Barbès

Last night we—Christie, Julie, Veronica, and I...plus George, a videographer who worked with Christie on a great project in Vietnam—went to a very cool spot in Park Slope, about 10 minutes from my apartment. Up front, Barbès feels like a wine bar: narrow, low lights, tall stools, lots of bottles. In back, it's a small performance space: worn wood floors, red pressed-tin ceilings, plastic prayer flags, a couple tables, a carnivalesque mural, a few chairs, a neon sign that says "Hotel D'Orsay," and enough room for a band and about 40 people. Almost every night, 7 days a week, people perform here. Guzheng players. Mexican brass bands. Gypsy swing. Guinean jazz. Old-timey twang. We got to listen to the Stagger Back Brass Band, which was described like so: "An entire carnival distilled into musical form or a drunk who's had too much coffee, Stagger Back Brass Band specializes in intentional self-destruction, rumpus-raising booty-beats, and lovely melodies for high-wire acts. We encourage costumery and dress-uppery...."

Our little group didn't engage in any dress-uppery, but we did raise a bit of rumpus. We had a collective New York moment when we started thinking about how we were in this little bar, and there are little bars all over NY, with bands and little crowds, playing music of all kinds, and dancing and drinking, and this shit happens all the time.

Just wanted to post a few (grainy) cell-phone pics. It felt like the kind of place I'd go to every night, if I could.


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(Christie, Julie, me, V)