I used to be the nightlife columnist for a newspaper. The column was called Five O’Clock World, after the old Vogues song. I’ve already explained this a gajillion times, so won’t bore you with the details again. The following is a club report I wrote in 2005. I’m posting it as a tribute to my departed friend, Josh Barber. Cheers, Josh.
Five O’Clock World
Was (Not Was)
Copyright © 2014 SYDNEY SCHUSTER – All Rights Reserved
Old clubs around here never die. It seems they just change names and reopen with different management. Such is the case with a couple of “new” lounges I checked out.
The first was Rusty’s (Wave Ave., Middletown), which in a former incarnation was the popular neighborhood watering hole called Overflo’s.
Though it has changed hands as well as names, everything at Rusty’s seemed comfortably the same on a recent Saturday night: the usual highly animated customers; a local band from the regular rotation; the familiar cheesy decor; the squirming line outside the miniature restroom; the rutted, parked-out parking lot.
As ever, the place was jammed. A cadre of loopettes commandeered the dance floor, boogying manlessly to driving rock‘n’roll and R&B tunes. The band providing them was Smokestack Lightning, the totally awesome project of Jamestown’s Josh Barber. A guitarist who’s a devotee of Stevie Ray and Jimmie Vaughan, Barber possesses staggering musical ability all his own that belies his tender age (25). Plus he’s really cute, which explains all the chicks.
As it turns out, one critical element of Rusty’s is different. I ordered a straight margarita and received — check it out — a straight margarita. I couldn’t remember the last time a bartender didn’t load up my margarita with ice and other useless crud. Score!
The way Rusty’s is losing money on the bar, you better go before you have to call it “the place that used to be Rusty’s.”
Being from a land where businesses stubbornly remain in the same families for all eternity, I find it amusing how the natives here describe everything in terms of what it used to be (as in “the place that used to be Overflo’s”). So don’t be surprised when you phone the new club Area Venue (3 River Lane), and the recording assures you “it’s where the back door of Friends used to be.”
Like Rusty’s, Area Venue lived a prior existence (in addition to Friends, apparently) as a place called Area 22. It was bigger then, and its front door on Broadway was easier to find. Area Venue is about half the size of Area 22 and its front door, to be honest, is in an alley. An alley exactly like the one with the bistro where Buffy and Principal Wood battled vampires on their first date.
Spooky? Kind of. But on the plus side, no vampires here yet. And Area Venue’s dance floor is now the perfect size. Its stage is elevated so that overwound drunks can’t slam into the band, only each other, as it should be.
The bar is on sort of a terrace that offers terrific people-watching opps for armchair dancers like me. No margaritas, alas, but you got your beer, wine, champagne, sake, juice, and endless combinations thereof. The bartender is indefatigably cheerful.
It’s all charmingly reminiscent of the punk-era pubs of London, especially the bathrooms. Not only don’t the stalls lock, but they have swinging saloon-style doors — the better to see you with, my dear.
Despite this one drawback (or value add, depending on your perspective), it’s just incomprehensible why a place this awesome is flat empty on a Saturday night.
Remembering the great wriggling hordes at Rusty’s, I ask the bartender whither Area Venue’s. Well, it’s been open for barely a couple of cold, nasty months, she explains, and “we’ve only had our liquor license for two weeks.” Another mitigating factor, she says, is that “people travel in clusters, following ‘their’ bands around. When we get an out-of-town band, it’s tough.” Ah, Newport — every touring band’s dream.
Indeed, the night’s music is provided by a New Jersey group, The Commons. They’re plenty good enough, playing original dance material for their sound check when we walk in at 9:30. They stop playing at 10:15, presumably to wait for more customers to arrive.
Now the band’s at the bar with us, drinking suds and watching “Design on a Dime” on the huge flat screen. (“Here, you hold the remote,” the bartender told me and then promptly regretted it.)
Me, I think an imported band is a fine reason to go anywhere. I hope others cluster on over to Area Venue, because I like this place and want it to stay open, swinging doors and all.
Text, Art & Photo Copyright © 2014 SYDNEY SCHUSTER – All Rights Reserved
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