Best Of Phoenix® 2010 Winners
Bars & Clubs
Giligin's Bar is awesome for a lot of reasons, but there's one in particular: midget bar. This Old Town hot spot redefines the term mini-bar by placing a miniature version of a traditional bar to the right of the entrance — miniature chairs, little-person bartenders (a.k.a. Chuey the Rock 'n' Roll Midget and his Lilliputian friend named Giant). It's adorable and is a good home base for bar-hoppers. There's even a life-size statue of Captain Morgan at the entrance, which makes the perfect prop for a late-night, drunken photo shoot with the pair.
Best Karaoke with a Live Band
"I'm with the Band" on Mondays at Blue Martini Lounge
So you've had a couple of drinks and someone hands you a microphone while a canned instrumental track of your favorite '80s song starts to play. You're ready to tear it up, but it's hard to feel like a rock star when you're following a bouncing dot across a TV screen. If you really want to feel like a superstar (or just a glorified drunk), get onstage at Blue Martini Lounge on a Monday night, when local cover band The Instant Classics will back you up. This solid, seven-piece band has an extensive repertoire of songs, from Lady Ga Ga and Pat Benatar to Bob Seger and Snoop Dogg. They even have a keytar player with a mohawk, so you can rock that Flock of Seagulls song. The audience at Blue Martini is generally very enthusiastic and supportive, and they'll cheer for you whether you burp into the microphone or not. And if you get up there to croon Sinatra's "My Way" and find yourself frozen with stage fright, never fear — there are three singers in The Instant Classics who'll be happy to make it sound like you're just, uh, harmonizing.
Before its unveiling in January, Revolver Lounge was hyped as one of the hottest new clubs to hit Old Town. Thanks to an air-conditioning eff-up on opening night, that literally was the case. The sheer number of tanned and toned bodies crammed inside the Western-themed Stetson Drive swanketeria caused things to get steamy. (Guess everyone had to cowboy up.) While the snafu was fixed double-quick, the place hasn't cooled off since. Formerly home to the similarly stylish SIX, it's just as in vogue as its predecessor. Conceived by owner Steve McDonald as an upscale dancehall with a Scottsdale twist (hence, antique chandeliers sharing space with posh couches), it's had packed weekends all year, hosted a SMoCA shindig in the spring, and welcomed pop star Rhianna on her 22nd birthday. Revolver's proved so popular, in fact, that Southern-style Shotgun Betty's opened up down the block mere months later. Those copycat cowboys!
There are plenty of delish cocktails we could recommend at Sens, Johnny Chu's always-fabulous Asian tapas hot spot, and we're delighted that they've finally built a bigger bar to accommodate our cravings. But if you're looking for a new twist on an old favorite, we humbly suggest the Hot and Dirty. It's got all the dirty martini basics — olive juice, vodka, ice, and a big, fat olive — but it's also got a nifty lil' addition that will blow your mind. Namely, shochu, which is ostensibly the Japanese version of vodka. At Sens, they infuse this liquor with the hottest of Thai chilis, so you get both hot and cold in every sip. If you're not a fan of hot and spicy, don't order this drink. But if you're willing to give the heat a try, just ask the bartender: He or she'll be happy to work with you by adding more vodka and less shochu. They may push the envelope at Sens, but they're not sadists.
These days, everybody wants to prettify the martini with rose petals or gold flecks or God knows what else. But what the hell is a martini except a way to convey the maximum amount of gin? And that's why we've been increasingly enjoying martinis at bars that would never dream of listing a martini as a house specialty. At an old-school watering hole like downtown's Seamus McCaffrey's, the focus may be on the Scotch, but we guarantee they'll pour you a perfect martini should you order one: icy cold, slightly dirty, and with at least three shots of gin. God bless Seamus McCaffrey.
During our probably-too-long drinking career, the bloody Mary had ranked near the bottom of our desired beverage list, hovering somewhere around a Smoker's Phlegm (Jägermeister and mayonnaise) in the gross department. That's until we hit up Carly's Bistro during its weekend brunch and ordered the eatery's version of the drink, which includes V8, vodka, balsamic vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, pickle and olive juices, various spices, horseradish, and hot sauce. And, wow, Carly's version of this hair-of-the-dog remedy actually rocks, especially when a lovely bartender by the name of Ann makes the beverage.
OMG. We've slurped down some tasty adult beverages in our day, but nothing beats the red sangria at Rita's Kitchen, located in the upscale Camelback Inn Resort and Spa. Seriously. Though the food's not bad, the I'll-have-another-round cocktail infuses fresh apples, grapes, and an amazing blend of vanilla and cinnamon into a royalty-worthy elixir. If it's a nice day, take this wonderful drink outside to the resort's patio, gaze at Camelback Mountain, and watch the sun put on a Sonoran Desert light show at sunset.
La Bocca offers white sangria by the glass or pitcher. The bartenders use a special recipe of wine, spirits, spices and fresh fruit, and they're not telling what's in the mix — for good reason, too, because this is a secret that keeps you coming back to drink more. A glass of Blanco at La Bocca is so refreshing that you quickly realize ordering a glass was a mistake — and when the waiter returns, you'll be sure to order a pitcher. And here's another handy tip: That Blanco goes down really well with one of La Bocca's handcrafted pizzas.
We went to Caffe Italia in search of a quick dinner — maybe some spinach lasagna or a little penne in clam sauce — and ended up having our life changed. How did we make it this far in life in the desert without frozen sangria? This taste sensation is like a Slurpee for grownups: Sweet red wine steeped in fresh fruit and then spun into crushed ice and topped with still more fruit slices. There's a white wine sangria, too, called a Bellini, and on nights when we're not expected to drive or spell our names, we order both. The Bellini is tart and tangy, made with citrus fruits and what we swear must be a splash of peach liqueur. Whatever's in there, this is the best frozen sangria we've ever had.
Some places just cram mint leaves in the bottom of a glass, pour rum over them, and call it a mojito. But at MercBar, the mojito is a piece of real craftsmanship. Bartenders take their time crushing ice and mint leaves together in the glass before adding just the right balance of rum, sugar, lime juice, and soda. Some of the mint leaves float to the top of the glass, but most remain at the bottom, effectively infusing the drink with fresh mint flavor for the duration of its existence — which, given its refreshing tastiness, shouldn't be very long. In fact, the Merc Mojito may take longer to make than to drink, which may be why it costs more than the bar's acclaimed martinis. But when it's hot and sticky in the Valley, a minty fresh Merc Mojito is very cool indeed.
You know you've arrived at a good bar when the bartender doesn't know how to make the drink you've ordered but knocks it out of the park anyway. This recently happened to us at the Roadrunner Lounge. On previous visits to the seen-better-days establishment, we've received a perfect Jameson Manhattan with sweet vermouth, bitters, and a maraschino cherry. But then, a few months back, we ordered the drink from a male barkeep we'd never seen before, and he reacted as though we had just spoken Russian or an African tribal dialect. After shooting us a friendly yet blank stare, the man consulted a spiral-bound cocktail book and mixed the ingredients. Minutes later, Manhattan bliss hit our lips, and it was cheap — only $3!
We've always loved the patio at the Royal Palms, where you can sip champagne under the stars. But, lately, we've been pledging fidelity to the graceful lounge just inside the front door. Choose either a comfy couch or a seat at the curved bar, settle in with a craft cocktail, and let pianist Dwight Brewer sweep your heart away. This is the rare bar in town where you would not feel out of place in a little black dress. or even a big one; this is a lounge for adults, not club kids.
Looking for the piss-quality beer special of the night? It ain't happening at Taste of Tops, and that's completely fine by us. The casual bar and lounge, open for business since October 2009, is an incarnation of longtime fave Tops Liquors, which pretty much sells every beer ever. However, at Taste of Tops, you're not going to find Piss Lite or even Guinness and Newcastle. Instead, the bar offers an insane amount of bottled beer (more than 500 selections), so, like a vinyl nerd in a record shop, connoisseurs of fine beers can scavenge for their favorite brewski oddities and/or discover suds unknown to their palates. If you're famished, the place offers nibbles, or you can bring in takeout food from neighboring restaurants such as Thai Basil. Taste of Tops also showcases beer and wine tastings about 10 to 15 times a month, as well as hosts a monthly art opening.
Best Local Beer for a Novice Drinker
Papago Brewing Company's Orange Blossom
Some people say that beer is an acquired taste. We're inclined to agree, but only if they mean the same way breathing is. Beer is one of the greatest gifts mankind has bestowed upon himself, which is why its popularity has endured for millennia. But for you oddballs who feel that you need to slowly dip your toes in the serene and blissful pool that is beer, rather than diving in with your mouths wide open, there is Papago Brewing Company's Orange Blossom Beer. This is the perfect brew for the soulless prudes who "just aren't beer people" or "don't like the taste of beer" or "are in a 12-step program" (good for you!). From the first sip, Papago's Orange Blossom covers you in a blanket of creamy, orange-flavored goodness that will change your life forever. You're welcome.
As Phoenix's beer culture continues to grow in size and refinement, it seems more and more seasonal brews are hitting taps around town each season. SanTan Brewing's Winter Warmer is the gold standard. You can get the dark, malty brew only when the mercury dips into the 50s, but it's worth waiting all year for. Robust, thick, and sweet, like some of the best Belgian imports, this beer nevertheless has enough hoppiness to taste like an American microbrew. It's served chilled, of course, but it lives up to its name, causing a mild and pleasant warming sensation. The Winter Warmer is served in a fancy glass and paired with a gingersnap, which adds a little something. If having a cookie with your beer sounds silly to you, it's obvious you haven't had this one.
Best Place to Drink Pabst Blue Ribbon
Old Skool 50 Cent PBR Night
Best place to drink PBR that isn't behind the trash bin in an alley? Yes, it's true, we've got a different fave spot for sucking some PBR down — the Old Skool 50 Cent PBR Night at The Rogue Bar. This dive bar (turned hipster dance club turned rock venue) still knows how to treat its guests to a night of cheap consumption of booze. And, after reading this little blurb, you can impress fellow patrons with your knowledge of its origins: They call it "Blue Ribbon" because, according to its makers, the brew was named America's Best at the 1893 World's Fair in Chicago. And if the local ruffians aren't impressed by your useless knowledge, make amends by buying a round — it's not gonna break you.
Every day before 5 p.m., you can sample any wine on the list at Postino for just $5 a glass. And though we know plenty of establishments that offer similar weekday deals on house wines, Postino's offer really is the best for two reasons. One, the offer also is good on weekends, when the patio is a great spot for lunch, a mid-afternoon nosh, or early happy hour. Two, this wine list is incredibly well curated; there's not a dog on it. We've discovered many a new favorite simply by trusting our waiter. (Unlike at lesser places, Postino makes the waiters try everything on the list, so you really can trust their judgment.) And there's another great option for people who hate day drinking: On Mondays and Tuesdays after 8 p.m., you can get a bottle of any wine on the list, plus a giant board of Postino's signature bruschetta, for just $20.
Happy hour is happy hour is happy hour, right? At Fez, it's a celebration that takes place seven days a week, 4 to 6:30 p.m. and 10 p.m. to midnight. Its principal features are pretty standard: two-for-one well, draft, and bottled beer and signature margaritas, $3 house wine, and $6 small plates. Not so ordinary are Fez's insanely tasty daily food specials, served at the bar and yanked right from the daily menu, so we can have all our favorites for less than half-price as we savor our post-work cocktails. On the second and fourth Sundays of every month, happy hour gets transformed into a "Fez Foodies" party — with tasting plates and boutique drink specials — from 5 'til 8 p.m. Happy hour here also lets us try new Fez foods (which is how we discovered how much we love their garlic and rosemary fries). Who's not happy?
Orange trees and Japanese flower stands hugged a quiet two-lane road in the early years of South Phoenix. On that same road today, in a still-quiet lot across from a lone gas station, Amano Pizza Bistro is working to make some noise. Eric and Katy Bower opened their neighborhood bistro as a place where locals and foodies can chat over a glass or two of wine in the shadow of South Mountain. But enough relaxing: It's happy hour. Tuesday nights are half-off bottles of wine, Thursday nights are ladies nights (girls get $3 glasses of reds and whites), and on Sundays, kids eat free. If the Bowers keep it up, that lot may not be so quiet much longer.
A friend of ours is in love, and it's not with a girl or even with his cat. No, this guy is besotted with District, the swanky restaurant bar at the downtown Sheraton. He loves the long, curvy bar where he can cozy up to a tart Sage Julep (Maker's Mark and lemon juice with limes and tiny sage leaves), a house specialty and one of a long list of muddled drinks on the drink menu. Pretty much everything on the bar's food menu (we love the house-baked bread served with olive oil from Queen Creek) is locally grown — another reason to love District. But what our pal loves most is that all this stuff — the bread, the hooch, the tasty bar plates — is marked way down, twice a day: once in the late afternoon and again during reverse happy hour at night. In other words, our friend's true love is a cheap date.
We're prone to weeping because happy hour at Tuscan Oven doesn't take place 24 hours a day. True, it keeps us occupied and blissful Monday through Friday from 4 to 7 p.m., with $4 domestic and imported beers and all signature drinks and wines by the glass priced at $3 off. But why can't it just go on and on? Why must we wait 'til late afternoon for specials like fried green beans or calamari, both available for a wee fee of $5 from the bar's small-plate menu? Why can't the mixologists come home with us to blend Pama pomegranate liqueur and Bacardi with fresh lime, club soda, and raw sugar, so that we don't have to go to them for a happy hour special called a Pamajito, which has changed both our tiny lives and our idea of what makes a great happy hour?
What's a pub with no grub? Or a brewery with no . . . foodery? You know what we're getting at. The best part of happy hour is twofold: drinks and apps — and San Tan has 'em both. The place brews its own stuff; we're talking $3.75 for pints of pilsner, hefeweizen, IPA, stouts, and ale that'll wash down the $5 Buffalo wings, chips and dip, platter of sliders, and cilantro lime hummus. It may be one of the strongest pulses in the Southeast Valley, so check it out any day of the week from 3 to 7 p.m.
Happy hours should be crowded, loud, and a bit obnoxious. Your server should give you something to look at besides the rounds she's hoisting. The food should be delicious and, maybe, a little bad for you. Happy hour is where we gather to say, "Yeah, I sat and drilled away for The Man all day, too. But I could stick it to him if I wanted." As proof, we sit and drink pint after pint and eat our nachos when it's not even dark outside! What better place to participate in the renewal than Tempe landmark Four Peaks? The pints are handcrafted (as are the pizzas, with dough made fresh daily using Four Peak's ales). Kiltlifter is so frickin' good that it's sold at Trader Joe's, for Chrissakes. So what if there are no food specials during happy hour (from 2 until 6 and again from 10 until close)? Everything on the menu is reasonably priced and easy to share. People drive to this historic 1892 brick from all over for the artichoke dip. Most important, pints are $3, pitchers are $11. Happy, happy.
House of Tricks isn't perched on a hill or tucked up against a mountain. It's pretty much what it sounds like — an old house in downtown Tempe, rehabbed before rehabbing old houses was the thing to do in these parts, and it's so damn charming that we'll take the view of twinkly lit trees and a roaring outdoor fireplace over red rocks any day. We are also partial to Tricks' bag when it comes to cocktails, served by the aforementioned fireplace on a pretty deck. Belly up to the funky tiled bar and choose a local beer or an artisan cocktail. After a couple drinks, you'll swear you're in a big city — in a good way.
John Kunst knows a thing or two about stability. As owner and silver-fox sage of The Recovery Room for 26 years, Kunst has kept his neighborhood bar daytime-dependable for those seeking serenity before the sun goes down. A dark, cozy interior, blue-hued pool tables, and the ear of a friendly barkeep set the scene for patrons who can order their afternoon brew alongside a 99-cent lunch of a hamburger, two beef tacos, or chicken sandwich (all with a side of chips) every day from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. or with free bowls full of Kunst's homemade chili, served up on Sundays.
This cash-only gin joint offers no gimmicks and even less attitude. It's simply a place where drinkers go to drink — and maybe enjoy some pool or a $3.75 pizza, too. Though it's scruffy on the outside, the Wanderin's interior may strike first-timers as both unusually big and remarkably clean. But make no mistake. This bar isn't pretending to be a dive; it truly is one. Your first clue: Drink prices are inscribed on liquor bottles with a Sharpie. Your second: A phone number labeled "police" is helpfully taped to the mirror behind the bar, just in a case a fight should break out. The real kicker? Happy hour is from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. — and the drink special is $2 PBRs, which'll save you a whopping 25 cents per beer. Hey, when you start drinking as early in the morning as the Wanderin's regulars, those savings add up.
It's not a bar — it's a patio. At least, that's the technical term and how owner Alfonso Larriva got the city off his back after an 18-month renovation to allow smoking inside the Maverick Saloon. With slats on the windows allowing air to blow in and cigarette smoke to blow out, patrons can puff away with lively locals bellied up to the dark wooden bar, or they can relax on a corner couch listening to kick-ass country music on the juke, watching TV, or enjoying live entertainment Wednesday through Saturday. And with friendly barkeeps serving up drinks and grub costing less than a pack of cigs, the Maverick Saloon is one smokin' good time.
The black exterior and the Harleys parked out front say biker. The back patio's ironworks spelling out the word "welcome" atop an acoustic guitar says hipster. The ocean mural says . . . Well, that one's a head-scratcher. Since 2008, Chopper John's co-owner, John McCormick, has combined his love of motorcycles and music into a biker bar with a hipster sidecar. With Sunday jam sessions and an eclectic mix of local bands on Friday and Saturday nights, leather-clad riders and skinny-jean-wearing trendies may not always agree on the evening's sounds, but the drink specials and lively scene keep both groups coming together for another round.
Most bars' designated smoking areas seem like afterthoughts — small, sad patches of parking lot concrete with a butt bucket bought at Home Depot. Not at Amsterdam. Puffers can pick a martini from one of the bar's 10 menu pages, then stroll the swanky outdoor scene, lighting up alongside the here-to-be-seen set, bouncing to techno beats on the patio's dance floor, or lounging diva-like on overstuffed leather couches, taking long drags in spacious comfort and soft lighting. With an extra bar outside, Amsterdam's smoking patio is tailor-made for tokers, because the party never has to move indoors.
Café Istanbul's hookah lounge sits on the second floor above a Middle Eastern market, providing an exclusive feel for its many patrons. The furniture is stylish and comfortable — ornate, carved-wood tables and black leather couches lined with pillows. The décor feels authentically Middle Eastern, with colorful, cone-shaped lamps providing decorative light, Moroccan wall mirrors, and a plasma TV that's usually showing some Arabic soap opera or drama. Each hookah is high-quality, boasting a large glass base, sturdy wire hoses wrapped in vinyl, and clay tobacco bowls so deep they'll burn for hours. There are more than 50 flavors of hookah tobacco on the menu, ranging from traditional favorites like apple, strawberry, and pineapple to more unusual tastes like cardamom, guava, and rose. Servers here are attentive, constantly replacing the hookah coals and checking on customers' contentedness. Price-wise, Café Istanbul is competitive — hookahs with one flavor cost $10.95 to $13.95 each, which is less than what some other hookah lounges charge. And when it comes to atmosphere and ethnic flavor, Café Istanbul's got everybody in the Valley beat.
Shane Kennedy is crusty. We mean that in the nicest possible way. The fixture of CenPho nightlife and longtime Bikini Lounge DJ is the sort of rough-around-the-edges scenester Phoenix desperately needs. He doesn't wear tight pants, and he had his beard before it was cool, which makes him the sort of old-school, record-store-clerk-type hipster that's quickly disappearing from its natural habitat. Seemingly oblivious to trends, Kennedy is the sort of DJ we could imagine refusing to play a new bride's favorite song at her wedding if he found it just too insufferable to spin. He plays old stuff we love and old stuff we ought to love and will love once he exposes us to it.
Anthony Hart, a.k.a. DJ Hartbreaks, titled his first mixtape The Long Goodbye. If he's departing the scene, we hope it's a long goodbye. He's our favorite kind of young hipster DJ, the kind who has the impeccable taste necessary to back up the too-cool-for-school act. Spinning at The Lost Leaf and the Civic Space Jam, he's known to play everything from Common to Animal Collective to Florence and the Machine to Chromeo. It's all artfully blended in a style we don't call mash-up, given the stigma surrounding that term. But you'll hear several songs you love simultaneously, so that's cool. You can download his mixes for free or just wait for him to be the next Z-Trip and appear in a videogame.
To quote Nas on his 2002 track "Nothing Lasts Forever," everything will come to an end. When it comes to the Valley's volatile nightlife scene, that means your favorite club night — no matter how popular it may seem — will someday call it quits. Well, except for the Blunt Club, that is. The venerated hip-hop night launched in '02 and has stayed strong for eight effin' years, with no signs of pulling a Jam-Master Jay (RIP) anytime soon. Debuting at the Priceless Inn in Tempe, it began as a combination spoken-word/live-art event hosted by Bionic Jive mic man Emerg McVay and graf artist Adam "Dumperfoo" Dumper. Evolving into a DJ-based weekly and lyrical launching pad for local ciphers like Random and Drunken Immortals, it's not only outlasted the P.I. itself, but it's survived four location changes. The DJ duo of Pickster One and turntablist Element are packing the house at its latest home, Yucca Tap Room, offering a fly selection of underground and alternative hip-hop, reggae jams, and classic cuts. Much like the long-running career of KRS-One, there's no end in sight for the Blunt.
Valley drag diva Pandora's about as sassy as they come, whether she's flipping a Barbarella wig or singing "Don't go breaking a fart" while covering an Elton John and Kiki Dee duet. So it's not surprising that she's launched an outrageously funny and often cheesy drag comedy show, "The Follies," at Ice Pics Video Bar (formerly Nasty Habits). Performances take place on Saturday nights starting at 10 and include drag queens from all over the Valley, and various theme show nights like "knights," "disco," and Spam-A-Little, a musical based on Monty Python and the Holy Grail. But whatever Pandora's serving up, it's sure to be a wallop of laughs, right down to the lipstick-smeared feather boas.
For casual gay nightlife — we're not talking pumped-up leather bars or bumping discotheques here — Bar 1 is a chill hang that still knows how to have fun. The bar's interior is clean and candlelit, with a fireplace, sofas, and a couple of pool tables that are in tip-top condition. The outside patio is a cozy, tree-lined, and dimly lit space that feels private but still party-ready, thanks to a window that opens up to the bar inside. Don't look for a raging scene at Bar 1. Instead, look for a quiet — you know, a place where can still use your (gasp!) indoor voice — friendly place to unwind and socialize in a low-pressure setting.
The unassuming façade of the Cash Inn belies the shenanigans that occur behind its doors. Bar-goers are often found line dancing, shooting pool, karaoke-ing and throwing darts, all to the beat of what can best be described as a hodgepodge playlist. We can be even more specific and give them the Best Dancing Lesbian Bar, because seriously, these chicks can dance. And they give free lessons on their enormous dance floors every Thursday at 7 p.m. Oh, you'd rather watch? No big deal — the surrounding bunches of tables and chairs provide quite the view.
Hope you've saved your pennies. If it's Wednesday and you're a lady, it looks like your second glass of wine (and every glass afterward) is just one cent. This may wreak havoc on Roka Akor's cash register on a weekly basis, but we're not concerned. We're too busy marveling at the restaurant's specialty ice cubes and Japanese décor. Also up for grabs are specials on cocktails and snacks and sushi. And keep an eye out this fall — the super-trendy Roka Akor will start Ladies' Shochu Nights, which will feature drinks with Fuji Apple Shochu. Hope they stick to that penny thing.
Best Ladies Fight
Stripper Fight League at Cheetahs Gentleman's Club
Putting women in cages may sound oppressive, but give them some boxing gloves and headgear and you've got a moneymaker. Several strip clubs around town host some form of stripper fights, but Cheetahs was the first and remains the most popular. Around 11:30 p.m., dancers leave the stages and the DJ turns the music off. House lights shine down on the cage to spotlight the battling dancers. The ladies at Cheetahs are among the more attractive exotic dancers in town, with largely unscarred bodies and mostly real breasts. Any bruises on them likely come from the cage fights, because, despite wearing little more than g-strings and fight gear, these dancers throw down hard. They're not trained in mixed martial arts or anything, but their matches are more street fight than catfight. They do throw punches and kicks, but they spend a decent amount of time wrestling around on the ground, too — much to the delight of the screaming coed audience. There are anywhere from two to five fights every week, and fights last for three rounds (two minutes each). The show's always entertaining, but the more money patrons throw in the cage, the better the fights tend to be.
Don't let his name fool you. Philthy Phil may have a sleazy moniker, but the owner and bartender of this neighborhood good-times dive bar is straight-up good people. An orphan from Detroit, Phil grew up the hard way. And while there's a scrappiness about him (he 86s anyone making trouble, especially in defense of the ladies who are drinking at his bar), his gracious way of making his lively mix of patrons feel welcome is infectious, carrying over to his friendly staff. With a hard pour, a soft spot for the downtrodden, and a reputation for joining in on the fun, Philthy Phil is your new best friend behind the bar.
Screw the sprawling, network-themed sports bars where nobody knows your name. Tucked behind a Circle K just off 32nd Street north of Thomas Road, The Ox Sports Bar is a cozy hideout with a colorful neighborhood crew that eagerly accepts new fans. Join the cheering section for dart tournaments, pair with new friends for a pool match or a game-time holler-fest at one of the high-def TV screens, hold 'em Texas-style on Sundays, or croon to the crowd at nightly karaoke events. With plenty of cheap booze, The Ox Sports Bar is chummy good fun.
There's a lot missing from downtown Phoenix, but there's no shortage of places to watch the game if you can't nab tickets (or would rather nurse an all-too-frequent loss from the comfort of a barstool). But Coach & Willie's is not your typical sports bar. It's decked out in flat-screens — no need to worry about the tall guy with the big head sitting in front — and throws the best pre- and post-game parties of any joint in town. Their remedy for a post-Artest-rebound breakdown? A dozen different import and domestic beers are on tap, and these bartenders are known to pour a strong cocktail.
If we ever had the opportunity to design our dream sports bar, chances are it would probably wind up looking just like Gallagher's. The amenities are plentiful, including off-track betting windows, arcade games, 14 ales and lagers on tap, and a posh outdoor patio with a sparkling waterfall and splendorous views of South Mountain (particularly at sunset). Speaking of getting an eyeful, more than 25 TVs have been conveniently placed at every conceivable viewing angle, with everything from bowling to basketball being broadcast. Complementing this smorgasbord of sporting exploits, the menu boasts a rich repast of enticing eats, including such stomach satisfiers as chicken queso baked potatoes and a bevy of barbecued ribs and other succulent smoked meats, all of which are served by comely 20-something waitresses.
Keith Prescott's a man of many passions, and chief among them is soccer. Ask the UK native about soccer and you'll hear tales of his tenure with the Liverpool Football Club, as well as his experience attending the 1966 World Cup (when Britannia ruled the roost). Along with his wife, Marianne Hansen, the 63-year-old has utilized his footie fanaticism to transform their North Phoenix neighborhood bar into a preferred hangout for others who are passionate for the pitch. Match-ups from around the world are featured on the bar's tellies and dozens of jersey-clad types packed the place during this year's World Cup. Thing is, it's also a great joint in which to witness every other kind of televised athletic endeavor. Being proper Europeans, Prescott and Hansen also know a thing or three about beer and stock more than 40 bottled imported and domestic brands, with 16 brews available on draught (including Boddington's, Strongbow, and Dundee).
Yes, this is a chain eatery, but hear us out: The Yard House, located in Westgate City Center, is the shiz. For one, due to its killer proximity to University of Phoenix Stadium and Jobing.com Arena, the place goes off pre- and post-game, whether it's for the Cards, 'Yotes, or the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament. Plus the food — which isn't just a plate full of microwaved mess — rocks, especially the organic tomato bisque soup and the seared ahi steak sandwich.
This rough-around-the-edges spot in a ubiquitous Gilbert strip mall near Val Vista Drive may turn off clean-cut suburbanites. But those who are willing to branch out can definitely enjoy this place that seems to attract folks who like sports, fried food, and metal (live bands play on the weekends). Along with a full menu, including burgers that are off the chain, Crabby's offers some craft beers as well as all sorts of hard liquor, all of which can be enjoyed while watching the big game on the tube. Happy hour goes off each day from 11 a.m. to 7 p.m.
It takes more than a few cool TVs to make a sports bar awesome, which is something the folks at the Baseline Sports Bar in Tempe seem to understand more than most. Sure, the bar has enough TVs to satisfy your average tech geek, but it's the food and beer that make the Baseline Sports Bar stand out. We recommend the AJ's quesadilla — not your standard quesadilla, and made with enough garlic in it to keep Dracula at bay.
This bar that behaves like a nightclub during certain evenings isn't exactly the prototypical sports hang. (For example, it's not unusual to see a blond vixen in platforms drinking a blowjob shot at the circular bar.) But even when it's all Scottsdaled out, the atmosphere provides an interesting backdrop to watching sports on one of the venue's flat-screens.And when spring training is in full swing, the spacious patio is a sweet place to hang before walking the mile to Scottsdale Stadium to catch the San Francisco Giants.
There's felt as far as the eye can see at BullShooters, as this pool hall is in a building the size of a Walgreens and contains 42 tables. That isn't the only way in which it towers over the competition. Twenty-six TVs are mounted throughout, there are 12 electronic dartboards on the premises, and a full bar and kitchen has 11 drafts available. What about the pool? The tables are well maintained (no wobbling here) and there's nary a warped stick. Coin games go for 75 cents, with hourly rentals starting at $2 per person, per table on weekdays from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m., with prices thereafter varying depending on the day. Get racking.
Trivia nights at bars are opportunities to prove to your friends that you're good at one of two things: drinking or trivia. Doc & Eddy's offers the chance to do both in fine fashion. Thursday nights at Doc & Eddy's is like Jeopardy! for drunks, complete with a pushy host who doesn't hesitate to toss contestants out for looking up answers on their cell phones. The beer is cheap, but if you win at trivia it doesn't matter, because you get a $50 bar tab, which is more than enough to successfully get your drink on during the thirstiest of Thursdays.
It's relatively new, but Robbie Fox's is already a classic. Stepping in, we'd swear we were still on that semester abroad program — funny, the pubs in Ireland, England, and Scotland were filled with obnoxious American students, too. The ambiance is just the same, save the smell of cigarette smoke, and when the lights came on at 2 a.m., both the crowd and the place looked authentically wrung-out, just the way we like our pub-crawling.
You don't have to be fan of the Sooner State to love JT's Bar & Grill — but a little affection for Oklahoma certainly helps. There's OU paraphernalia everywhere — and, on one wall, an album cover from Rodgers & Hammerstein's Oklahoma! But even if you couldn't care less about Okies, we guarantee you'll love JT's, simply because this tiny Arcadia watering hole is a true original. There's classic rock and country on the jukebox, Christmas lights twinkling on the ceiling, and a friendly neighborhood vibe. And did we mention the food? The cook whips up simple pub grub behind the bar, and — like everything about this great little spot — it's surprisingly, unusually good.
It's been just shy of two years since this cool downtown Phoenix lounge opened, yet we can't remember what our lives were like before we had such a comfy, warmhearted spot to stop for a drink. SideBar owner Josh Parry wanted to create a landmark cocktail lounge that's both a hot neighborhood gathering place and a cozy everyone-knows-your-name throwback to clubs of yesteryear. He's done it!Did we mention the cocktail menu? Smashing. We love the White Rabbit, an update on the Horchata martini that's at the top of our list of faves. SideBar's muddled drinks are made with fresh, homegrown ingredients, so we make sure to get there early to order one (or three!), because once the fresh stuff's gone, it's gone.
The ceilings are low, the floors are dusty, the patio is littered with cigarette butts, and there are only four beers are on tap. Suffice it to say this ramshackle roadhouse located along a lonely stretch of Buckeye Road is the kinda place only a mother could love.It's not without its charms, however, as kitsch and character are in abundance in the form of the vintage RC Cola cooler behind the bar or the antique beer signs sharing wall space with photos of John Wayne and former Arizona Governor Rose Mofford. Equally quaint and colorful is the clientele of neighborhood folk, warehouse workers, and other hardscrabble imbibers who've been partaking in the place since it opened in 1972. They're a quirky bunch (one gentleman prefers his brews served over ice in a tall plastic cup mixed with Tapatio hot sauce and salt), and they've left their mark over the years in the form of autographed dollar bills stapled to the ceiling. They don't complain much, however, as a sign nailed to the wall requests "No Sniveling" from patrons.
As much as we're fans of comedian Ed Helms, our blood kinda boiled years ago when the co-star of TV's The Office cracked on one of our favorite Valley bars. See, in 2004, the bespectacled actor visited this notorious biker bar while reporting for The Daily Show about a then-merely-proposed Arizona law permitting guns to be carried in drinking establishments. Helms insulted the manhood of Steel Horse's Harley-loving patrons and staff during the segment, getting himself run off the property in humorous fashion. Though it was just a comedy bit, the fact that the proprietors were willing to get joshed on basic cable is just one reason to love the place. Here's another: Major drink discounts are on tap nearly every evening, ranging from $1 PBRs on Thursdays to $1.50 you-call-its on weekends. Rockabilly faves Pat Roberts and the Heymakers also have a monthly gig here, and pool games are only 50 cents. Plus, board game night is held on Mondays, enabling the amusing chance of playing Battleship or Candy Land against some tough-looking easy rider. Make sure to lose, lest you wanna get 86'd like Ed.
Exit 7 is a laid-back neighborhood bar that draws a motley crowd, has a weekend DJ that spins a variety of music, including old-school rock and hip-hop, and offers the best drink specials ever. We're talking 50-cent Coronas on Thursdays and $1 drinks on Friday and Saturday until 11 p.m. with a $7 cover for guys and $5 for the ladies. On Saturday, it's $7 for everyone. Bring your friends for a little dancing, a little drinking, and a whole lot of craziness. You can even do a little dart-flinging or cue up your balls at the bar's pool tables.
Yes, this place has wings (chicken) and rings (onion) but the beer is the real draw here. Unlike most Southeast Valley bars content to offer Miller, Coors, and Bud, BWR always brings in something we've never tried before — we could drop names, but they'd surely be obsolete well before this went to print. The bartenders are as knowledgeable and friendly as you'll find anywhere in town and really seem to want to pair you with a beer you'll love. On top of that, the atmosphere is wonderful, with a nice assortment of regulars and just enough TVs to offer a distraction if you want one, but not so many that you're overwhelmed if you're not. Trust us, that is a fine line to walk.
Tempe's Boulders on Broadway feels like a ski lodge in the summer: floored with brick, walled with wood, and packed with mountain bikes from neighborhood drinkers who've pedaled to the bar to enjoy the atmosphere. The hulking two-story structure has plenty of room for everyone, but most of the action happens in the small-ish bar area, which tends to fill up and feel intimate. The pub draws a diverse clientele — it seems like the sort of place students might run into their professors — and there's usually a game on, though the place doesn't feel like a sports bar. The drink selection is great, the service is stellar, and there always seems to be someone interesting to talk to if you're in the mood to mingle. If there's something else you're looking for in a great neighborhood bar, you're pickier than we are.
TT Roadhouse likes to present itself as a quasi-biker bar, but it's far from it. Actually, despite the posturing (this is Scottsdale, after all), it has more the feel of a British pub than anything. Dimly lit, lined with heavy wood, and staffed by bartenders who are wary of folks they don't know, it's everything a neighborhood bar should be. TT has pool, darts, and a solid jukebox, but the conversation you'll find bellied up to the cramped but comfortable bar is the real draw. TT's been hipstering it up with DJs lately — and though we like whom they've got spinning, we still prefer it quiet and without a line for drinks.
The name Long Wong's is legendary, and the wings have little to do with why. The old location on Mill Avenue birthed some of the state's biggest and best bands, including the Gin Blossoms and The Refreshments. Okay, so the new Long Wong's at the Firehouse isn't on the old strip. And, sure, though the owners are the same, the people booking shows are different. There's still some magic in this venue, which claims a piece of the bulldozed bar's history and is committed to the credo that "Arizona still produces some of the best music in the entire US of A." We like some of the new traditions — like the "Fire Drill," during which any drink at the bar is $1 when a fire truck drives by with its lights on — and we're confident the joint will grow more homey as it ages.
In the mid- to late '90s, the Nile Theatre in Mesa was the shiznit. The indie concert venue on Main Street was one of the places for local music fans. The biggest names in rock, punk, hardcore, and hip-hop hit up the Nile, and locals bands aplenty performed in the basement. Unfortunately, the Nile was shut down in 2002 after issues with the city of Mesa. Then, in January, employees of indie concert promoter the Mantooth Group just happened to ride by the then-vacant building as the rental agent was putting a sign up. They spent the next month restoring the basement and re-opened it as theUnderground. In late July, the Nile Theatre followed. And all was right with the world.
What would Jesus do at Padre's? Probably conjure up some cod for the all-you-can-eat Friday fish fry or transform the club soda into a crisp chardonnay. All blasphemy aside, we suspect J.C. could have an almighty good time at this neighborhood bar. After all, it's named after an Irish Catholic priest, and one of the Lord's quotes ("Go and sin no more") graces the menu. Then again, the Messiah might not cotton to all the sinful shenanigans available here, including six OTB windows and an abundance of cheap liquor. It's the sort of divine dilemma that's best discussed over a few beers.
It wouldn't surprise us one bit if Saturday Night Fever's Tony Manero somehow strutted his way off the silver screen and into Disco, white suit and all. That's because the proprietors of this dapper danceteria dropped some major bank in re-creating their own version of the legendary illuminated dance floor that John Travolta ambled across with aplomb in the 1977 disco flick. Measuring 10 feet by 20 feet and powered by a rainbow of pressure-sensitive LEDs, it looks as if it were lifted directly from the Odyssey 2001 (the film's fictional NYC discotheque). It's also completely interactive, responding to dance steps with explosions of color. Plus, Disco's DJs are known to throw a few songs by The Bee Gees and The Trammps into the mix between Top 40 tracks. Hope you can remember how to do "The Hustle."
Best Place to Practice for American Idol
Lucky Break at Lone Butte Casino
Got the pipes to be the next Kelly Clarkson or Lee DeWyze? Your vocal destiny awaits at Lone Butte Casino's Lucky Break singing competition, now in its fourth season. Savvy singers compete each week to advance to the grand finale, where one winner will receive $10,000 and a trip for two to Nashville or Las Vegas for a chance to audition for major record executives. Soloists who soar through the tryouts will find themselves in front of a panel of (thankfully) un-Simon-like judges for a show taping at the casino's Cascades Lounge, where their crooning conclusions are broadcast on KPHO every Saturday night.
This cheery CenPho sports bar is almost always packed with armchair athletes, people who want to watch the game on the place's 31 (count 'em!) TVs, eat a burger, and maybe play some trivia. But around 10 on Tuesday and Saturday nights, a different kind of group shows up en masse: the karaoke crowd. And hot damn! It's fun to watch. The singers are good but not too good, and (on Tuesdays at least) it's not hard to get a seat and a chance at the mic, should you be so inclined. Best of all: The peeps running this show are pros at subtly turning down the mic for singers who can't quite, um, sing. Hazelwoods is nice that way, both to the unfortunate warblers and our grateful ears.
What is box karaoke, you ask? Imagine you and your circle of friends had a private room for laying down some Journey or screaming out some Bowie. Now imagine a waitress on hand to bring you beer continuously. This, friends, is the box karaoke experience. Sure, you can go to those fancy karaoke boxes in Scottsdale, but the one at Korean BBQ in Mesa is far cheaper and available for reservations. Should you feel peckish between sets of Springsteen, step out of the box and grab a menu.
Glitz is what Scottsdale does best, so we'd understand if you were a little skeptical of anything cowboy-style in Old Town. The Rusty Spur quickly puts to rest any fears you might have about authenticity. For starters, if Rusty Spur were the nightclub equivalent of a dude ranch, it'd probably start by expanding to have enough space to actually accommodate the huge weekend crowds, which sometimes squeeze in shoulder to shoulder and buckle to buckle. Nope. For better or worse, the tiny storefront that used to house a bank (the vault is still there, as we understand it) is all they've got. "Scottsdale's Last Real Cowboy Bar" has been open as a cafe since 1951 and got a liquor license in 1958. It's advertised as the oldest saloon in Scottsdale (Coach House, opened in 1959, makes a similar claim), and it's a place you can still hear stories of when cowboys offered their horses beer and reserved the liquor for themselves — just like the Willie Nelson song says. The bar still has live music seven nights a week including four weekly sets by the stellar Psychobilly Rodeo Band.
Yep, that's a live bull. And, yep, that cowboy is about to ride him. Every Wednesday and Friday, that cowboy has eight seconds, but you have as long as you like to check out the house band, take a free dance lesson, or chomp on catfish and fries (but don't forget the $10 all-you-can-eat BBQ). More than 50 years ago, the Buffalo Chip was just was a feed-and-bait shop on the way to Horseshoe and Bartlett lakes. Today, the 6,000-square-foot saloon sits on five acres. The amateurs are in the bullpen on Wednesdays and the pros hit the saddle on Fridays. There's never a shortage of true cowboys and cowgirls around — and there's enough dust kicked up in the place that you might be able to get away with a few things.
Rogue West is a rockabilly fan's wet dream come true. The sleazy yet stylish West Valley punk dive has everything y'all could want in a bar, including $1 cans of cheapo beer, Sailor Jerry and skateboard artwork decorating the place, Bettie Page look-alikes as regulars, and free pool on two tables. Oh, and local rockabilly and psychobilly bands — including such scene veterans as Anthony Vincent and the Rhythm Dragons, Buried in Red, The Limit Club, and Koffin Kats — also perform every weekend, busting out with some upright bass and maybe even a few sneers. German act The Booze Bombs stop by once every few years, as well. And though he's more of a roots artist than a 'billy boy, Windy City singer-songwriter Jake La Botz is an occasional guest. So what are you waiting for, daddy-o? Hop in your hot rod and head on down.
When a new Long Wong's and the old Sail Inn reopened within months of each other in Tempe, it was the more famous wing-serving club that got all the ink. But thus far, it's Sail Inn that has had a real impact on the city's live music scene. The redecorated and revitalized club books great acts, but it's the building itself that really excites us. Situated in a perfect spot just a few blocks off Mill — close enough for pre-gaming or post-show drinks but far enough to make parking relatively easy — it's a large and nicely appointed club with a mix of indoor and outdoor seating and two stages. The larger outdoor area is especially great and fills an important niche as an outdoor club for shows not quite big enough for the nearby Marquee but too large for other area clubs.
At first blush, Russ Winn doesn't seem like the kinda person you'd expect to find running a metal venue. He's in his late 70s, is a former military man, and an easy-listening lover, to boot. Sit a spell with the septuagenarian, however, and you'll gain insight into how UB's owner is more than suited for the job: Winn's open-minded, possessing the patience of Job, a substantial sense of humor, and an eagerness to meet new people (even if said individuals look like rejects from a Kerrang! cover shoot). Best of all, he's tone-deaf. Two decades of Air Force service might've cost Russ some hearing, but it also equipped him to endure the sludgy sonic booms supplied by the bombastic bands booked at his Mesa bar and grill. Thanks to Tony Toledo and his militaristic-sounding promotions company, Mosh Pit Army, UB's has become a hot spot for heavy metal, hard rock, and even darker acts, both local and national. Names like Mushroomhead, Testament, Powerman 5000, and Goatwhore have played the place, and there's no sign of the metal mayhem ceasing anytime soon. Not that Russ is a fan of any of these heavy hitters, particularly practitioners of Cookie Monster-style vocals. "I don't get much outta the music because I like songs where you can hear the lyrics," he says. "It sounds like they're just clearing their throats."
For a while, we were torn up when the weekly Yacht Rock music series (which featured DJs spinning the smooth sounds of Steely Dan and the Doobie Brothers) permanently set sail. But then we discovered Bad Sneakers, a Steely Dan and Tower of Power cover band that, in a way, trumps those Yacht Rock days. The group, which tops out at 12 members when they're playing ToP tunes, features a funky five-piece horn section, three vocalists, guitar, bass, and keys. And, man, do these cats kill some white-boy rock/soul/funk, especially on Steely Dan favorites such as "Peg" and Tower of Power jams "Diggin' on James Brown" and "So Very Hard to Go." You can catch Bad Sneakers at places like The Rhythm Room or Warren's Jazz Bistro in Gilbert.
Scott Blackwell is almost a dead ringer for Tom Petty — from his lanky frame and stringy blond locks to his hangdog countenance and penchant for top hats. The similarities extend past outward appearances, as the 47-year-old Phoenician can not only strum his Telecaster just like Petty, but can also sing "Free Fallin'" and "You Don't Know How It Feels" in an equally folksy fashion. This musical mimicry has paid off well, as he and the other members of Petty tribute act Breakdown have landed regular gigs at Skye. They aren't the only faux superstars taking the stage at the Peoria performance venue and supper club, as it hosts tribute and cover bands aplenty. The sincerest form of flattery is on display almost every weekend inside the posh Platinum Room, with artists aping the moves and music of some of the world's most famous rock and pop acts, ranging from ABBA to Zeppelin. You can catch copycat crooner Todd Luxton doing his best Elvis impersonation on some Fridays, followed by a spectacular send-up of David Bowie the next night. Or maybe partake in back-to-back gigs from Denver's Under a Blood Red Sky (U2, duh) and Take It to the Limit (The Eagles). Long live mock 'n' roll, baby.
Wrestlemania 26 was a tough act to follow — the WWE's premier event drew 72,219 fans to the University of Phoenix stadium, beating even the Super Bowl in attendance. But later that night, a Beatle managed to do it, also putting on the single best arena show of the year. Sir Paul McCartney had nearly 50 years of hits to draw from but also dug deep into his catalog, much to the delight of the many Macca-obsessive fans on hand to watch the 67-year-old kick off his tour. There were many memorable moments, but the thing we'll always remember is the beautiful black-and-white photos of saguaro cactus that ran on the backdrop during "The Long and Winding Road." The photos were taken around McCartney's ranch in Tucson, where his late wife Linda passed away from cancer. Another striking moment was "Something," which McCartney dedicated to George Harrison, strumming the chords on a ukulele given to him by his former bandmate. Those extra-special touches made for an incredible evening and even managed to top the steroid-and-pyrotechnic-fueled spectacle next door.
We've said it before and we'll say it again: Phoenix's historic Orpheum Theatre is used far too infrequently for concerts. Okay, so the city-owned theater's vending requirements make the booze lines way too long for concert promoters to make any real money staging rock shows there. When it actually happens, it's magical. Such was the case with Wilco frontman Jeff Tweedy's December solo show at the theater. Playing through much of his band's catalog while tossing in a few covers and rarities, Tweedy mesmerized us all the way through an amp-less and acoustic closing number that relied on the theater's stellar acoustics. Tweedy and his band play Phoenix far too infrequently, but this show, supposedly an excuse to visit his sister's family, more than made up for it.
The large outdoor stage at the new and improved Sail Inn in Tempe was perfect for Tucson's Sergio Mendoza y la Orkesta — not just because a big crowd turned up for his Saturday show in March, but because a large stage is needed to contain the classic Latin big band. Leader Mendoza, his right-hand man, Salvador Duran, and the eight other guys in the group are too big — and too good — to be playing shows this size for long. Witnessing the band's flavorful mambo in person, with such intimacy, was magical, especially as the snappily dressed crowd took in a performance by fire dancers in the venue's parking lot.
Why do we miss Chyro Arts? One, the proximity of a music venue to Scottsdale's wonderful British Open Pub. Two, those comfy couches lining the walls. Three, shows like Titus Andronicus' appearance in March. Fresh off stellar reviews from Pitchfork and other taste-making blogs, the hotly tipped New Jersey lo-fi folk-punk act came in for a Monday-night show, playing most of their newest record, The Monitor, which may or may not be a concept album about the Civil War. For a band with obvious punk influences, Titus managed to keep a steady pace throughout the show, and didn't do anything showy. It made for a memorable evening at the now-closed venue.
YOBS, as the cool kids call it, hosts anything that's way-off-the-radar underground. We're talking riot grrrl from Austin, acoustic acts from the Bay Area, and an earplug-worthy, dark-metal ensemble called Stress Ape. The home's residents, including local drummer/record store employee/music snob John Ryan Nelson, book shows for out-of-towners, and the bills usually include locals such as H.O.A., Ovariesy (pronounced "over-easy"), and French Quarter.
Best Place to Get Up Close and Personal with the Band
Palo Verde Lounge
The beloved PV has long been known by punkers and other scuzz-rock fans as one of the best rocker-friendly drinking dives in the Valley. And when no-BS owner Chuck unplugs the jukebox, pushes the pool table to the back of the tiny bar, sets up a cheap PA, and starts slinging $2 PBRs, the "Dirty Verde" becomes the next best thing to a rock 'n' roll house party. Packed tight and inches away from the band, fans shake along to the music and hold their beers high, while loud-ass amps rattle their bodies and the singer's sweat flies in their faces.
The Slurp, located in a hush-hush warehouse around McClintock and University drives, is a beautiful wreck: pieces of debris all over the concrete floor, a pile of music gear and random junk in one corner, and, leaning against one wall, 10-foot-high pieces of particle board painted with, well, let's just say interesting designs. Combine that with out-of-town bands playing hardcore, screamo, black metal, or anything that insinuates impending death, and dark-music fans have a pretty rad place to publicly hate their lives. You can even climb a dodgy ladder to an even dodgier perch for an elevated view of acts such as Portland's Transient, Florida's Dark Castle, locals like The Tightholes or Pigeon Religion, or the Navajo Nation-based Sinking in Shit.
Six years ago, longtime downtowners Bradford and Andy McPants started a weekly underground DJ night at Bikini Lounge. They had no way of knowing the beast they were creating. After various incarnations and resident DJs, today's artsy dance party is 602'sdays, and you're not going to find anything else like it in the Valley. Folks like Djentrification, Meaty Ogre, and Salchi von Papi spin and mash up sonic oddities such as rare Afrobeat, Turkish psych, and Thai funk. Throughout the year, the shindig will go thematic, meaning you'll have to pick out the confetti from your PBR pitcher during Mardi Gras or duck from the Super Soaker-aided, fake-blood attack around Halloween.
Some clubs have bikini-clad girls dancing on pedestals. Others book touring DJs who are "big in London." And most are decked out with mirrored walls and flashing lights. But none of that guarantees a great dance night. That's why we love Ransom, on Fridays at Philthy Phil's. You won't see any of those cheap tricks at this authentic dive bar. And with a teeny dance floor, it only takes about 10 people to fill it — you'll never feel alone or awkward.
Name a crappier feeling than this: The bar's closing and you're 12 fluid ounces away from being slightly more than "just buzzed." One solution is to spend a night drinking brewskis at The Lost Leaf. Then, when you're about to get booted after last call, order a bottle/multiple receptacles of beer, keep it capped, get home safely, and enjoy the beverage at home. The downtown spot, open 365 days a year, has a license that allows takeout beer purchases — so, as long as you don't do something stupid, like shotgun a Chimay in The Lost Leaf's front yard, you'll be all good.
Word from the wise: It'd be a shrewd move to become a fan of The Quincy on Facebook or to start following the underground venue's tweets. That's the only way to find when the next over-the-top after-hours affair is happening at The "Q." Hidden in a ramshackle strip mall down the street from Rainbow Donuts, it functions as the studio and gallery of funky photographer Quincy Ross. But it transforms into a secretive seraglio of sinful fun on weekend nights, most of which don't even get going until after midnight. But if you're eager to attend the next big bash, be warned: Getting inside typically involves traipsing down a pitch-black alley leading to the back door. Better download that flashlight app for your iPhone.
Our qualifications for "Best Hangover Breakfast" have more to do with the comfort of our surroundings than the actual food on the plate. Let's face it: Those first few bites aren't going to be pretty, no matter what you're eating. The food just needs to be greasy. And the lighting had better be dim, the booth high-backed, and the waitress kind. Harlow's fits the bill on all accounts. We're not recommending you drink yourself sick (or even silly), but if you do, we have just the morning-after spot for you.
Rough night? We've got the cure. The Meadows got a lot of press this year when Tiger Woods booked a suite there in an effort to kick his lady lust — or, at least, execute a hollow gesture to please his sponsors and avoid a $100 million divorce settlement. No word on whether the program worked for Tiger (the nearest Perkins restaurant is in Bullhead City, so we suggest you ask around there), but he probably had a nice stay at this dude ranch-like clinic that advertises its "desert views and clear skies." In addition to helping people with a poontang problem, they'll treat your addictions to alcohol, drugs, gambling, and — get this — work. Sounds corny, sure, but their programs draw well, so The Meadows has served as a quiet place for Kate Moss, Mike Tyson, and Whitney Houston to battle their demons. As for us, we're not ready to give up booze, pills, or sex just yet, but we'd still consider a weekend retreat. Who knows what the relapse rate is, but The Meadows seems to be a great place to spot a celebrity — provided you don't mind don't listening to a dude in a cable-knit turtleneck yammer on about how you're "destroying everyone and everything you love." And, hey, you might just get the chance to have sex with Tiger Woods.
Though James Bond would hate the Three Wise Men shot at Rips, the drink might be as close as you get to having the balls of the original international man of mystery. The girl behind the bar at Rips will pour hefty amounts of Crown Royal, Jose Cuervo, and Jack Daniel's — the three international wise men — into a sizable tumbler. Then she'll laugh at you when you try to take it all at once. It's known as a "catch up with your friends," for any latecomer to happy hour, or a "pre-Obscura," to be consumed before the weekly Saturday-night dance party. Trust us, getting up the courage it takes to dance like a true hipster at Obscura just might be worth the drink's $9 price.
The electricity bill at Kat's probably doesn't tax the wallets of its proprietors too terribly, as the lighting is low inside this dive bar located near Indian School Road and 24th Street. The inky interior is punctuated only by the faint glow of a few neon beer signs and a pinball machine, providing a shadowy sanctuary in which to escape the worries of the world, if only for a few hours. It's a little bit like the Batcave (or should we say, Katkave), only with beer, booze, and billiards. The barkeeps never seem to answer the phone much, either, so one will never have to worry about his or her day-drinking sessions being disturbed by a concerned significant other.
As frenetically fun and fashionable as indie dance nights like Electrostatic are to attend, the haute hipster hangouts can seem a bit blasé and predictable after a while. (If you've seen one 20-something dressed in American Apparel dropping Laidback Luke and La Roux remixes, you've seen 'em all.) Thank God, then, that our city has the Rock&RollDancePatrol around to liven things up and save us from tedium with outrageous exploits. A quintet of well-coiffed local scenesters, the RRDP bill themselves as "26th-century DJ superstars" and have appeared at such weeklies as Jared Alan's fauxShow and the Retro Hi-Fi at SideBar — and they tend to steal the show. Though true identities of this foxy five are top secret (they go by such nutty nom de guerres as Dance Armstrong, The Royal Ruffian, and Dude Huge), their off-the-wall antics are a matter of public record. RRDP members Honey Bear and Disco Tex integrate sweet guitar licks with laptop-driven electro, indie, and pop tracks as the rest of the team performs spastically choreographed dance moves. And they do it all whilst dressed in kooky or coordinated costumes, ranging from sleek business suits to a mix of ski masks and gym wear. DJ William Reed, whose defunct Shake! affair at the Rogue hosted the debut of the patrol in March 2009, describes them as a "fun and campy" experience. "It's a little corny but definitely entertaining," he says.
Like many a swanky Scottsdale danceteria, Afterlife usually has a line out the door on the weekend's wee hours. The only difference being that it's happening long after every other disco has slammed its doors shut. Last call is a forbidden concept to this after-hours party pen, which features plenty of all-night adult fun (albeit of a non-alcoholic nature) for all ages. Puff on a hookah in the Earth Room downstairs, partake in poker on the patio, or down energy elixirs or iced mochas in the drink bar. Owner Aron Mezo also has a penchant for outrageous costume and theme parties, like the Anything But Clothes party (as the name indicates, both female and male patrons sport outfits made from duct tape or other household objects). He's also hosted major label hip-hop and R&B artists like Jason Derulo and the GS Boyz. Who says there's nothing fun to do after 2 a.m.?
Phoenix's Juggalo scene has evolved in an interesting way over the past two years. Once upon a time, back when The Monstar Shop was the home base for the "family" of Insane Clown Posse fans — certainly a sub-genre of mutant superheroes, at least in our twisted mind — the Headhurtz Records crew was reppin' the clowns wherever they could. The hatchet-men logos have slowly faded from view as the crew has morphed into more of a horrorcore outfit. Actually, it's getting sort of hard to tell Juggalos from Maggots, as Slipknot's fans are known. DieNasty of the group Dark Side Immortals is certainly one of the Juggalos who's changed, and we support that. He and his group have evolved beyond just dropping ICP references and imitating the Detroit duo, and it's pretty cool to see Phoenix's Juggalos try to build their own greasepaint-covered empire off dumpy beats and bloody lyrics. That said, we can also tell he's still got mad clown love. A big "whoop whoop" from us to DieNasty and the whole DSI crew.
See: a video interview with Shaun Moss.
Shaun Moss is broke, owns a piece-of-shit car, and has no career prospects — hardly anyone's definition of a hero.
Except mine.
Because Shaun Moss loves punk. Because Shaun Moss is punk. He's the guy all the girls in high school said they hated but secretly wanted to hang out with. He's the persona of everything my Catholic upbringing said I shouldn't be. He's the image I saw in movies like Over the Edge and The Outsiders, and he was listening to the Rolling Stones when he was 8 years old. When I was 8 years old, my parents were splitting up, my mom was listening to light rock and crying all the time, and I was mad as hell. I could've used some punk. I could've used some Shaun Moss.
I found him three years ago, just after I moved to Phoenix. He was spinning records at Rogue West (one of the few true rock 'n' roll joints in Phoenix) and the sounds of bands like the Dead Boys, Radio Birdman, and Turbonegro made me want to get to know this soldier of the punk rock scene. Clad in a denim jacket, a Maker's Mark Ambassador pin, and flashing a set of bright blue eyes to rival Matt Dillon's brown ones any day, Shaun Moss plays rock 'n' roll and promotes local shows as if the scene were on life support — and some say it is.
But that's not why he does it. He does it because he loves music. He does it because it's all he knows, more than making tons of money, driving an SUV, or investing in a 401(k). And if you don't like it, he doesn't care — like a punk superhero. — Laura Hahnefeld
New Times contributor Laura Hahnefeld, who writes the paper's Fry Girl column, interviewed Shaun Moss on August 19 at Rogue West, where he DJs every Thursday night.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a professional skateboarder.
While I'm driving, I'm listening to music or thinking about music.
Phoenix could use more of a solid music scene.
Phoenix could use fewer scenesters and hipsters.
My best musician impression is Mick Jagger. I do a pretty good imitation of him in the "Start Me Up" video.
The first concert I saw was Conway Twitty, Mel Tillis, and T.G. Sheppard at the Phoenix Civic Center. My parents took me. It was cool 'cause Conway Twitty was kind of an outlaw. The one thing I remember to this day was that the guitar player had a silver-faced guitar, and every time he would turn, it would shine in our eyes.
Kids today are listening to punk rock that's out right now and don't know about the stuff that started it all. It's cool to see those kids getting into the people that laid the groundwork.
My hero is my friend Shag. He's like a brother to me. I help him fix tattoo machines on the side. He's helped me out more than anybody and I owe him a lot. He keeps me in line.
Right before I go to bed, I always have a smoke.
The power of flight or invisibility? Flight. If I could fly, I'd be, like, "I'm outta here. Later."
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