"You can define a dive bar in hundreds of ways."
“We all have to work tomorrow…”
You can define a dive bar in hundreds of ways. Any vice cocoon where people undress themselves of work, taxes and in-laws with dim lights and booze shapes an exclusive experience like those tights made to look like jeans…perfect for every occasion!
I personally avoid dives. Since the hipsters, knighted with beards and PBR, began to dabble with the salt-of–the-earth trip, I can’t get my drink on with these tools slumming for cred through osmosis.
Tiny’s Restaurant is no dive. Maybe it’s the décor (70s swinger), the location (strip mall bars speak for themselves) or live music (Bingo). Understand….this is no Tipitina’s, Greek Theatre…it’s a restaurant—more scheeeps?—the whole nine. But for some unexplainable reason, it is a place where I love to hear live music.
True. It has everything to do with the actual band playing the music—tonight it’s Broomdust Caravan with Anthony Leon in the mix…it’s their steady Thursday night gig—but the bar, booths and patchwork room lights give it the perfect musical walk-of-shame appeal.
The place is manageable. Spinning records has my respect; singer-songwriters will always have an audience with me; karaoke and cover bands—bring it on… but shit if I don’t want to hear Johnny Cash with a drink in my hand without making a big deal out of it on weeknight.
Maybe I’m lamenting the recent closing of Corazon. In a town this size, it’s a blow no matter how you slice it—no one likes to see a local business close its doors. I suppose this is why I have such an emotional tug to places like Tiny’s, Cowgirl or El Farol (my gracious radio show hosts). They seem immovable, which only strengthens my commitment to support them more.
The Broomdust Caravan, Thursday nights at Tiny’s…don’t miss out.