut and vanilla notes. It's a deceptively light little brew, so be careful. At 4.7 percent alcohol, and with a body that's nearly as weightless as iced tea, it'd be pretty easy to get yourself in trouble with Sheriff Joe over this one.

So you won't drink anything not served in a crystal goblet. You sneer at the thought of second-growth Bordeaux. Well, wine snobs beware, there's a new kid in town — and he's knocking down your asinine assumptions about beer faster than you can say Gewurztraminer. Four Peaks' Hopsquatch Barleywine comes from a centuries-old English recipe that uses extra malt to produce a super-strength beer as potent as wine. After being aged for a year in stainless steel containers, the resulting brew has a sweet, rich flavor reminiscent of port or sherry. Yes, we know. A beer named after a mythical monster doesn't have the pedigree of a 40-year-old Cabernet. But if you can pull the grapevine out of your rear for one second and give Hopsquatch a chance, this three-time World Beer Cup award winner is a damn fine brew.

Mary Cope has tended bar at Yucca Tap Room for 22 years. A lot of her stories are too graphic (even for us) to print, but she does have one that qualifies as a classic.

A man walks into the bar and orders a drink from Ms. Cope. She can tell right away that he's three sheets to the wind. She asks him to leave; when he refuses, she escorts him out the back entrance.

A few minutes later, the man walks in the front entrance, makes eye contact with Cope, shakes his head and walks out. A few more moments pass and he walks through the other front entrance. This time he makes eye contact with Cope and says, "Do you work at every goddamn bar in Tempe?"

Don't get it? Swing by Yucca Tap Room and count the entrances . . . and get out more.