The party is always in Philly, legally till 2 am, but usually much later. We love to drink, as evidenced by our freakish restrictions about buying booze. State liquor stores close by 10 pm, having collected adequate war cash for the day, leaving us with two options: go to a bar, or go to Jersey—and we often can be seen with swooshy fingers, taking out no-service-charge twenties at Wawa, having chosen (with all our might) not Jersey. Unfortunately, when Jersey is faced with the same dire choice, they choose not themselves, and can be spotted living, er, trashing, it up in certain special locales where spray-tans glisten with the metal sheen of the Camden side of the river. But this is just the drink talking.
Beer
The Standard Tap (Map 19) and Johnny Brenda’s (Map 19) are favorites for local beers on tap. Known as hipster enclaves, the two (especially the Standard Tap) are now catering to more varied crowds. If you’re looking more for exotic beer than a night out, though, you should really just make your own six pack at The Foodery (Map 19). For a more Irish perspective, go to Fergie’s (Map 3); please be aware that there really is a Fergie and he is, in fact, quite Irish. The scene here is multifarious and seems to shift with each new wave of clientele, from music lovers on floor 2 to bonding med students, and then, of course, friends of Fergie. The Nodding Head (Map 2) isn’t bad at all if Monk’s (Map 2) won’t let you in. If it’s on the menu, we recommend the Monkey Knife Fight—that’s the name of a beer, not an unfortunate form of entertainment.
Sports
O’Neal’s (Map 8) is relatively low-key as sports bars go, and you can even stay after the game to get your groove going. Di Nic’s Tavern (Map 9) is the sort of place that you want to leave before the riot. Liberties (Map 19) is pretty hard-core—not the place to take your kids. Tir Na Nog (Map 2), with its league of brash devotees, continues to host athletic adventures in athletic voyeurism. We hesitate to mention it because it’s both small and one of our favorite spots, but when it comes to game time, Murph’s (Map 20) is, as the sign promises, a comfortable place to be.
Swank
The Ritz-Carlton Rotunda (Map 2) is the end all be all of places to be seen. Washington Square (Map 3), with its civilized park view, helps you get eased into nature if you’re feeling a little stiff, while Haru (Map 4) feeds you fresh raw fish. Red Sky (Map 4) glows magenta on Market with dessert martinis. Tria (Maps 2), from its knowledgeable servers, voluminous menu, anally chosen glassware, and artful food pairings, is wine perfect. Apothecary Lounge (Map 3) and the new Franklin Mortage & Investment Co. (Map 2) make the fanciest vintage cocktails this side of 1908, and its bartenders are walking liquor encyclopedias. The latest Continental (Map 4) in Center City is impressive for its swinging chairs and batshit roofdeck (which features terribly annoying clientele on the weekends). The Black Sheep (Map 2), meanwhile, will help you wind down in style, and L’Etage (Map 8) will transport you to a French haven in, of all places, here.
Dive
We’re not sure if a bar can still technically be a dive after being voted “Best Dive,” but Oscars' (Map 2) $3, 22 oz. lagers certainly count for something. Neighborhood obsession, Doobie’s (Map 1) is good pretty much always. And anything goes—smoking, anything—at Dirty Frank’s (Map 3). If you find yourself stuck on South Street, beeline it to Tattooed Mom’s (Map 8), which has a smoking room and great drink specials—$1 PBR pounders, anyone? Similarly, if you’re stuck in Old City, get to Sugar Mom’s (Map 4), Tattooed Mom’s sister that offers the same deals with a slightly creepier cave-like atmosphere. Bob and Barbara’s (Map 7) will do you whiskey for 3 bucks, and if the amazingly jazzy house band isn’t putting your head back together as you systematically drink it apart, the juke box can rock, too. It seems pertinent to mention The Dive (Map 8), which, in a newly booming location, is the zest of the neighborhood—but don’t miss Saturday night karaoke with a mix of dirty hipsters and old neighborhood men at Ray’s Happy Birthday Bar (Map 8) down the street. And we’ll leave it at this: you can’t smoke at The Fire (Map 19), but depending on the evening you can either get in a fight or listen to bluegrass. Hope for the bluegrass.
Dance
Most of the big clubs in Philly (including Shampoo (Map 19), and anything on Delaware Ave.) are filled with Jersey kids and suburbanites. For some truer getting down, how about a little 700 Club (Map 19)? Also known as “Seven Hundies,” this once-bastion of hipster dancing has lost a little of its edge, but it’s still fun. If you’re looking for the next big thing, though, try The Barbary (Map 19). While the 700 Club is mostly spinning hip-hop on the weekends now, The Barbary holds strong on Fridays with Michael Madonna Prince. Medusa’s (Map 1) basement of rank delight is a trip alright. Drum n’ Bass beats fill this dungeon of E enthusiasts who perform niche dance moves with athletic dedication. Five cop cars aren’t pulled up beside McFadden’s (Map 19) on a weekend for nothing—there’s a party inside, and it’s trashy as hell—good for a joke night that turns black-eye serious.
Gay/Lesbian
Most of the alternative bars are in roughly the same area of Center City (lovingly referred to as the “Gaybor-hood”). The 12th Air Command (Map 3) has multiple floors of dancing fools getting up and getting down. The Bike Stop (Map 3) is not so dainty, and has whips to boot. Woody’s (Map 3) is the mainstay of the gay community, and is large and welcoming for all. The oft grumbled-over Sisters (Map 3) is not hated but loved, the way you might love a stray dog that keeps showing up at your door, or a bar that is sadly the only lesbian bar in the entire city. The annually (or so it seems) renamed, cosmopolitan Bump (Map 3) seems to have caught hold with those who take their drinks pink. And to venture out every once and a while (we mean from the gayborhood, silly) check out the weekly Thursday-night drag show at Bob & Barbara’s (Map 7).
Music Venues
Philly’s music scene is as varied and wide-open as you could hope for. For down and dirty indie bands, check out R5 Productions’ (www.r5productions.com) (occasionally all-ages) shows at the First Unitarian Church (Map 1), The Barbary (Map 19) and more. For the over-21 contingent there’s gigs at Johnny Brenda’s (Map 20) and The Khyber (Map 4), which hosts not only music but also comedy shows like the monthly Chip Chantry’s One-Man Show (with Special Guests). The Electric Factory (Map 19) is a larger venue in No-Libs but not as big (or as obnoxious) as the Wachovia Center (Map 12), which gets many of the big touring bands. For a more gentle vibe, the North Star (Map 16) remains a great space to check out up-and-comers, and The Filmore at the TLA (Map 8) on South Street is like a white canvas (ok, but black and a little used) where mid-level music acts make the space and crowd their own. If you want some cred, refuse to call it “The Filmore.” Quickly losing its luster is the Trocadero (Map 3), legendary for its titty show days, now home of acts from the Insane Clown Posse to Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. And finally, for the jazz set there’s Ortlieb’s (Map 19), which was rated as one of the top 10 jazz clubs in the country by Playboy. As to whether it’s funnier that Playboy did the rating or that one of the nation’s top jazz cafes is in Philly, we’re not sure.
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Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Posted By:
Craig Nelson
Photo:
Courtesy of Green Label
Trocadero
Do you like awesome '80s groovin' synth music from Montreal? Then keep reading because NFT and Green Label are teaming up to give away a pair of tickets to the big Chromeo show at the Trocadero on July 27th. Here's the deal: Sign up for the NFT newsletter, follow Green Label and NFT on twitter, and wait for the exciting trivia question that will be delivered in your email inbox very soon. Be the first person to answer the question, and you'll be the big winner! And if you don't win the tix, you can still get the new album dropping on September 14th. Click here to listen to a few sample tracks.
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Friday, May 21, 2010
Posted By:
Nathan Fried
Photo:
Nathan Fried
700 Club
I walk past the 700 club every day after work and just recently decided to give it a try. I don't really know what stopped me from entering before. Maybe it was the soccer playing on the widescreen. Maybe it was the horn rimmed glasses that seemed to elegantly sit upon most all noses at the bar. Maybe it was the laughter pouring out the 7 foot high windows that wrap the corner bar like a posh Rittenhouse restaurant. No, you know what it was? It was that damn affable intellect sitting at the window sill, foot kicked up, leaning back, and reading some stupid looking book by a guy named Jack Kerouac. Something hit me one day, however. I have that same book sitting on my shelf at home. My superfluous resentment of the hipster culture has less basis than their affinity for skinny jeans! That same day, I grabbed my wallet and, er--horn rimmed glasses, and headed out for an evening at the 700 club. Instantly welcomed into the fold, I quickly made friends and they introduced me to the upstairs which blew me away--an entire 2nd floor row home converted into a club that actually played house music, a gem when considering Philly’s obsession with Q102. The 700 club is a place to make friends, read a book, relax, watch the game, and dance for the sole purpose of dancing.
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Wednesday, May 05, 2010
Posted By:
Nathan Fried
Photo:
Nathan Fried
The Fire
Damien Rice, My Chemical Romance, OK GO, Maroon 5, John Legend. Try to find any connection between these artists and you are likely to have an aneurism. Well, maybe not those living in NoLibs and frequenting The Fire. The first time I walked into this bar/music venue was freshman year of college. The Fire is best described as a dive, but not in that cool scenester style. It's an honest-to-god dump, but one you could easily fall head over heels in love with. I held my bag tight as I walked down Girard from Temple. It was an open mic night. I grabbed a soda pop--come on guys, I was under-aged and very responsible at the time--and headed into the dimly-lit back room where I heard, for the first time, a guy named Nate singing the blues. Next up was another singer who's voice and sound was reminiscent of Radiohead. He was followed by Physical Illusion, a regular who frequently sings about polar bears. Since that night, I have tried my best to always make it to the Monday Night open-mics. Every night of the week has some sort of performance, but it's always different. You might hear classic rock, beat-boxing, rap, spoken word, instrumental, or even folk. It's hit or miss though. Some nights are amazing, others are completely absent of life. The back room was recently revamped when they closed down for a short time this past year, but the bar would still be considered a dive.
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Friday, April 23, 2010
Posted By:
Augustin Kendall
Photo:
Augustin Kendall
Locust Bar
For those who take cigarettes with their alcohol, Locust Bar is a breath of stale, smoky air. Since 2008, Philadelphia bars have been smoke-free zones, except for few and far between spots like this dive bar. On the inside, Locust Bar is much like you might expect from the outside. The beer is cheap. The regulars are old, young, strange, and often unnervingly friendly to strangers. It's right on Jefferson University campus, so you'll run into college crowds on weekends (and sometimes in the middle of a weekday afternoon). The bartender will remember you. If you like karaoke, Sunday's your night; quizzo is on Tuesday. It's dark, narrow, and stinky. What more could one ask for? Locust Bar is a haven in the middle of Center City's pretentious drinking spots.
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Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Posted By:
Nathan Fried
Photo:
Nathan Fried
Liberties
"Let's name our bar Liberties." "uh...why?" "...because irony is so much sweeter when it actually makes sense!" I can only imagine this was the dialog exchanged upon the inception of Liberties bar in the heart of Northern Liberties. Still, a rose by another name will prick you just as deep. i.e. the name don't matter. As a matter of fact, your mom was right. What really matters is what's inside, and what's inside Liberties is great. A classic Victorian bar; quiet on the nights you need to relax and full of excitement on the nights you need to have some fun. You won't find that uniquely tasting Belgian beer at Liberties, but you will find all the standard taps you see anywhere else in the city. What compliments this place is its food; good prices and great eats. The quesadilla is especially good as it is baked, not fried, easily tricking any health junkie that it's actually good for you! The bar hosts a few consistently good and always pleasing musicians throughout the week, quizzo, and big performances on the second floor. Oh, I can't forget the one golden aspect--unlike many places in No. Libs, you won't find hipsters or soccer playing here.
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