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The joke goes that anyone who went to Studio 54 and remembers it didn't really experience it at all. Luckily, the information superhighway is here to remind us. And since the ur-disco opened 33 years ago tonight, there's no better time to take a fuzzy look back. In 1980, 14-year old Brooke Shields starred in a scandalous Calvin Klein ad campaign. 29 years later, she stars in commercials for every company but Calvin Klein. Woody Allen and Michael Jackson: Who knew these two would grow up to have so much in common? Rumor has it, Studio 54 is where Suzanne Somers first dreamed up the ThighMaster. Grace Jones and Bianca Jagger on a typical Monday at the office. Look closely: that's your dad holding down Grace's fur tarp. Mick Jagger and Truman Capote were at Studio 54 enough to be mistaken for furniture. Which you really didn't want to be mistaken for at Studio 54. The typical crowd outside "Sondheim On Sondheim", currently playing at 254 West 54th Street. At least some of 54's bygone hedonism lives on in the sex parties allegedly being thrown in the space above it! Photos via Gothamist via Life

"After an amazing 5 years Cain will be closing it's doors. Please join us for an unforgettable night on Wednesday March 24th at 11pm to help us celebrate," -Jamie Mulholland, owner of Cain. Yup, after climbing to the top of the West 27th Street bottle service heap, the safari-themed lounge is beating its final drum.* Marquee is still around, though its owners and famed doormen have moved onto younger child Avenue. Bungalow 8 is constantly rumored to be on the chopping block. An underage girl was murdered after drinking at Guest House. And a man fell to his death in since-closed B.E.D.'s elevator shaft. Frankly we're impressed Cain prospered for as long as it did, especially given shifting tastes and a recession that all but eliminated bottle service as the dominant nightlife form. But as a wise Minnesotan once said, "parties weren't made to last." We are glad that all energies with Mulholland and co. will now be focused on what is really important: Montauk. [All Cain Posts]

According to the New York Post and New York magazine, the answer is a disturbing yes. Ever since Fashion Week kicked off, the rock 'n roll relic has been spotted all over town, staging impromptu concerts and reminding us, like geriatric Mick Jagger before him, that age doesn't matter if you still know how to party. Or something. Beginning with his performance (both on and off-stage) at John Varvatos and L'Uomo Vogue's NYFW kick-off party, Axl's bender has not gone unnoticed among the city's movers and shakers. He's been spotted with guitar in tow everywhere from Rose Bar (where he serenaded a Twitterific crowd on Valentine's Day) to Greenhouse, where co-owner Barry Mullineaux christened a pink cocktail "the Axl Rose" in the rocker's honor. Among his co-conspirators, we've spotted Kevin Bacon and wife Kyra Sedgwick, Caleb Followill of Kings of Leon, Scarlett Johannsen, and…Sebastian Bach? That's the only one that seems logical. Where else has Axl been during this Big Apple bender? Friday, February 12: Plays a set at John Varvatos' store in the old CBGB; heads to Greenhouse where he stays until 8 a.m. (With Varvatos at right.) Sunday, February 14: Parties with fellow 80's rocker Sebastian Bach at 1oak before moving party to his room at the Essex House Hotel. Monday, February 15: Plays a private concert at Gramercy Park Hotel's Rose Bar before heading to a private room with Bach and another Reagan era fossil, actor Mickey Rourke. Friday, February 19: Swings from chandeliers (figuratively) at the Box, then continues the revelry at Mike's apartment, a secret party loft on Great Jones and Lafayette. Sunday, February 21: Terrorizes Meatpacking's Standard Hotel and, again, Greenhouse. Wednesday, February 24: Plays ping-pong with Scarlet Johansson at SPiN before heading to Avenue and Mike's apartment. Friday, February 26: Axl hits a grand slam, starting at the Box, then hitting GoldBar, SL, and Mike's apartment with the Black Eyed Peas. We're exhausted just looking at that. But it begs a great question: Where will Axl go next? What stones has he left unturned? What does this week hold? It's a new month chock full of new opportunities to smash guitars, swill pink drinks, and generally act like a teenager. Axl shows no signs of slowing down, and for that, we are thankful. Keep up with Axl's shenanigans on his Twitter! [Photos via PMc.]

Jesse Malin's East Village rock den Cabin Down Below regularly draws night owls away from Top of the Standard come 2 am. Now his latest spot, Black Market, is stealing even mighty Kenmare's thunder. Has underdog punk Malin reached the top of NYC's nightlife totem pole? A* Tuesday night preview at Black Market drew the likes of Bono, Michael Stipe, Natalie Portman, Kirsten Dunst, Jason Schwartzman, Spike Jonze and the Olsen twins (look down and you'll see them). The wingding was in honor of fancy pants clothing line Rodarte and during Fashion Week, which inflated the guest list. But it bodes well for the Avenue A newcomer (and poorly for local peasants hoping to check it out for themselves). It also confirms that Malin has stealthily joined the roster of NYC nightlife heavyweights. Malin is an unlikely Olsen magnet, and that's a good thing. The punk veteran fronted local hardcore band Heart Attack at the ripe old age of 13. The group played its final show in 1984 at CBGB (Malin was a regular and appeared in Burning Down the House, a great doc about the iconic punk bar). He went on to form bands with names like PCP Highway and Bellevue and was the lead singer of D Generation for 8 years. Coney Island High, Malin's beloved rock bar and performance venue on St. Marks Place is gone (its closure in 1999 was one of the final nails in that street's pierced, tattooed coffin), but he's had a resurgence lately with Bowery Electric,* Cabin and Black Market (upstairs from Cabin, in the former Pizza Shop, another Malin joint). But has he sold out? What's a veteran East Village punk doing hosting a party for Rodarte? As another Fashion Week bites the dust and thankfully takes some star wattage with it, Black Market will hopefully relax into a solid, rock-tinged neighborhood joint. The sweaty, puke-stained ghost of CBGB* would not abide another velvet rope.

East Villagers were displeased when Superdive brought flip-cup and "keg service" to their once-edgy hood. But EVGrieve tells us things are about to get worse with the opening of The 13th Step (from the folks behind literary salons Down the Hatch, Off the Wagon and Jake's Dilemma) in the old Telephone Bar space. Superdive is an atrocity. And it taunts locals by being on the constant verge of closure. But between the winking name and over-the-top frat boy ridiculousness of the place (pour your own drinks! bring your own roofies!), you've got to assume it's in on the joke, even if none of the popped-collared douchery inside is. So it is with a heavy, nicotine-stained heart that the few holdouts left from the neighborhood's revolutionary heyday greet The 13th Step. Why so serious? Consider the "testimonials" included on the websites of 13th Step's sisters bars. There's also Down the Hatch ("Hip, cool, young, rocking," with a kitchen run by Atomic Wings!), Off the Wagon (something about a "crazy protractor forehead" and a quote from someone charmingly labeled "Drunk Lady"). And don't forget Jake's Dilemma ("If you venture downstairs, you won't believe your eyes" if you see a bathroom clear of vomit). We wish the team behind The 13th Step would take a cue from their "clever" AA-inspired bar names and become anonymous. See you at Mars Bar, where the real alcoholics hang out.

Nightlife fixture Steve Lewis celebrated his birthday last Tuesday night at Lit, and even got behind the turn tables to DJ for a song or two. In his own words, "It's my party, and I'll DJ if I want to!" - "It's not going to be that special, you know." Mr.Lewis wrote. "No swinging from the chandeliers or lamp shades on my head. I may have a drink or three." The birthday boy may have complied with his "no swinging from the chandeliers" prediction, but some of his guests may have certainly come close to it. In addition to the guest of honor, the venue was filled with scores of Pretty Young Things who definitely seemed to have opted for the "or three" drink policy, though we would expect nothing less from a party thrown by the Nightlife King. As for the venue, Mr.Lewis explains his choice: "I am doing my party at Lit because it is the best place in twon. It's not just a great bar, as it has that sexy subterranean room where I get turned on and out every time. It also is home to the Fuse Gallery, and I find that magical." Lit has come into a bit of trouble lately with the crackdown on smoking indoors (ehrm, yeah, sorry about that whole thing...), so who knows how many more nights like this one are in its future. Perhaps it is with the venue's uncertain future in mind that everyone partied hard, and it wasn't until early morning that anyone uttered "Good night, Mr.Lewis." - [All photos via Kirillwashere]

Pssst, there’s a new hidden bar on the LES. No, no one knows where it is. Yeah, it was a taco stand or brothel or fallout shelter or something. To get in, you descend the stairs, cartwheel through the kitchen, dry hump the busboy and…zzzzzzzzzzz. Breaking news: the Eighteenth Amendment was repealed. But we’d welcome a prohibition on New York’s speakeasy revival. The new wave of speakeasies kicked off with Sasha Petraske’s Milk & Honey. The door was unmarked and the number unlisted. Only regulars who followed the house rules (No Fighting, No Star Fucking, Gentlemen Will Remove Their Hats) knew who to call to get in. But these gimmicks came second to the main attraction: bartenders (yes, time to put the word “mixologist” to rest too) who made a mean cocktail. Milk & Honey was a hit. And the inevitable imitators ( The Back Room, Employees Only, La Esquina) jumped on the covert bandwAMEagon. In the last year or so, the speakeasy trend has gone into hyperdrive with SubMercer, Woodson & Ford,* Raines Law Room, Cabin Down Below, Su Casa, the (now-shuttered) Cafe Select backroom and Uo to name a few. Speakeasies thrive for obvious reasons. They are exclusive, but subtly so. At some point in the last five years, the brash elitism on display at places like Bungalow 8, Marquee and Cain went out of style. The wave of “it” destinations that followed ostensibly shunned the sort of excess (velvet ropes, beefy bouncers, membership cards, bottle service) that, especially post-Recession, dated those 27th Street hotspots.* (There have been exceptions of course, like Matt Levine’s LES litter box The Eldridge.) Hidden bars, then, appear to be modest ventures. But they exist solely to flatter their patrons, convincing them that they’ve dodged the tasteless cliches lining the Meatpacking District and West Chelsea for a more refined, off-the-beaten-path alternative. In the end, they’ve merely replaced Marquee as the place to go to avoid the riff-raff. And there’s nothing modest about that. There’s also the self-flattery that comes with “being in the know” and leading friends or a date through some convoluted labyrinth of an entrance before being granted the privilege of paying $15 for a mediocre cocktail. The biggest joke with modern speakeasies is that these days it’s hard to not know about them. It’s no coincidence that secret bars exploded in popularity at the same time and wrote Secret’s 140-character obituary. (Speaking of stale trends, shouldn’t we all be over Facebook and texting now that our mothers are hooked on them?) Today’s twenty-somethings are used to the idea of all of their friends knowing exactly where they are at any given moment. Any illusion of mystery seems welcome. But that feeling of falling off the grid often results in someone tweeting about how happy they are to have fallen off the grid; people just can’t resist. Sure, the internet (including, we’ll admit, sites like ours) is largely responsible for the silly contradictions of the new speakeasies. But speakeasies, in becoming so inescapable, also have themselves to blame. Hidden Bars That Get A Pass: Chumley’s. 86 Bedford Street. For its history. (Currently closed for renovations) Bill’s Gay Nineties. 57 E. 54 Street. For its history and awesomely misleading name. Milk & Honey. 134 Eldridge Street. For its innovation. Angel’s Share: 8 Stuyvesant Street.* For date nights. PDT. 113 St. Mark’s Place. For its hot dogs.

[Famous Chopsticks from Indochine. © Used by permission; photo by Mark Igashino From Indochine published 2009 by Rizzoli International New York] In New York, a restaurant that makes it 10 years might as well qualify for a plaque from the Landmarks Preservation Commission. So you’ve got to hand it to Indochine as the Lafayette Street classic celebrates its 25th Anniversary with a party, and a book! More photos and story below… Indochine was one of the first hangouts to straddle the uptown and downtown scenes as the two began to conflate in the art- and junk bond-fueled ’80s. Consider the placement on Indochine’s boldface name-studded seating chart (in Page Six on September 14th, 1997, and on the back of the party invite for tonight) of Ivana Trump and Ed Koch just a spring roll’s throw away from Marc Jacobs and David Bowie. Speaking of seating charts, Indochine was among the first joints to apply them below 14th Street (and, unlike the Four Seasons,* to a hot crowd not nearing Depends age). Always ahead of the curve, the French-colonial spot also foresaw the foodie fusion trend that no one could escape in the ’90s. As we mentioned earlier, Indochine’s influence can be spotted all over town. But you really ought to take in the real thing. Nothing beats an original, and few, if any, of Indochine’s wan imitators can boast the following: Andy Warhol partied here. Read what other famous NYC figures have to say about Indochine, and go buy the book, published exclusively by Rizzoli, for more exclusive photos and quotes from one of the best. Check back tomorrow for our coverage of the anniversary party! André Balazs: “Indochine is somehow a place that one constantly stumbles back into and rediscovers. A long stretch of time will pass by and suddenly you’ll go back and realize, “This is so great.†Like all good public places, it has layers of veneer, all of which contribute to its success—it’s not just the food, it’s not just the room, it’s not just the social part, or the location, it’s all of them, and Indochine has that unique combination.” Andrea Rosen: “Indochine opened the same year that I moved to New York, in 1984. So there’s an interesting trajectory with what I consider my own history in New York.” Jason Pomeranc: “I recall going to Indochine in its early years as a teen, when I was lucky enough to be invited by my brothers or older friends. I was too young to experience the heyday of studio 54 and Xenon, but I recall having a complete sensory overload, as the energy was so powerful in the room…To truly capture the essence of Indochine, you need to see it on a night not filled with supermodels, rock stars, and celebrities, but rather during their legendary staff Christmas parties. They are wild, theatrical and completely unique.” [© Used by permission; From Indochine published 2009 by Rizzoli International New York] Cindy Crawford: “Stephen Knoll threw this big bash for me at Indochine in early ’05. It was a total blowout, a “this could only happen in New York†kind of party. It had the beautiful people plus the eccentrics, the trannies, the Dirty Martini girl wearing the pasties. It didn’t let you down.” Stephen Knoll: “If you know that an event is going to be at Indochine, it’s going to be a great party. It’s going to be a good time. Indochine has the right vibe. I just felt like if there was any place to give a party in NY, that was the place for me.” Jorg Rae:“There must be some spice in the food that makes pregnant women give birth. Cindy Crawford, Sarah Jessica Parker, Christy Turlington, and recently Naomi Watts, gave birth within twelve to forty-eight hours of having a meal at Indochine. Probably just a coincidence, though. But then again…” Athena Calderone: “I went into labor at Indochine on Valentines night in 2003. I’ve heard a number of famous women also went into labor after eating there. It’s gone on to become a bit of an urban myth. Many women have asked me what I ate that night. It was the number 26, red snapper with spicy sweet and sour pimento sauce.” Padma Lakshmi: “The food is fantastic, and it’s pretty consistent. Not only is it delicious, but it’s pretty light and clean. So, if you’re trying to watch your weight, or detox from Top Chef, it’s not a bad place to go.” Roman Alonzo: “The food has never changed, but somehow we never got sick of it. How many of those spring rolls can you eat? A lot, I guess! I think its success has to do with the lighting too. It’s the most attractive lighting. We like to see each other in it.” Cindy Crawford: “When I lived in New York, in the Police Building, I’d go to Indochine on Sunday nights for takeout. It felt like the neighborhood place.” Ann Dexter-Jones: “I love the soups, the fish, especially the Chilean seabass-they cook it in this wonderful broth. And what’s nice is, and what I love about that kind of food is, everyone orders something different…it’s like eating off somebody else’s plate. I’m one of those people who wants what’s across the table, because I’d like to order everything. That’s why I love Asian food. I love to share. Having five children, just to eliminate any squabbles of what’s mine and what’s yours, I repeated my mantra to them: “We love to share, don’t we.— Fran Lebowitz: “The thing that I most like there are the dumplings. You’re supposed to share them, but I do not. And when people say, “Let’s get some dumplings,†I say: “Fine, let’s get some, and I will also get some.” [photo above: Marc Jacobs, © Used by permission; Photo by Arthur Elgort, 1991 From Indochine 2009 published by Rizzoli International, New York]

[bella's ®, Southside (L)] Anthony and Tom Martignetti will toast the 1st birthday of their Soho club, Southside, on November 5th (invite below). But what are they really celebrating? Besides its name, little about the venue has changed since the brothers brought a loyal preppy crowd to 1 Cleveland Place in 2006 with Bar Martignetti and its downstairs bar, Bella’s.* What’s actually being recognized next Thurdsay is a time-honored tactic used by bars to stay relevant in NYC by putting a fresh spin on the same old formula that brought them initial success. To pack in fickle New York crowds, clubs have to reinvent themselves. Even if a venue appears to be going strong (as Bella’s did when it became Southside last fall), overhauls are not unheard of. Still, as much as nightspots like to shed their own pasts, they often look back in time for inspiration. And so Southside mimicked the palm fronds and reservation policy of Bungalow 8, which itself recalled the tropical motif of Indochine, the cokey ’80s celeb magnet (who are celebrating their own 25th Anniversary with a party tonight at Bergdorfs). And of course, Bella’s was widely seen as a downtown satellite of pearl and pastel-friendly Dorrian’s. In their race to avoid becoming cliches, club owners constantly rely on a big one: everything old is new again.

Yesterday, Activision released DJ Hero, the latest in a wildly popular series of videogames (Guitar Hero, Rock Band) that let us drunkenly feign musical talent. Before you convince yourself of your spinning talent however, you should check out these legitimate NYC DJs as they get the club going. DJ James Murphy: The man behind LCD Soundsystem made disco cool again. As if that weren’t enough, Murphy also penned the melancholic “New York I Love You, But You’re Bringing Me Down,” this decade’s best paean to the city. Check out a party thrown by Murphy’s funky DFA label to get your Studio 54 on. The Misshapes: Hipsters across the city wept into their PBRs when the Misshapes infamous Friday night residence at Don Hill’s ended in 2007. But the trio continues to bring its slick mix of indie and britpop to festively-attired crowds at frequent local events. DJ Timmy Regisford: New York’s biggest contribution to the global club scene is the kind of deep, soulful house that this downtown fixture has spun for years at afterhours institution (in many ways) Club Shelter, now at Greenhouse. If you’ve never stepped out of a club and into the harsh sunlight, Regisford is the man to see. DJ Derek Plaslaiko: Murphy might have brought back the past, but Plaslaiko has his eyes set on the future. He honed his skills in Detroit’s thriving techno scene before settling in New York in 2004. You can catch him the first Friday of each month at Public Assembly’s sublime Bunker shindig. DJ Alexandra Richards: Daughter of immortal cryptkeeper Keith, Alexandra Richards is a girl about town who, when not posing for pictures, occasionally mans the DJ booth. She’s got the musical genes, but might want to drop the rock royalty ‘tude before she pisses off one club owner too many. DJ Connie: Queens native Connie Yin gets people dancing in clubs (Love, Sullivan Room, Cielo) and underground parties (thrown by Blk Market Membership) with her brand of Berlin-style minimal techno. She’s also taken it upon herself to break up New York’s testosterone-heavy DJ scene by teaching women how to spin like pros. - -

Go HERE for more photos by DYLAN ARMAJANI and tag yourself and your friends! Give credit to Diesel for upstaging its own famous denim in the name of a good party. Last night, the company celebrated its new line of glow-in-the-dark apparel with a Flash For Fun bash at Love, the neon and stalactite-themed Village club somehow reminiscent of both underground raves and Fraggle Rock. Diesel gave guests not form-fitting jeans, but glowsticks, face paint and fluorescent eyebrows. As the crowd swayed to house music pumped through Love’s sweet defibrillator of a soundsystem, a man dressed as a white bunny carried a translucent backpack full of glowing rave paraphernalia (the legal kind) and encouraged the packed room to go down the rabbit hole. (Vodka and beer courtesy of Diesel helped them along). Spank Rock was their “special guest,” emerging out of neon balloons. As things kicked into high gear and a line of expectant partiers outside continued to snake around the corner, one reveler, sans top, bravely straddled a cold tub of beer. Flash for fun, indeed. [Can Diesel Top The Biggest International Party Ever?] -

A big, family style dim sum restaurant is where most people go to eat away their hangovers. There’s no better fix for the the bleary-eyed masses than chicken feet wheeled straight out to their Lazy Susan-adorned tables. But in a brilliant business move, the folks down at Chinatown dim sum banquet hall 88 Palace have decided to not only cure hungover misery, but to cause it. Starting last fall, 88 Palace’s cavernous restaurant space has turned itself into a riotous club on select nights. *Revelers enter through what looks like a Chinese mall, ascend a flight of stairs and find themselves in the midst of one of Manhattan’s more frenetic dance floors. The music veers toward the electronic, though when we stumbled upon it during last week’s CMJ festival, upstart rock bands were also playing the eccentric, floor-through space. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * If the music and hipster-heavy crowd don’t transport you, the golden dragons lining the walls will. There’s also a full bar to whisk you away. And if you insist on lighting up, the mall’s nifty location directly under the Manhattan Bridge provides shelter from whatever storms come Chinatown’s way. 88 Palace not only restores our faith in mall entertainment (we’re looking at you Debbie Gibson), but let’s us nosh and hazily recall a good night’s memories in the same place they were formed. 88 Palace:*88 East Broadway [Photo via Nicky Digital].

Cipriani’s Upstairs. It was the spot of GofG’s first party post ever (when we caught a certain famous Mortimer flashing our camera’s way back in May of ‘07). This downtown institution has had it’s fair share of drama, but there’s no denying that it has managed to out stand the test of time, it’s Sunday night karoke parties is still one of the hottest games in town. So why are they closing their doors this Sunday?! Relax. Team Cipriani, made up of Giuseppe Cipriani and his sons Giuseppe and Maggio Cipriani, along with Max Burgio have a giant remodel up their sleeves. They plan on closing down their doors after this Sunday in order to redo the space which they will then re-open around Thanksgiving time. But not before they throw a giant party to celebrate. They are teaming up with Derek and Daniel Koch from The Dual Groupe to host a giant double header Halloween party. This Saturday, the first “Day & Night of the Living Dead” brunch will take place at Revel, the new location the boys moved to (from Merkato 55). Afterward, everyone will head to Cipriani Downtown Upstairs for “Day & Night HALLOWEEN” party. The renovations for the space will go into full swing after this party. Get your reservations this weekend, for one last look at the party spot you couldn’t get into when you first moved to NYC. Invites below…

New York’s highest court ruled yesterday that the owners of gargantuan apartment complexes Stuyvesant Town and Peter Cooper Village owe 4,000 of their tenants an estimated $200 million in damages after charging too much in rent. (Hey, New York’s highest court, when will I get my happy verdict?) There are many wise things the winners could do with this money, but why not spend it on food and booze at these nearby watering holes first? Keybar: 432 E. 13th Street The East Village bar scene is rife with happy hour deals. But when it comes to longevity, Keybar just might be tops: its 2-for-1 drink offer extends all the way to 10pm. The bartenders are friendly and alarmingly generous with their pours. Drinks range from martinis and (surprisingly good) Manhattans to German beers the size of your head. Weekends are to be avoided, but Peter Cooper and Stuy Town tenants are close enough to duck in during the week and beat the crowds. Artichoke Basille’s Pizza: 328 E. 14th Street Delighted food critics and locals just can’t get enough of this perpetually mobbed Staten Island import,*despite erratic hours and relatively hefty tabs. The immense, gooey artichoke slice and crispy sicilian squares draw the most raves, but Artichoke does a bang-up traditional pizza as well. Toast your settlement over a cold beer before taking your food on the road, because even the most modest Stuy Town apartments are probably bigger than this diminutive joint. Crocodile Lounge: 325 E. 14th Street There’s no reason to blow your share of the $200 million right away. Stay frugal at this 14th street bar, where beers are served alongside complimentary pizza. The pies aren’t exactly Artichoke quality, but who cares when they come as an award for drinking? You can keep a record of your big celebration with a turn in Crocodile Lounge’s photo booth. And if you feel like adding to your big haul, try your hand at trivia on Wednesday nights at 8:30pm.

Author Teri Woods is suing SoHo’s eco-friendly nightclub Greenhouse for $1 billion, claiming doormen refused entry to her and 175 guests she’d invited to a book release party because they were black. But a tipster tells us that owner Barry Mullineaux might have a more pressing problem on his hands, in the form of a triple stabbing. Writes our source: “stabbing happened @ Greenhouse Sunday Morning/after Saturday night, 3 people were knifed, one was a bouncer and one person was stabbed 3 times. Police locked everyone in for a while, crime scene. Guy got it near the heart.” Guest of a Guest is awaiting confirmation on this report. Of course, it’s terrible news if true. It might also explain why Woods and her friends were denied entry. (The alleged events occurred on the same night.) And it goes to show that, sometimes, the only thing worse than being kept out of a club is being locked in.

The annual CMJ Music Marathon & Film Festival has taken over the city once again. Starting last night, hundreds of bands, some established and many destined to be the next big thing, swarmed the city’s bars, clubs and concerts halls for the festival, which runs through October 24th. Music, of course, is the main focus. But an event like this also means partying. And if an upstart act doesn’t happen to land a record deal, he or she might as well get some lovin’. So why not help them out? The following spots are all located near CMJ venues and should give you a chance of celebrating with the talent after a successful show and cheering them up after a bust:* See a show at Music Hall of Williamsburg, then embrace Hugs Dyspeptic Brooklyn Vegan commenters routinely slam this bar down the street from major venue the Music Hall of Williamsburg. But then, they slam everything. Sometimes convenience is all you really want in an afterparty, and Hugs delivers. A long, narrow railroad car of a watering hole, Hugs lures in the Billyburg crowd with solid music and a relatively spacious backroom where they can stretch their emaciated legs. Best of all, Hugs offers skeeball-a bonus for everyone, and the closest many exercise-averse rock stars will ever get to a workout. Music Hall of Williamsburg: 66 N. 6th Street Hugs: 106 N. 6th Street Catch a band at Bowery Poetry Club, then party at Bowery Electric Better known as a place to hear the spoken word, Bowery Poetry Club is hosting a ton of musical acts during CMJ. If you want to follow up a BPC show at place with strictly musical roots, hop across the street to Bowery Electric. Owners Mike Stutu, Jesse Malin and Johnny T have an impressive roster of East Village rock joints (HiFi, Cabin Down Below, Black and White, Niagra and the dearly departed Coney Island High) to their credit. It’s not quite CBGBs (sigh), but on a stretch of the Bowery jam-packed with newish nightspots, Electric comes the closest to reviving that club’s punk spirit. Bowery Poetry Club: 308 Bowery Bowery Electric: 327 Bowery Rock out at Mercury Lounge, then gulp down a beer at Max Fish Mercury Lounge’s setup famously requires bands to wade through its crowded front bar to exit the venue. If you can’t catch the eye of that cute, scruffy rocker then, well, you might be in for a night of teary-eyed crocheting. But, if undeterred, head around the corner to Max Fish, the oldie but goodie on Ludlow Street. Max Fish isn’t exactly a secret these days, but the Fedora-wearing guitar crowd can still be found slinging back $2 PBRs under its painfully bright lights. If you fail at love again, mope on over to Katz’s for a different kind of salami fix. Mercury Lounge: 217 East Houston Street Max Fish 178 Ludlow Street Check out Le Poisson Rouge, then get down at Sullivan Room Bleecker Street’s Le Poisson Rouge offers some much-needed relief from the tourists and undergrads who clog the strip. Progressive musicians who play LPR will probably look for a similar NYUville refuge to take their nightcaps. Sullivan Room is one of the central Village’s best options. Music in this subterranean lair veers toward the electronic, perfect for those looking to change it up from CMJ’s predominantly indie rock programming. Le Poisson Rouge: 158 Bleecker Street Sullivan Street: 218 Sullivan Street Be cool at Bowery Ballroom, then get steamed up at Hppy Ending Happy Ending takes its name from the…unorthodox massages that went down at its address, which once belonged to an illicit spa. The masseurs might be gone, but the owners kept some old basement steam rooms intact. They’re the perfect places to unwind from the manic dance parties that take over both floors of this lounge. So if a show at the Bowery Ballroom leaves you hot and bothered, head here for an imaginary schvitz. If you’re lucky, a fledgling rock star might give you a happy ending of your own. Bowery Ballroom: 6 Delancey Street Happy Ending: 302 Broome Street Cut a rug at Santos Party House, then stay put. Sometimes, the best afterparties are the ones where you don’t have to leave the before party. Chinatown’s massive Santos Party House has room for some seriously eclectic programming that will keep you there all night and into the early morning. If you love hipsters, Santos is literally crawling with them. Not your thing? Take comfort in music spanning rock, rap, disco, house and techno across Santos two spacious floors. Santos Party House: 96 Lafayette Street

Last October, Diesel threw an event it called the “biggest international party ever,” with a shindig that started in Tokyo and touched down on fifteen other cities before a big Brooklyn finale. Now, the denim purveyors are at it again with an open bar bash scheduled for October 27th. Where, you ask? Well, the location is being kept a secret. If you want to know where we’ll all be the 27th, you can try to ask “The Baron” at Diesel’s Union Square store. But chances are he’ll just give you a bracelet (essential for admission) with a number to call and a Twitter account to follow for all the details. Check out Kayne West’s latest appearance at the last Diesel party from July, ‘09 HERE. [Photo via David Hsu]

The team behind absinthe-centric Chinatown lounge Apotheke just got cleared to open Pulqueria, a taco and margarita joint next door on Doyers Street. Pulqueria might seem like an affront on the area’s innumerable dumpling holes-in-the-wall and noodle shops. But it’s really just another instance of NYC bars, restaurants and clandestine strip clubs operating in unexpected places. Some of the spots below are stubborn holdouts. Others are examples of neighborhood imperialism. But all make for pleasant detours from the scenes that surround them…. Milady’s: 160 Spring Street If you need a break from SoHo’s pricey boutiques, bypass the hood’s similarly upscale restaurants and lounges and hit this Spring Street outlier. The no-frills Milady’s has gruff barmaids, a well-worn pool table and, speaking of bypasses, pub grub like cheese fries and mozzarella sticks. Don’t worry about looking too unfashionable either: no less a style icon than Kate Moss has ducked into (only to be tossed out of) this laid back oasis. Jimmy’s Corner: 140 West 44th Street For New Yorkers, avoiding tourist-clogged Times Square is practically a blood sport. But if you should ever find yourself among lost in the lost, shuffling crowds, get yourself to this magnificent anachronism. Jimmy’s Corner owes its intense boxing theme to owner and professional trainer Jimmy Glenn. (The ringside photos lining the walls are practically sepia-toned.) You’ll find Jimmy and his family serving dirt cheap drinks behind the bar, a friendly crowd of regulars and an unbeatable jukebox playing music from a time when Times Square was known for an entirely different class of streetwalker. Allen & Delancey: The LES might have lost much of its edge, but Allen & Delancey sticks out for its welcome dose of grownup refinement. Opened in 2007 by uptown chef Neil Ferguson (who holds the dubious distinction of being one of the many minions fired by renowned lunatic Gordon Ramsey), the restaurant has since changed hands. But its sophisticated-yet-unfussy Anglo/New American food and romantic, candlelit digs (think posh bordello) still offer a nice alternative to the Lower East Side routine. 2nd Avenue Deli: 162 East 33rd Street The 55 year-old 2nd Avenue Deli survived the tragic murder of owner Abe Lebewohl in 1996, but lost a landlord dispute two years ago. Forced to move off its titular location in the East Village, the adored Jewish deli moved uptown to a Murray Hill side street off of not 2nd, but 3rd Avenue. Any resulting confusion will be put to rest upon tasting the landmark’s famous corned beef, pastrami and matzoh-ball soup. Wash it all down with an egg cream, forget how the city’s ruthless real estate market often threatens icons like this and be glad it survived in any form. 92nd Street Y Tribeca: 200 Hudson Street The original 92nd Street Y on the Upper East Side is famous for its big time culture events and a preschool whose hyper-competitive admissions process strikes fear in the hearts of well-heeled parents citywide. The Tribeca annex, opened just last year, keeps the street in its name (because Hudson Street Y clearly lacks gravitas). 92YTribeca shoots for a younger audience with under-the-radar film screenings and live performances. (Tireless Brooklyn indie rock promoter Todd P throws concerts here.) There’s also a full bar to keep the lushes happy and console downtown parents whose tots didn’t make the cut uptown. Cordato’s: 94 Greenwich Street Because even the staid Financial District needs a neo-speakeasy. Initially, Cordato’s looks like the bodegas on every other block in Manhattan. But walk past the rows of neatly stacked Pringles, go through an unmarked door and you’ll suddenly find yourself getting a lap dance in the deli’s dimly lit backroom. Some visitors claim the nudity has become as watered down as the bar’s drinks. That’s what you get when the neighbors start complaining. But whether you’re leaving the trading floor or a construction site, Cordato’s is the most unique nightspot in a neighborhood largely devoid of them.

Orchard Street rock bar The Annex is dead and buried. Although the place had gone downhill, its closure still qualifies as a footnote to the ever-expanding obit of Lower East Side cool. But maybe it shouldn’t. In its heyday, The Annex threw some great parties: Ruff Club (a VERY sweaty electro bash), tiswas (an indie rock affair) and, briefly, LESS (for the techno heads). But it also had dapper doormen charging a cover to get beyond a velvet rope and into the self-consciously dumpy venue. Despite its musical cred (secured once and for all when Taylor Momsen’s band played there), The Annex was one of those places that took the idea of downtown authenticity (whatever that means), dragged it into the shower and sold it to the gullible Cheap Mondays crowd. (Disclosure: I fell for it, hard.) The bi-level space is being taken over by the Doghouse Saloon, a TV-laden sports bar complete with beer pong. Even three years ago, a place like Doghouse would be cloaked in hipster irony. These days, the area happily caters to Murray Hillbillies looking for a safe alternative to The Joshua Tree. For better or worse though, beer pong is now a more honest approach to the LES than any venue trying to reclaim the hood’s bohemian past. [Photos by NickyDigital]

Noise complaints. Smoking violations. Drug raids. Illegal dancing. As soon as a New York nightclub generates buzz these days, the fuzz isn’t far behind. So if your night out at one of the below hotspots is interrupted by the cops, cantankerous neighbors or the Department of Health, it’s good to have a Plan B in mind with some like-minded alternatives: If you like the Jane Ballroom, you’ll love the Bowery Ballroom: The Bowery Ballroom’s crowd might not be as swank as the Jane’s, but its gorgeous interior–including, like the Jane, a swell balcony and giant disco ball– is. The rock-centric music institution has some of the best bookings in town. Also, you can dance inside without worrying about Footloose-style repercussions (seriously, when will NYC’s ludicrous cabaret laws be overturned?) and the Jane’s neighbors who actually started a blog to chronicle their complaints about the endangered venue. The Bowery Ballroom, 6 Delancey Street If you like The Box, you’ll love The Slipper Room: Just a stone’s throw away from Simon Hammerstein’s embattled burlesque boite, The Slipper Room lets you see many of The Box’s performers hone their twisted acts on a smaller stage and at a fraction of the price. Tuesday is standup up night and burlesque runs Wednesday through Saturday. Just leave your drugs at home so the joint can avoid Box-style raids and scathing New York magazine profiles. The Slipper Room, 167 Orchard Street If you like(d) Beatrice Inn, you’ll love Cabin Down Below: Chainsmoking hipsters displaced by the closure of Paul Sevigny’s louche dance den can seek refuge at this East Village hideaway. Like Beatrice, Cabin has indie cred to spare: co-owners include Jesse Malin (who ran deceased punk mecca Coney Island High) and Matt Romano (a member of Strokes guitarist Albert Hammond Jr.’s side project). Beatrice was housed in a former Italian restaurant; Cabin runs underneath The Pizza Shop. And what better way to top off a night of celebrity spotting than a hot slice and a cold drink? Cabin Down Below, 110 Avenue A (through The Pizza Shop and down the stairs) If you like the Cooper Square Hotel rooftop, you’ll love Mé Bar When the Cooper Square Hotel opened last spring, its neighbors were not too pleased. So when the hotel’s rooftop bar brought in noisy summer crowds, the tenants reacted the way any reasonable New Yorkers would and…strung soiled laundry above the braying patrons. If you like your high altitude drinking a bit less pungent, head off the beaten track to Mé Bar in the heart of Koreatown. With only the Empire State Building to interrupt your stargazing, you’ll be set for a fresher night out. Mé Bar, 17 West 32nd Street, 14th Floor If you like Rose Bar, you’ll love The Crosby Street Hotel: Rose Bar’s pedigree is tough to beat. Though scandal-free, chances are you’ll want a Plan B when you don’t get in. Located in the swank Gramercy Park Hotel, the bar’s nearly impenetrable door, pretty people and even prettier art by the likes of Warhol and co-owner Julian Schnabel have kept it at the top of the heap since it opened in 2006. It’s about time a challenger stepped in. Enter the Crosby Street Hotel, a spanking new lodging on a (relatively) quiet stretch of SoHo. The place is too green for us to really gauge its popularity, but if the hotel bar scene hasn’t reached a saturation point, the boldfaced will descend on Crosby soon. Crosby Street Hotel, 79 Crosby Street If you like Southside, you’ll love B.East: As with Southside, B.East sits beneath a restaurant and entails stumbling down a dimly lit stairwell to find a dance-happy shoebox of a bar. However, the scene here is more Leigh Lezark than Lily Pulitzer. And the doormen are more forgiving than Southside’s recently acquired Disco. Located along the relatively ungentrified Chinatown/Lower East Side border, B.East is the perfect alternative spot for slumming preppies looking to ditch khaki and pearls for skinny jeans and bangels. B.East, 171 East Broadway (beneath Broadway East restaurant).

Sometimes it seems like you can divide downtown bars into two categories: those that thrive on celebrities and those that shun them. The trendy spots are pretty obvious, although in constant flux. The Box, Beatrice Inn and Jane Ballroom are all recent Page 6 magnets. But what happens when the Botox-and-Restylane set leaves its comfort zone and mingles with the proles? Mars Bar is one of the unlikeliest celebrity joints in Manhattan. It’s a punk relic of the East Village, with bathrooms that haven’t been cleaned since the Reagan administration and a crew of antique regulars that might predate the East Village itself. So it came as a surprise when Drew Barrymore dropped by in August for a Nylon photoshoot. And then again when “preternaturally pretty” Gossip Girl actor Penn Badgley sat down with a Times reporter for a Sunday Styles profile. When a glossy star visits a filthy dive, does it boost the celebrity’s cred or hurt the bar’s? In the case of Mars Bar, most patrons are either too old to know who Drew or Penn are, too blitzed to recognize them or too cool to care. Besides, with “Mars Bar: The Last Bastion of Indecency” scrawled in marker across its door, you can’t expect the place to go all reverse snob and actually keep anyone out. It’s easier for rich actors to take a step down the nightlife ladder than for the unwashed masses to climb it. But as long as there’s enough warmed over Budweiser to keep Mars Bar going, crusty barflies and famous interlopers should be happy.

[Disco mans the door at Bungalow 8] Last fall, when Southside first opened, we wondered if Anthony Martignetti’s newest role was channeling Amy Sacco.After giving the basement of his Center and Broome St. “Bar Martignetti’s” from “Bellas” into “Southside” we noticed quite a few similarities from another hotspot…Bungalow 8.First Anthony swiped Amy’s palm trees and black tiles. Now he’s stealing her doorman, Disco. Sacco’s Bungalow 8, rumored to be closed last week but actually just renovating, has lent its imposing gatekeeper to Martignetti’s Harvard-friendly SoHo lounge. Southside’s never had the mystique that Bungalow did in its prime, but maybe this move (however temporary) could boost the cache of the hotspot and the anticipated re-opening of it’s upstairs bar to be named “Brinkley’s.“* No word on the whereabouts of Q, Southside’s beloved longtime bouncer, but if Bungalow 8’s history on 27th Street is any indication, Disco will bring a seriously tough door and a raft of imitators to Centre Street, which will eventually morph into a well-paved, police-patroled vomitorium. A quick recap of some other doormen can be found HERE. Bungalow 8 on the left columns, Southside on the right.

[The Guest of a Guest Holiday '08 Party at Bungalow 8] Say it ‘aint so! Today, CityFile reports that Bungalow 8, the nightclub that opened in 2001 and was the inspiration for this very site, was laid to rest last week. While nothing is official yet, the club, and the street it started, have been dead for quite some time.* In it’s honor, we decided to take a look back on some of our favorite Bungalow memories…. “Bungalow 8 is nothing more than an old building in Chelsea, with potted palmetto trees, faded black and white striped/polka dotted booths, and painted walls that are supposed to make you feel like you are in a cottage at the Beverly Hills Hotel. The “No Vacancy†sign over its door is to remind you that there’s no room for you…unless of course there is, which is entirely up to Disco. The location and decor are irrelevant at this point…because it is the people that bring those walls to life that have made Sacco’s creation a legendary institution.” [via] -Paying Homage to our Inspiration: Bungalow 8 [Post] -Zelda Kaplan holds her court at Bungalow 8 [Post] -Bungalow 8 Reincarnation: your favorite memories [Post #1] [Post #2] -The Reincarnation of Bungalow 8, the Makeover Files [Post] -The most candid memory yet [Post] -Halloween at Bungalow 8 [Post] We’ve had quite the run at Bungalow. Here’s to one of the best!

If there’s one thing New Yorkers love more than New York, it’s complaining about it. Those weary of the city’s gentrified sheen often fix their rose-colored glasses on the vibrant ‘80s—artists! music! cheap rent!—while forgetting the decades’s woes. Berlin recaptures the frenetic cultural vitality of 1980s New York better than any other city. Broke artists squat in abandoned buildings. Graffiti proliferates. Music wails. The city’s 24/7 club culture is a democracy uncompromised by bottle service. In Berlin, nightlife is a church. And techno is its choir. There are signs that things are coming full circle. The following parties, clubs and promoters replicate Berlin’s underground, afterhours club culture in New York, all to a techno beat: Bunker: 70 north 6th. street. Once a weekly party on the Lower East Side, Bunker is now a monthly bash in Williamsburg, right by the Bedford Avenue L Stop. What Bunker’s lost in quantity it’s gained in quality, recruiting an impeccable roster of international DJ talent (often from, yes, Berlin) to take over two rooms at Public Assembly. The music is top-notch, the drinks are cheap and the whole crowd dances straight through 6am. Essential: Chinatown loft. Not just a dance party, the Essential soiree adds art (photography, painting, sculpture, hallucinatory wall projections) and, the last time I was there, a stylist giving free haircuts into the mix. Usually held in a cavernous Chinatown loft, Essential is perfect for those looking to kick the night off early (Saturday, 2pm) and wrap it up late (Sunday, 6am). Blk|Market Membership: Various locations. Blk|Market is the city’s most consistent techno crew. Venues vary—a SoHo rooftop here, a Village club there. But the gang saves its best for epic hoedowns at “secret locations†(usually a warehouse in Bushwick or, for the faint of heart, East Williamsburg) that typically run from 10pm ‘til noon. They’re marathons, but the friendly crowd, rowdy DJs and unique setting make them feel like sprints. White Slab Palace/Stay: 77 Delancey St. and 244 E. Houston. Let’s face it: New Yorkers like the occasional dose of exclusiveness. These two Lower East Side bars jump on the faux-speakeasy bandwagon with hidden annexes that frequently cater to the electronic crowd. The digs are intimate to say the least, but that just means you can pat yourself on the back for finding them at all. Bonus for the workday hangover-immune: techno nights at both venues fall midweek. Sunday Best/Warm Up: 400 Carroll St. and 4601 21st st. Long Island City. What could be more reminiscent of post-industrial Berlin than midday “tea parties†at a Superfund site (Sunday Best, at the Brooklyn Yard) and a long-abandoned public school (Warm-Up at P.S. 1)? These weekly alfresco shindigs only last the summer, but their lineups run the musical gamut from techno to rock to disco. Regardless of the headliner, nothing beats watching a sunset from the dancefloor. Ultimately, New Yorkers tempted by the “next big thing†should just stay put. Berlin may be the new New York, but could New York be the next Berlin?

What do you get when you mix the crazy acts from the Box with a mega tri-level interactive theatre in the heart of times square? Definitely not heaven, but maybe not as bad as hell (?)…no, you get “Purgatorio” care of Simon Hammerstein and company. Technically, it’s a haunted house from the same minds that brought you the acts at the box. And, “If 30 percent of the people are so frightened they run out on opening night, I’ll consider it a smashing success.” -says Hammerstein. Read more below… “It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity to experience death. The fear is very real.” The club’s real fun begins after the messy business of actually dying is over. Once dead, guests can reunite with their friends and proceed through a lounge called Hell, a theater called Purgatory and a disco called Heaven. Unlike other haunted houses in the city, guests are free to go through Purgatorio at their own pace. They are encouraged to drink heavily and linger in Purgatory, told they won’t be admitted to Heaven until they purge themselves of sin through utter intoxication. The club is also open to the public in a way that The Box will never be, with tickets for sale from $40 to $80 at enterpurgatorio.com — and no velvet rope. via NYPost.