It’s an uber popular Bushwick club staple. It’s a roof and a lounge and a back room and the main stage. It’s next door to the Bushwick outpost of Mission Chinese. It’s a 5 minute walk from the Jefferson L train stop. It’s contributed to the coining of nickname “Jeff Town” for the area within a 5 minute walk of the Jefferson L train stop. It’s a $45 dollar cab from your apartment in Chinatown. It’s a 20 minute walk from the JMZ station at Broadway and Flushing. It’s just past Tina’s and The Narrows and a location on Google Maps tagged as “Badass Graffiti Wall.” It’s a really long line to get in the main entrance but much quicker through the guest list door. It’s a Saturday night. It’s headliner Skin on Skin. It’s Briana Cheng plus 10. “It’s outside to the left then inside to the right.” It’s about 3 minutes before your scrum shuffles in. It’s not at all crowded as it’s before midnight. It’s nice there’s no line for the bar. It’s not the only bar. It’s one of at least 4. It’s $24 dollars for a vodka Red Bull. It’s been a while since you’ve had one. It’s $48 to buy one for yourself and another for your brother. It’s a $62.40 total if you accidentally give a 30% tip. It’s cool you got in for free but you are about to spend way more money than anticipated. “It’s dead down here.” It’s halfway down the hall, up the stairs, past the bathroom line, to the right of the bar to access the rave cave room reminiscent, of an Oakland house show, humid with human breath. “It’s fucking packed up here I can’t move let’s mash into the corner and take drugs.” It’s advisable you be on drugs. It’s easier for you to get drugs in the city and it’s easier to come prepared if you have any idea you’re going to end up here in the first place. It’s 10 of you and some of you have drugs but you’ve only just met those people. It’s a delicate conversation to begin to ask for some from a stranger as you don’t want the second thing you ever say to a person to be “can I have a bump?” It’s too bad you didn’t make it to the afternoon rooftop party in BedStuy that everyone else was at because if you had then you’d all be buddies by now. It’s about 400 sq ft. It’s two or maybe three DJs. It’s presumably bright in that booth as they are all wearing sunglasses. It’s three men in their 30s who all look like they spin on IG Live and have a TikTok channel where they break down your favorite hip hop samples. It’s their set at the lounge room in the back of the middle upstairs floor between the bathrooms at 11:30 on a Saturday night the weekend before college graduations. It’s time you try to make your friend Taylor laugh with pithy jibes. “Do they have a room here where you can pee on people?” “It’s not that kind of place,” she says. “It's not Berlin.” It’s giving “what do you do?” but in the way you used to ask “what’s your major?” It’s all about dressing in the right variety of mesh to hide the accurate answer to that question, or your college sweatshirt, oddly. It’s around 1000 capacity for the venue in total but they really shouldn’t all be in this tiny room at one time. It’s somewhat infantilizing to perch your bum on the high seatbacks of the perimeter couches but all the standing room is taken. It’s every 20 seconds or so you think of another one liner to yell into Taylor’s ear. It’s not likely you will remember any of them. It’s nice to smoke cigarettes up on the roof and it’s intensely relieving that it’s from a full pack. It’s funny that when you asked for recommendations of where to visit next for your bar review post you balked at them mostly being in Bushwick/Ridgewood yet here you are. It’s not one of the recommendations however. It’s probably an hour before the headliner goes on. It’s the ten of you standing in the back of the main stage room at a T-Stop between the path to the main bar, the back room and the door to outside. It’s hard for all of you to make your way deeper into the center of the crowd and it’s rapidly filling in. It’s one by one you lose each member of your group. It’s the two people who work in music to go first with their all access wristbands and inclination to stand behind the DJ. It’s then the two single guys. It’s next the pair on Ketamine but they don’t wander off so much as get lost. It’s your brother third to last because it’s past his bedtime. It’s you and the pretty girl with the drugs at the end. It’s not so bad in that case as now you have reason to bond. It’s her 3rd month in New York but it’s her second time living here. It’s her friend, and roommate, the tall, also Australian, guy she’s trying to find. It’s hard to try and find anyone as the lights change too frequently and there’s hundreds of people dancing in front of you and it’s loud which isn’t a visual disturbance but it’s making it harder to focus. It’s not so bad to get into the raised side stage area and lord over the crowd somewhat by the front. “It’s fine if you wanna hold on to it, I’ve had enough,” she says. It’s Skin on Skin the headliner on. It’s her friend that works with them and is how she knows them but it’s also notable they are both of South Sudanese descent yet grew up in Australia. It’s Sydney that they’re from. “It’s funny,” you say. “It’s just yesterday I met two South Sudanese girls when I was bartending and had a lovely conversation and they also moved to Australia as young kids. It’s likely they know each other.” “It’s not that small of a place,” she reminds you. It’s weird you said that. “It’s probably the coke,” you think to yourself. It’s been over a year of ongoing war in Sudan. It’s the largest internal displacement crisis in the world. It’s 18,000,000 people there facing acute food insecurity. It’s an unexpected venue for this conversation but it’s now more interesting than the music. It’s dawning on you are getting quite chatty yet feeling more obtuse and though it’s good company you are thinking maybe you need to sit and drink a beer and not for $13. It’s her tall friend you feel move in behind you so it’s time you can take your leave; them reunited. “It’s been nice meeting you,” you say. It’s a quick walk to The Narrow but it’s not the day either of your friends work. It’s an hour before you realize James is at Lou’s and it’s a 10 minute Uber trip over there. It’s 6am before you walk out. It’s been a long night and it’s time to reflect as you fall half asleep over the Williamsburg Bridge. It’s a whole week till you’re paid again next Friday. It’s so far from home to stay out so late in Bushwick. It’s a big club, it's a big to do, it's supposed to be fun. It’s also a big hangover and it’s not getting any easier. It’s freeing? It’s community? It’s crowded. It’s all things to all people. It’s exactly where I’d rather be any time I’m there. It’s ELSEWHERE.
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It's a damn good review, too.
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