The Bar: Trash 

256 Grand St, 718-599-1000
Cheapest Drink: PBR (duh), $2 after midnight
Most Expensive Drink: Clynelish, $10
Extras: Leather seats, power windows, AM/FM capabilities

A few years ago the space occupied by Trash Bar was called Luxx, a magenta and orange tinged club that resembled a cross between a chrome-plated retro diner, a roller derby and a touch of Ibiza. For about forty meaningful seconds in 2001, Luxx helped spawn "electroclash," the bastard son of electronica and punk. Luxx closed in 2003, reopened for another minute as Toy Boxx, a gay bar, before everyone finally ran home to Berlin. When Trash Bar opened a year ago, the owners recycled the Eurotrash into white trash, or at least the simulacra of white trash that somehow invites trendy consumption.

Hot dogs, tater tots, trucker hats, NASCAR posters, PBR bronzed, emblazoned and cheap. That whole thing. Plus, leather cab seats from minivans and trucks as seats, a gimmick that, admittedly, is pretty fucking cool. What’s annoying here is that the décor is not so much predictable as inevitable, the sum of Williamsburg’s notorious parts. Once you get over that (and its not hard when they offer an hour of open bar if you pay the $6 music cover) Trash is both a quality and comfortable venue.

The stage is set off in the back, behind a hall and doorway, so those not in the mood for music can watch a game at the bar and shoot pool. The music featured is all Brooklyn scenester and indie, not the Fischerspooner of classic electroclash. Though it was so unheralded in Luxx, it looks like straight up rock has won the day here. That’s ‘cause this is America, baby, or at least a bad rip-off of it. Christopher Ludwig

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