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From an owner at trendy neighborhood spots like Welcome to the Johnsons and St. Jerome's comes this below-the-radar late-night haunt. There’s no sign, just a shady staircase covered in graffiti leading down to an unmarked entrance. Once inside, you’ll find all the trappings of a sleek seventies rec room—vinyl wraparound couches, amber bead curtains, and glossy mod lamps—and the messily coiffed, sleaze-chic crowd to match. The drinks (and drink prices) are standard. Bartenders can be standoffish—or nowhere to be found—and the crowd of local regulars (of the post-gentrification variety) get preferential treatment. Music ranges from Guns N' Roses to angry girl punk—but never strays far from the irony-laden, hard-rock mainstream. — Sara Cardace