Long before I was Shane The Columnist, and even long before I was Shane The Guy Who Takes Your Classified Ads, I was Shane The Socially Awkward Weirdo Who Still Got Invited To All The Parties Because He Brought The Music.
When I was in high school, the DJ they always hired for our sanctioned dances was terrible. I knew I could do a better job, and my friends agreed. When the next dance rolled around, we underbid the other guy, showed up with our home stereos wired together and a mixer powered by four D batteries, and somehow managed to turn a lame high school dance into an epic party.
Sure, maybe I got in a teeny bit of trouble for playing the Sex Pistols and causing a mosh pit to break out in the cafeteria, but I suddenly found myself as our school's resident DJ. Thus began my long side career pumping tunes for parties, proms, frat houses, raves, and dance clubs. Since my teens, there's seldom been a weekend that I haven't been pushing bass cabinets to their limits.
What a lot of you don't know is that, for the past few months, I've been gig-less. The Davenport bar I've worked at for years changed hands and the new owners decided to take the place in a decidedly non-musical, non-Shane direction. I was sincerely considering DJ retirement. I'd had a pretty good run. I manned the decks for my hometown's only teen club, I kept our frat house bouncing for years, I helped bring rave culture to the Quad Cities, and I held down a dancefloor residency for over a decade in the District of Rock Island.
And now I'm back. Just when I thought I was out of the game, a phone call from an old friend has brought me back to a DJ booth in the District. I'm still getting a feel for the place, which is honestly the hardest part of starting any new gig. Sometimes when I try to figure out a new club, I picture myself in the crowd. Sometimes I compare it to other places I've worked.
And sometimes, I compare it to the bars, clubs, and coffeeshops I know best: the ones on TV. I'm a television junkie, and some of my favorites drinkeries don't even exist in the real world. This got me thinking about some of television's best known liquid lounges and how well they'd actually stack up in the real world.
Let's start with CENTRAL PERK. Okay, so they don't serve booze, but in the world of "Friends," I'm not sure if bars exist. Instead, everyone's favorite sitcom characters gathered daily at one of the least interesting coffeehouses in all of New York. From the evidence we know, Central Perk makes its name on bad service and folk songs about smelly cats. Also, all of the seating is generic save for ONE couch that's somehow always available to any of our six heroes upon their arrival. Could Central Perk BE any more boring? Hard pass.
Instead, if we're talking coffee, you'd be more likely to find me at CC JITTERS. The coffee is pretty much liquid caffeine, the ambience is dark and futuristic, they serve cronuts, they hold trivia nights, and there's always about a 20% chance of a superhero fight or amazing supernatural event that will NEVER hurt you because The Flash is always around to protect you. Last week, a freaking BLACK HOLE opened up at its front doors. That's something I'd like to see.
If we're discussing proper fictional bars, everything has to be compared to CHEERS. Frankly, I'm back and forth on this place, and I was actually INSIDE its replica once when I visited Boston. A basement bar means cool ambience, and Norm WILL make you laugh. Cliff is kind of a nightmare, but its a big enough place to avoid him. The problem I have with Cheers is the clientele. Watch any episode. It's a weird mix of old alcoholics, street hustlers, businesspeople in suits, vapid floozies, and an owner who -- let's face it -- in the #metoo era is likely behind bars.
In fact, I can't think of any fictional big city bars I have an affinity for. It might always be sunny in Philadelphia, but not at PADDY'S PUB. The neighborhood is terrifying, the furnace is fueled by trash, the rats outnumber the staff, and there's an unfixable "yuck puddle" in the bathroom. Come to think of it, this would be the PERFECT place to throw a rave.
They DID throw a rave once at THE PEACH PIT. David Silver DJ'ed, Dylan stole all the money, and I think Donna and Kelly learned an important lesson about drugs. It might have been a burger joint by day, but when the Peach Pit After Dark opened up, it became the hottest club in all of 90210, playing host to the likes of Color Me Badd, Adam Levine, and even the Flaming Lips, which caused Steve Sanders to utter the immortal words, "I've never been a big fan of alternative music, but these guys rock the house!"
Then there's the SNAKEHOLE LOUNGE, "Pawnee's Sickest Nightclub." If it's good enough for the staff of Indiana's finest Parks & Recreation department, it's good enough for me. Drizzled in neon and awash with loud music, binge drinking, and cocktails with a high enough alcohol content to get Ron Swanson dancing, this hotspot is a sad testament to the... oh, who am I kidding? If I lived in Pawnee, I'd probably be heading there with a stack of records right now.
But if you want MY opinion, no better bar has ever NOT existed in real life than The Roadhouse from "Twin Peaks." (I'm trying SUPER hard not to be a nerd and point out it's actually called The Bang Bang Bar -- Roadhouse is just a local nickname. I've clearly failed.) But where else can you walk into a rustic rural bar half full of bikers while being serenaded by any number of ethereal otherworldly musicians. Nine Inch Nails played there! Our own Lissie played there! And if you're lucky, a terrifying dream giant might appear in a prophetic vision. Is there anything better than booze, mellow tunes, dream giants, and an overall sense of foreboding dread? I love the Roadhouse so much I've walked into OTHER Roadhouses hoping it'd be even 1% like the Bang Bang Bar and it never is. Not even one dream giant. Boo.
Maybe one day I'll see a club on TV that looks like the one I'm spinning at now. Odds are slim. It would need a mechanical bull. More on that next week.
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