Where
We Went & Nightlife Picks
Sometimes, I imagine dear Mother, fresh from expelling
Baby Max into this vale of beers, looking askance at the
Doc.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Malt," I can picture the medical eminence
saying. "Your son has been born sociable. I encourage you
to keep your liquor cabinets locked up tight."
If only she had listened.
In general, there's little I love more than the delightful
tickle of rubbing shoulders with my fellow man. But there
comes a time in every nightcrawler's life when she or he
gets snared in a bit of a mood. A meth-deprived-Hell's-Angel,
John-Hinkley-Junior-watching-Taxi-Driver, don't-come-near-me,
knitting-at-the-guillotine, Three-Mile-Island mood.
I know how to deal. I scare up a jukebox loaded with tooth-cracking
badazzmofo music and commence a virtual tour of America's
breweries.
So where to? Ask around the juke groupies of Portland,
and a couple of favorites emerge. The Rialto has
its adherents, and some shed croc tears for the old Satyricon
spinner, but the true anointed ones always seem the same:
You got your Lutz, and you got your Vern.
I surveyed these champs. Which hometown favorite would survive
this brutal test?
CATEGORY ONE: PERSONAL RAGE
It's a fine thing to stroll into the Vern's licensed premises
to find a beret-clad sloshoid doing her best Leaning Tower
of Pisa in front of the juke. And when Motorhead's "Motorhead"
is playing, so much the better. You look at her, this unappealingly
wasted creature wearing, like I said, a fucking beret,
and you think: Yes, that's what it's like sometimes.
Indeed, it's hard to imagine a better soundtrack for blind-rage
animus than the jam-packed old box at this Belmont Street
fortress of lassitude. After the quick hit of Lemmy Incorporated,
I muscled the fashion casualty aside and cued up a real
murderers' row: Antiseen's redneck fuck-off "We Got This
Far Without You," the Sex Pistols' "Pretty Vacant," the
Standells' labor riot "Sometimes Good Guys Don't Wear White"
and Bad Brains' "Pay 2 Cum." In a lather from all this snotty
boy action, I was ready to ease off the nasty jag. An extended
mix of James Brown's "Superbad" and Curtis Mayfield's pissed
(yet suave) "Underground." Better now, thanks.
ADVANTAGE: VERN!
CATEGORY TWO: POLITICAL RAGE
Yes, the Lutz is typically packed with Reedies exploring
their "bohemian" side. I dropped out of a mediocre state
school like a good American, but I still think the L kicks
major wads of ass. Three words for ya: Kill 'Em All.
You can't do better than "Am I Evil?", in which Metallica's
James Hetfield helpfully answers his own question ("Yes,
I am").
Then again, the Lutz's juke (a modern CD-playing type,
as opposed to the Vern's classic 45 rotator) contains plenty
of more thoughtful rabble-rousing music. There's Springsteen's
Born in the U.S.A., Let It Bleed, which never
fails to bring Max to his knees, a mess of Dylan and Fugazi.
And if you happen to come here with matters of the heart
rather than the body politic on your mind, there's Hank
Williams. Hank Goddamned Williams.
ADVANTAGE: LUTZ!
WHERE WE WENT
The Vern
(officially known as Hanigan's Tavern)
2622 SE Belmont St., 233-7851.
Eight songs for a buck.
Lutz Tavern
4639 Woodstock Blvd., 774-0353.
Four songs for a buck.
THIS WEEK'S
COMEDY HIJINX:
Michael Price
"Besides his wit and fresh approach to humor, what sets
Mike apart from the crowd is his pliable face."
Harvey's Comedy Club
436 NW Glisan St., 241-0338
8 pm Wednesday, Thursday and Sunday, 8 and 10:30 pm Friday,
6:30, 9 and 11:30 pm Saturday, April 19-23
$8-$10
ComedySportz
Who will survive this competitive improv gauntlet?
1963 NW Kearney St., 236-8888
9 pm Friday, 7:30 and 9:30 pm Saturday, April 21-22
$10, $9 with can of food for Oregon Food Bank
Alysia Wood
Jimmy Mak's
300 NW 10th Ave., 295-6542
9 pm Monday, April 24
$3
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Willamette Week | originally
published April 19,
2000
|
