Every now and again I find myself wanting to spend an entire Sunday afternoon hanging out in the bar rather than catching the ever fleeting ray of sunshine. It’s not because I’m a booze hound or because I need to bend the bartenders ear about the woes of the world. Yet something always pulls at me to hunker down with a good bloody mary or yellow beer, and just hang out. There are always a handful of haunts that I turn to in these times of need and I am beginning to figure out why. It’s all about the Jukeboxes. A bar with a good set of discs is like a bar with an old friend. I love when you walk into a place and you find yourself wanting to sing along with song after song-and eventually do depending on how long you’ve been there. Now if I can just figure out the precise location to throw a Fonzie elbow into these damn things and I could save a load of dough.
So my question to you is this:
Where are your most favorite-est Jukeboxes in Seattle?
Here’s my top 5 rundown.
5) Chupacabra (Phinney Ridge) – Punk, Buttrock, and Burritos
4) 5-Point (Belltown-ish) I can get my laundry done and get my Tom Waits fix
3) King’s Hardware (Ballard Ave) Let the music move you through cheap Sunday Bloodies, righteous Sliders and all the Ski-Ball you can handle
2) The Tin Hat (65th in Ballard) I’ve heard TV on the Radio plugged end to end more than once in here. Makes for a great Pinball soundtrack
1) The Pacific Inn (Stone Way in Fremont) Fish n Chips and a side of rock please.
Now if you know these places, you’ll notice that all of the grindboxes listed are the old-fashioned CD-in-the-machine type not the connect-to-the-internet type. (Foze here tells me neither one of those are old fashioned.. Semantics, my friend. Now go “Sit on it”.) It’s my opinion that there is no flavor in the MP3 version. Any non-discerning clod can load any song they wish to the player and you inevitably end up with the one friggen single on every damn album in the list. Screw that. (Arthur agrees fully on this.) The entire point of selecting specific albums is to have a soundtrack for your joint, a consistent backdrop. It also means I don’t ever have to listen to someone’s favorite Jimmy Buffett “song” (read torture device) just because it’s “Yeah..Spring Break… Whoo hoo!” Plus, my tender MTV battered mind only has the attention span to pour over 100 CD titles, MAX. I get frightened and confused when I first have to choose a letter of the alphabet then pick a band, then an album, and then AW, DAMN! they only have the friggen single!!! and wham, I’m curled up on the floor wanting my 10 minutes and $2 back.
Now I suppose if you get a steady crowd of music savvy hipsters loading tunes on a regular basis, you could end up with a pretty bitchin set-up. If you know where this gem resides, lemmieno.