Texans have never really had a "drinking" or "party" culture like, say, Boston, New Orleans, or Los Angeles. But we're catching up quickly, especially in Austin. Travis County imbibes more than any other in the state, and alcohol sales saw a 50 percent jump in just the past seven years.
Part of it relates to Austin's unyielding growth. If we can't have cheap rents and "authenticity" anymore, at least give us places to drown our yuppie sorrows. There are a few "classic" bars still around, but the destructive Godzilla that is progress has seen more than a few places crumble. The local favorites that seem like they've been around forever are really just ten years old, if that, and the ever-evolving "us" would very much prefer the obvious "them" to stay away (they won't). Worse, all new places seem to come prepackaged for a johnny-come-lately clientele that, at best, wants "hip" and "dive-y" without any of the hassles. The drinking areas have developed like landing strips in certain neighborhoods.
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Cynicism aside, there's never been a better time to be a drinker in Austin. Livers can be pickled without going broke, and those nights, if remembered, will be looked upon fondly as the best mistakes you could safely make.White Horse
The epicenter of what you might-could call "New Austin," White Horse is where a local will take an out-of-towner to meet other "locals" (no one's from here any more). It will be crowded and glorious, and you'll meet just about every type of Austinite— the vaguely fratty college kids adventuring away from "Dirty Sixth," the aging squares and old Austin hippies, the young kids in hipsterish threads, the annoyingly fashionable nouveau riche from the tech sector, some colorful weirdos. A condominium now looms over the building, and the owners recently replaced the piss trough with urinals (goddamn gentrification). That said, the bartenders bust hump, and the music, leaning hard on the honky-tonk vibe without ever feeling creaky, is rock-solid every night. A cowboy on an actual white horse might show up, someone will definitely be banging on the beat-up piano in the back, and there's a popcorn machine. Only assholes have a bad time here.
The epicenter of what you might-could call "New Austin," White Horse is where a local will take an out-of-towner to meet other "locals" (no one's from here any more). It will be crowded and glorious, and you'll meet just about every type of Austinite— the vaguely fratty college kids adventuring away from "Dirty Sixth," the aging squares and old Austin hippies, the young kids in hipsterish threads, the annoyingly fashionable nouveau riche from the tech sector, some colorful weirdos. A condominium now looms over the building, and the owners recently replaced the piss trough with urinals (goddamn gentrification). That said, the bartenders bust hump, and the music, leaning hard on the honky-tonk vibe without ever feeling creaky, is rock-solid every night. A cowboy on an actual white horse might show up, someone will definitely be banging on the beat-up piano in the back, and there's a popcorn machine. Only assholes have a bad time here.
White Horse. Photo by Ben Sklar
The Side Bar
The first few times you go to Side Bar, you will have forgotten you went to Side Bar. The notion will be there, but the rest, a blur —if you're lucky. No one says "let's go to Side Bar" with any intention apart from being beaten senseless by their own youthful regrets. The inside is dim, even for bar standards, and booze spreads across the floor like blood in a slaughterhouse. Thanks to development, a 12-foot tall cinder-block perimeter was erected, which makes its patio look like a prison yard for college dropouts and kitchen hands. If you don't witness gravity taking revenge against at least one unsteady soul, you're in the wrong bar. Unless you like jail, or the clinic, this should be your only/ last stop of the night. Yellow Jacket Social Club
There once was an idea of what "cool Austin" was, and its spark was Yellow Jacket. Pretty much everyone there will have more tats than you, which is OK, since you're really just there to sit outside on the patio with an idyllic canopy of bamboo and trees overhead. Every third person in Austin has had one of their Tinder pictures taken beside the foliage. Needless to say, these people are not regulars, who all appear to, and might actually, be part of the coolest proto-psychobilly/punk-looking biker gang since the Wild Angels. These regulars are mostly indistinguishable from the staff members, who will pretty much look at your with a bored, thousand-yard stare, as is their right. For a place that specializes in cheap beer and well whiskey, Yellow Jacket has a surprisingly solid food menu as well. Like every other place in Austin, this old and odd missionary-style building beside the train tracks is now dwarfed on two sides by condos. No matter. Yellow Jacket is a great place, where day drinking inevitably turns into night drinking. Just don't be a dick. Jackalope
This is pretty much the one place on "Dirty Sixth" that doesn't suck. Despite being on the main party strip full of douchebag bars blasting bland rock music on the inside and annoying shot barkers advertising disgusting concoctions by the door, outside, Jackalope keeps it real. And porny! Apart from the lovely and artistic erotica paintings lining the walls, the movies playing on the back-patio TV are the most violent, smut-oozing productions the world's finest cine-freaks have to offer. The attached New Haven-ish style pizza place with a street-side counter is pretty damn decent, and people swear by the burger inside, even after they sober up. In the hellish oasis of bland party bars full of bros and indiscriminate night-trippers, Jackalope has that rough and worn edge that feels like home.
The first few times you go to Side Bar, you will have forgotten you went to Side Bar. The notion will be there, but the rest, a blur —if you're lucky. No one says "let's go to Side Bar" with any intention apart from being beaten senseless by their own youthful regrets. The inside is dim, even for bar standards, and booze spreads across the floor like blood in a slaughterhouse. Thanks to development, a 12-foot tall cinder-block perimeter was erected, which makes its patio look like a prison yard for college dropouts and kitchen hands. If you don't witness gravity taking revenge against at least one unsteady soul, you're in the wrong bar. Unless you like jail, or the clinic, this should be your only/ last stop of the night. Yellow Jacket Social Club
There once was an idea of what "cool Austin" was, and its spark was Yellow Jacket. Pretty much everyone there will have more tats than you, which is OK, since you're really just there to sit outside on the patio with an idyllic canopy of bamboo and trees overhead. Every third person in Austin has had one of their Tinder pictures taken beside the foliage. Needless to say, these people are not regulars, who all appear to, and might actually, be part of the coolest proto-psychobilly/punk-looking biker gang since the Wild Angels. These regulars are mostly indistinguishable from the staff members, who will pretty much look at your with a bored, thousand-yard stare, as is their right. For a place that specializes in cheap beer and well whiskey, Yellow Jacket has a surprisingly solid food menu as well. Like every other place in Austin, this old and odd missionary-style building beside the train tracks is now dwarfed on two sides by condos. No matter. Yellow Jacket is a great place, where day drinking inevitably turns into night drinking. Just don't be a dick. Jackalope
This is pretty much the one place on "Dirty Sixth" that doesn't suck. Despite being on the main party strip full of douchebag bars blasting bland rock music on the inside and annoying shot barkers advertising disgusting concoctions by the door, outside, Jackalope keeps it real. And porny! Apart from the lovely and artistic erotica paintings lining the walls, the movies playing on the back-patio TV are the most violent, smut-oozing productions the world's finest cine-freaks have to offer. The attached New Haven-ish style pizza place with a street-side counter is pretty damn decent, and people swear by the burger inside, even after they sober up. In the hellish oasis of bland party bars full of bros and indiscriminate night-trippers, Jackalope has that rough and worn edge that feels like home.
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Photo by Josh Verduzco
Cheer-Up Charlies
It's only been around for a few years, and it's moved locations once, but Cheer-Ups has managed to become an institution for the young, artsy drinking class. There are two reasons for this: good music and good vibes. Cheer-Ups works super hard booking new and experimental bands, local and international. In addition, it's definitely been a proponent of the local scene in all its forms, particularly for the Ls of LGBTers. Oh, and it has kombucha on tap, because why not? As is proper in Austin, go outside where the spacious patio/stage area sits at the bottom of a massive limestone bluff. The one group you're allowed to hate on are the developers, particularly of the Hyatt Hotel, turning the area around Cheer-Ups into an ugly construction zone. Ego's
The sign of a good karaoke bar is (1) a solid MC (2) not explicitly advertising itself as a karaoke bar. Welcome to Ego's, motherfucker; sign up for a song before you take your first shot, because all the people here want their two and a half minutes of transubstantial fame, and that shit takes a long time. The place is different than your average karaoke bar, mostly because it skips past any notion of "Asian karaoke bar" and goes straight for what really matters in Texas: "singing drunk + getting drunk." The place is also different from other Austin establishments because, rather than being stand-alone, it's nestled, hidden almost, inside the bottom of a drab, 1970s-style office building (the table settings look like they were stolen from an old Dallas diner), with just a small sign out front. The songbook rolls deep, the nightly MC is a dead ringer for Det. Rollins on SVU, and she runs as smooth a ship as possible with drunks belting out their favorites. If there's one place where a group of friends can convince that one asshole who refuses to karaoke to actually step up, it's Ego's. Your friends'll be the only ones who really pay attention when you're up—the rest of the people are just on the edge of their seats waiting for their turns. Spider House Cafe & Ballroom
On the north tip of the UT campus, this is the spot if you're a young person and/or college student with a computer who needs to "work," or at the very least, convince yourself you're working while downing beers. The patio is spacious—with scattered, janky-ass tables and decorum that looks like it was salvaged from a Vegas junkyard, circa the 1960s. The cafe part is a converted house, so it's all hardwood floors and cozy inside, while the ballroom space in the front hosts all manner of hip entertainment. Then, of course, there is an adjoining tattoo parlor just in case you want to permanently imprint your bad ideas. Fair warning, though: The service can be downright terrible at Spider. It's like there's no system in place for, like, taking your order or dropping said order off. But the staff and clientele are always chill, and after a few rounds, none of that crap will really matter anyway. Bar Lamar (in Whole Foods)
Austin used to be the "The Live Music Capital of the World." No mas. It's now the capital of techsters, new millennial money, and sell-outs (remember when SXSW wasn't a dumpster fire for corporate "brands"? Don't worry, no one does!). Which is why a visit to the original home and corporate offices of Whole Foods is perfect! The complex is huge, basically a whole city block. This is the Vatican for that whole eco-city lifestyle that all the people and their therapists have bought into. Stroll past the asparagus water and overpriced organic products to the back, where there is a wine/beer bar surrounded by the perfect summation of a transitioning Austin—a barbecue counter on one side and a sushi counter on the other. Go on a weekend afternoon or weekday around rush hour, have no intention of grocery shopping, but instead sit and enjoy a featured beverage while you observe the Austinite in its new habitat—the yoga ladies, the health-fad-conscious college students, people with respectable 401Ks, well-off kids disguised as hippies and hipsters. Don't be too cynical, because you're one of them, too; fight it all you want. It's a beautiful sight, on par with people-watching from a Paris cafe.
It's only been around for a few years, and it's moved locations once, but Cheer-Ups has managed to become an institution for the young, artsy drinking class. There are two reasons for this: good music and good vibes. Cheer-Ups works super hard booking new and experimental bands, local and international. In addition, it's definitely been a proponent of the local scene in all its forms, particularly for the Ls of LGBTers. Oh, and it has kombucha on tap, because why not? As is proper in Austin, go outside where the spacious patio/stage area sits at the bottom of a massive limestone bluff. The one group you're allowed to hate on are the developers, particularly of the Hyatt Hotel, turning the area around Cheer-Ups into an ugly construction zone. Ego's
The sign of a good karaoke bar is (1) a solid MC (2) not explicitly advertising itself as a karaoke bar. Welcome to Ego's, motherfucker; sign up for a song before you take your first shot, because all the people here want their two and a half minutes of transubstantial fame, and that shit takes a long time. The place is different than your average karaoke bar, mostly because it skips past any notion of "Asian karaoke bar" and goes straight for what really matters in Texas: "singing drunk + getting drunk." The place is also different from other Austin establishments because, rather than being stand-alone, it's nestled, hidden almost, inside the bottom of a drab, 1970s-style office building (the table settings look like they were stolen from an old Dallas diner), with just a small sign out front. The songbook rolls deep, the nightly MC is a dead ringer for Det. Rollins on SVU, and she runs as smooth a ship as possible with drunks belting out their favorites. If there's one place where a group of friends can convince that one asshole who refuses to karaoke to actually step up, it's Ego's. Your friends'll be the only ones who really pay attention when you're up—the rest of the people are just on the edge of their seats waiting for their turns. Spider House Cafe & Ballroom
On the north tip of the UT campus, this is the spot if you're a young person and/or college student with a computer who needs to "work," or at the very least, convince yourself you're working while downing beers. The patio is spacious—with scattered, janky-ass tables and decorum that looks like it was salvaged from a Vegas junkyard, circa the 1960s. The cafe part is a converted house, so it's all hardwood floors and cozy inside, while the ballroom space in the front hosts all manner of hip entertainment. Then, of course, there is an adjoining tattoo parlor just in case you want to permanently imprint your bad ideas. Fair warning, though: The service can be downright terrible at Spider. It's like there's no system in place for, like, taking your order or dropping said order off. But the staff and clientele are always chill, and after a few rounds, none of that crap will really matter anyway. Bar Lamar (in Whole Foods)
Austin used to be the "The Live Music Capital of the World." No mas. It's now the capital of techsters, new millennial money, and sell-outs (remember when SXSW wasn't a dumpster fire for corporate "brands"? Don't worry, no one does!). Which is why a visit to the original home and corporate offices of Whole Foods is perfect! The complex is huge, basically a whole city block. This is the Vatican for that whole eco-city lifestyle that all the people and their therapists have bought into. Stroll past the asparagus water and overpriced organic products to the back, where there is a wine/beer bar surrounded by the perfect summation of a transitioning Austin—a barbecue counter on one side and a sushi counter on the other. Go on a weekend afternoon or weekday around rush hour, have no intention of grocery shopping, but instead sit and enjoy a featured beverage while you observe the Austinite in its new habitat—the yoga ladies, the health-fad-conscious college students, people with respectable 401Ks, well-off kids disguised as hippies and hipsters. Don't be too cynical, because you're one of them, too; fight it all you want. It's a beautiful sight, on par with people-watching from a Paris cafe.
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Photo by Josh Verduzco
The Grand
Probably the most naturally diverse bar in Austin, precisely because it doesn't advertise itself as such. For a town that's all about the hot new scene, this place has no pretensions, and its clientele is the same. It's a neighborhood spot right in the newest "up and coming" strip on Airport Boulevard, but it's a well-settled pool joint in the best possible sense. The waitresses provide table service for those in the middle of sharking, the jukebox/PA system has a habit of playing lonely traveller songs like Dylan's "Tangled Up in Blue," and the regular barflies with their gin blossoms and softly-held mixed drinks aren't territorial. Pool's the great barroom equalizer, and The Grand is one of the few places in town you'll see Latinos, blacks, whites, wannabe pool pros with their travel sticks, and groups of amateur friends, all doing their thing without any kind of strutting. The comedians from the next-door comedy venue come by after their show to hang out in one of the poker rooms, and there's a cluster of small tables in case there's some sort of game on the big screen. It's all low-key until the "Rock Candy" shows on Sunday and Monday, in which it seems the town's entire hardcore punk population comes out from wherever they were hiding to listen to the a wild-haired DJ play records in front of some dart boards. Donn's Depot
One of last survivors from "Old Austin," this Fisco train-station-y themed bar doesn't appear to, er, be leaving the station anytime soon. The inside is what happens when the saloon set of a 1970s Western movie is abandoned before being turned into a cozy home by some industrious squatter. Donn himself, on his baby grand that has its own drink rail for customers, leads the band most nights. All wood beams and red shag carpet, the bar has sections, each divided into its own little area. It's great for groups, or even if you're alone, pretending that you're a red headed stranger contemplating that one last score to settle. The dance floor (more of a dance pit) really ties the whole ramshackle place together. There'll be lots of old timers there, many of whom seem like discarded characters of a Charles Portis novel. Scholz Garten
There's not much around the area: mostly drab, state government buildings that turn from comatose to dead after 5 PM. But maybe go, if only because it's both an Austin and literary landmark. The restaurant itself sells the kind of barbecue and German-ish fare that's OK by normal standards but is altogether forgettable in Texas. The tap selection (German-ish, duh) is solid. More important is the brick-laid, tree-dotted patio that has the city's oldest operating bowling alley, built for German farmers to unwind in the 1800s. The place is a character itself in Billy Lee Brammer's The Gay Place, the second greatest novel (or tied?) about American politics after All The King's Men. Go for a couple drinks and imagine yourself getting hammered with the likes of LBJ himself, the greatest politician Texas has ever produced. Hole in the Wall
Oh, you want the Austin experience and don't want to go to Hole in the Wall? Go fuck yourself. This place is a goddamn landmark. No, literally. It has its own entry on the Texas State Historical Association website. Somehow, this place, with an inside that stays true to its namesake, has fought off the steamroller that is time and progress, unmoved while Urban Outfitter-ers and yoga studios arise like little Mount Dooms all round it. Other great venues have fallen over the years, yet this booze-and-music-infused gem remains. Every band you love that you didn't realize came from Austin has played here. It's basically the poor musicians' version of the Grand Ole Opry. And being on The Drag, UT's main strip of student-oriented shops, its crowds can be transient, like a bus stop or army camp. What else do you need to hear? The decor and vibe is exactly what you'd expect at place that's been around forever (like 1974), and it's been fighting to survive since before you knew what cool was. Go pay your respects.
Probably the most naturally diverse bar in Austin, precisely because it doesn't advertise itself as such. For a town that's all about the hot new scene, this place has no pretensions, and its clientele is the same. It's a neighborhood spot right in the newest "up and coming" strip on Airport Boulevard, but it's a well-settled pool joint in the best possible sense. The waitresses provide table service for those in the middle of sharking, the jukebox/PA system has a habit of playing lonely traveller songs like Dylan's "Tangled Up in Blue," and the regular barflies with their gin blossoms and softly-held mixed drinks aren't territorial. Pool's the great barroom equalizer, and The Grand is one of the few places in town you'll see Latinos, blacks, whites, wannabe pool pros with their travel sticks, and groups of amateur friends, all doing their thing without any kind of strutting. The comedians from the next-door comedy venue come by after their show to hang out in one of the poker rooms, and there's a cluster of small tables in case there's some sort of game on the big screen. It's all low-key until the "Rock Candy" shows on Sunday and Monday, in which it seems the town's entire hardcore punk population comes out from wherever they were hiding to listen to the a wild-haired DJ play records in front of some dart boards. Donn's Depot
One of last survivors from "Old Austin," this Fisco train-station-y themed bar doesn't appear to, er, be leaving the station anytime soon. The inside is what happens when the saloon set of a 1970s Western movie is abandoned before being turned into a cozy home by some industrious squatter. Donn himself, on his baby grand that has its own drink rail for customers, leads the band most nights. All wood beams and red shag carpet, the bar has sections, each divided into its own little area. It's great for groups, or even if you're alone, pretending that you're a red headed stranger contemplating that one last score to settle. The dance floor (more of a dance pit) really ties the whole ramshackle place together. There'll be lots of old timers there, many of whom seem like discarded characters of a Charles Portis novel. Scholz Garten
There's not much around the area: mostly drab, state government buildings that turn from comatose to dead after 5 PM. But maybe go, if only because it's both an Austin and literary landmark. The restaurant itself sells the kind of barbecue and German-ish fare that's OK by normal standards but is altogether forgettable in Texas. The tap selection (German-ish, duh) is solid. More important is the brick-laid, tree-dotted patio that has the city's oldest operating bowling alley, built for German farmers to unwind in the 1800s. The place is a character itself in Billy Lee Brammer's The Gay Place, the second greatest novel (or tied?) about American politics after All The King's Men. Go for a couple drinks and imagine yourself getting hammered with the likes of LBJ himself, the greatest politician Texas has ever produced. Hole in the Wall
Oh, you want the Austin experience and don't want to go to Hole in the Wall? Go fuck yourself. This place is a goddamn landmark. No, literally. It has its own entry on the Texas State Historical Association website. Somehow, this place, with an inside that stays true to its namesake, has fought off the steamroller that is time and progress, unmoved while Urban Outfitter-ers and yoga studios arise like little Mount Dooms all round it. Other great venues have fallen over the years, yet this booze-and-music-infused gem remains. Every band you love that you didn't realize came from Austin has played here. It's basically the poor musicians' version of the Grand Ole Opry. And being on The Drag, UT's main strip of student-oriented shops, its crowds can be transient, like a bus stop or army camp. What else do you need to hear? The decor and vibe is exactly what you'd expect at place that's been around forever (like 1974), and it's been fighting to survive since before you knew what cool was. Go pay your respects.
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Photo by Josh Verduzco
Barflys
There's funny "haha" and funny "hmmm." Sliding closer to the latter is Barflys funny. It's hard to say what makes Barflys a little… off. Undoubtedly, it has something to do with the fact that it's a neighborhood bar on the north end of central Austin—no one can quite agree if the area qualifies as "north": It certainly doesn't have a specific vibe. The general 'hood includes a mix of better-off neighborhoods, kinda-slummy houses of long-time residents, and poorer young adults with steady paychecks. Whatever the reason, the barflies of Barflys love to get hammered and jabber on with strangers. Everyone has opinions! The results can be mixed. You might be forced into conversation with a vaguely menacing idiot sporting a neck beard, or get curious ideas while talking with the 21-year-old entrepreneur of a live-streaming sex-chat operation. Go there if it's close to your friend's house, or the sweet SXSW couch surfing deal you found on Craigslist. Shangri-La
A mainstay of the hip East Sixth district, Shangri-La is the Walmart of hipster bars. It's got plenty of space, always low-ish prices, and pretty much everyone goes there. Inevitably, people will describe, in detail, that one SXSW when Bill Murray came in and started bartending, as if they were there (they weren't). Good and proper Austinites judge their bars based on the patios, and in this regard, Shangri-La is a standard-bearer. Wide open with long rows of picnic tables, the outside sorta just demands that you meet and drink with new people. The drinks are cheap-ish, and the bartenders are attentive. A fine place for early evening drinks, or anytime, really. Hotel Vegas
If someone tells you that Hotel Vegas, many years ago, used to be a boarding house filled primarily with people who charge by the fuck, do not fact check it. For one, there still are depressing, cinder-block rooms being occupied on the second floor. Secondly, half an hour there on the weekend will convince you that some kind of nefarious juju still resides. Less of a melting pot and more of a liquor still for the young Austin horde, there's some kind of trouble for everyone. Maybe you'll do coke on the picnic tables outside, with no one around you paying any mind. Or maybe someone will mouth off to your friend, and you'll have to get his or her back. Maybe some Cross Fit nutjob will challenge you to feats of strength. Maybe some young thing will hop on your motorcycle, uninvited, and you'll drive him/her around until he/she yells into your ear that their partner is a cop. This is all theoretical, of course! The music inside is loud, and the conversations in the backyard patio are unwieldy. But, again, mostly innocent trouble is there if that's what you're looking for. Driskill Bar
Classy AF, and in a very Texas way. The whole area looks like an extended version of the drinking "study" you'd expect in some rich oil man's mansion. In other words, it's ornate, carpeted, and Western-themed. Those ladies you see hanging around, particularly when the state legislature is in session, or on Valentine's Day, are, yes, probably high-priced ladies of the night. The bartenders will always remind you of the one in The Shining. Famous people often stay at the equally ornate hotel, and men in suits go to the Driskill to discuss deals, or look burdened by their responsibilities, or whatever. Go there when you want to feel like what you're doing with your life is important and Texany. Order good whiskey, neat, and polish your cowboy boots beforehand. Bolo tie optional.
There's funny "haha" and funny "hmmm." Sliding closer to the latter is Barflys funny. It's hard to say what makes Barflys a little… off. Undoubtedly, it has something to do with the fact that it's a neighborhood bar on the north end of central Austin—no one can quite agree if the area qualifies as "north": It certainly doesn't have a specific vibe. The general 'hood includes a mix of better-off neighborhoods, kinda-slummy houses of long-time residents, and poorer young adults with steady paychecks. Whatever the reason, the barflies of Barflys love to get hammered and jabber on with strangers. Everyone has opinions! The results can be mixed. You might be forced into conversation with a vaguely menacing idiot sporting a neck beard, or get curious ideas while talking with the 21-year-old entrepreneur of a live-streaming sex-chat operation. Go there if it's close to your friend's house, or the sweet SXSW couch surfing deal you found on Craigslist. Shangri-La
A mainstay of the hip East Sixth district, Shangri-La is the Walmart of hipster bars. It's got plenty of space, always low-ish prices, and pretty much everyone goes there. Inevitably, people will describe, in detail, that one SXSW when Bill Murray came in and started bartending, as if they were there (they weren't). Good and proper Austinites judge their bars based on the patios, and in this regard, Shangri-La is a standard-bearer. Wide open with long rows of picnic tables, the outside sorta just demands that you meet and drink with new people. The drinks are cheap-ish, and the bartenders are attentive. A fine place for early evening drinks, or anytime, really. Hotel Vegas
If someone tells you that Hotel Vegas, many years ago, used to be a boarding house filled primarily with people who charge by the fuck, do not fact check it. For one, there still are depressing, cinder-block rooms being occupied on the second floor. Secondly, half an hour there on the weekend will convince you that some kind of nefarious juju still resides. Less of a melting pot and more of a liquor still for the young Austin horde, there's some kind of trouble for everyone. Maybe you'll do coke on the picnic tables outside, with no one around you paying any mind. Or maybe someone will mouth off to your friend, and you'll have to get his or her back. Maybe some Cross Fit nutjob will challenge you to feats of strength. Maybe some young thing will hop on your motorcycle, uninvited, and you'll drive him/her around until he/she yells into your ear that their partner is a cop. This is all theoretical, of course! The music inside is loud, and the conversations in the backyard patio are unwieldy. But, again, mostly innocent trouble is there if that's what you're looking for. Driskill Bar
Classy AF, and in a very Texas way. The whole area looks like an extended version of the drinking "study" you'd expect in some rich oil man's mansion. In other words, it's ornate, carpeted, and Western-themed. Those ladies you see hanging around, particularly when the state legislature is in session, or on Valentine's Day, are, yes, probably high-priced ladies of the night. The bartenders will always remind you of the one in The Shining. Famous people often stay at the equally ornate hotel, and men in suits go to the Driskill to discuss deals, or look burdened by their responsibilities, or whatever. Go there when you want to feel like what you're doing with your life is important and Texany. Order good whiskey, neat, and polish your cowboy boots beforehand. Bolo tie optional.
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Photo by Ben Sklar
Living Room Lounge (Inside the W)
New money's a weird thing, and not in the same way as the tiresome "Keep Austin Weird." Anyway, the W is the perfect fancy place for people who think expensive and upscale means sophisticated. (Think obnoxious tech nerds with some fresh cash and a complete lack of social sense.) (Or the douchebags in finance who maybe have a DJing habit.) (Or the ladies who put on sparkly new cocktail dresses that best facilitate proper tequila shot technique.) The place butts up against the Moody Theater, where Austin City Limits is filmed, and it's surrounded by new restaurants that go for that fancier big-city vibe. But, hell, popularity is popularity, and the W is where the cool people with better jobs than you go to make believe. Go at happy hour with the good-looking suits and pencil skirts to avoid being slightly poorer after the experience. Tiniest Bar in Texas
Yes, there's already an Alamo in Texas. But this is the Alamo of Austin bars. The bar really is tiny: The inside is a glorified liquor cabinet and two bathrooms. The rest of the place is the ultimate Austin bar: all patio. Like the Alamo, it's not just a quiet sanctuary, but the neighborhood's last barricade against fancy new condominiums literally towering over it, and the gyms and Whole Foods at the flanks. Not a whole lot to walk to in the immediate vicinity, but a perfect place for a quiet weekend day drink or three.
New money's a weird thing, and not in the same way as the tiresome "Keep Austin Weird." Anyway, the W is the perfect fancy place for people who think expensive and upscale means sophisticated. (Think obnoxious tech nerds with some fresh cash and a complete lack of social sense.) (Or the douchebags in finance who maybe have a DJing habit.) (Or the ladies who put on sparkly new cocktail dresses that best facilitate proper tequila shot technique.) The place butts up against the Moody Theater, where Austin City Limits is filmed, and it's surrounded by new restaurants that go for that fancier big-city vibe. But, hell, popularity is popularity, and the W is where the cool people with better jobs than you go to make believe. Go at happy hour with the good-looking suits and pencil skirts to avoid being slightly poorer after the experience. Tiniest Bar in Texas
Yes, there's already an Alamo in Texas. But this is the Alamo of Austin bars. The bar really is tiny: The inside is a glorified liquor cabinet and two bathrooms. The rest of the place is the ultimate Austin bar: all patio. Like the Alamo, it's not just a quiet sanctuary, but the neighborhood's last barricade against fancy new condominiums literally towering over it, and the gyms and Whole Foods at the flanks. Not a whole lot to walk to in the immediate vicinity, but a perfect place for a quiet weekend day drink or three.
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Stay Gold. Photo by Josh Verduzco.
Stay Gold
"Austin" is basically a brand at this point, and Stay Gold is one of its latest products. That's not an insult! It's one of several gentrifying buds that has sprouted on East Cesar Chavez in the past few years, and it's certainly not as bad as the recently opened "cat cafe" or the yuppie coffee-table bookstore that's pushed out those living and working in the historic Latino neighborhood. Stay Gold was an immediate hit when it opened about a year ago. That probably had a lot to do with the fact that it was the creation of owners from both Hole in the Wall and the White Horse. The music calendar does not include amateurs. And the crowd is young, good looking, hip, and as upwardly diverse as any promo manager could ask for—basically all the easily appealing parts of the Austin brand. A fine place to make a friend-of-a-friend an actual friend. East Side Showroom
Places in America with a kinda "Old Europe" feel are odd because Old Europe has working toilets older than our entire country. Still, people enjoy the vibe at East Side, which seems like a Paris absinthe bar from the Third Republic. Basically, its veneer of bohemian (it is on cool East Sixth), and its prices creep toward bourgeois. It's also for the pretty well-to-do who love Tom Waits and want to feel a little arty. A great drinking date spot! Fair warning, though: The booze shelf is "curated," like a vinyl collection, and the mustachioed barkeeps in their Bo-bo garb will be far better dressed than you. Just assume they'd prefer to be called "mixologists." Iron Bear
The gay bar for the rest of us, or at least those who want a nominal choice between just having a few drinks and going all in with the clubbing. Just off downtown Congress Ave., and removed from any immediate watering hole, the Iron Bear can be quiet by any bar standards, to say nothing of rainbow establishments. It's popular among the older Texas gentlemen, who look like they've survived the bad ol' days mostly intact. And, of course, in keeping with the name, there are plenty of sturdy, hairy men with stout drinks and a twinkle in their eyes. Go for a few rounds, stay for the puppy play contest (or whatever event is running at the time). Oilcan Harry's/ Rain on 4th/ Halcyon
Gay bars aren't created equal, but they do sometimes cluster, which is why those wonderful-in-their-own-way places are lumped together. Probably the most gay-friendly city in Texas (OK, that's not saying a whole hell of a lot, though Houston has a bigger LGBT community), Austin's Fourth Street is the closest thing to a "Gay District" available—it's the epicenter of the yearly Pride parade. Oilcan Harry's has been around since before Rick Perry's own sexuality was constantly called into question. Because of its landmark status, it and its clientele can have a very high opinion of itself. Expect tight quarters. Essentially right next door is the newer-ish Rain on 4th, which is "upscale," and its dance floor has colorful glass lights! Both promise some of the best dance fun you'll have in Austin, because duh. And for lower-key scenarios, across the street from both is the gay-friendly Halcyon coffee/bar/lounge, full of a general mix of good people and a variety of drinks. Day or night, it's a place that loves all Barbarella
You've got a crew revving to party, and y'all are as diverse and happy as the promo pictures from a university recruiting pamphlet. Time to go dancing at Barbarella. A weekend trip will do just fine, but TuezGayz is the best night for letting your fun flag fly high. Imagine all the best parts of hip and indie, combined with beats that'll roll your eyes back in ecstasy. DJ'd by fan favorite The Glitoris, TuezGayz is the most goddamn fun you'll have sweating booze and smelling of sex. Unbutton your shirt just a little lower, take a colorful, candied shot, and embrace the fabulous. Skylark Lounge
If there is hope that Austin won't be completely ruined by its progressive destiny and position on the "best cities to move to" list, it lies with Skylark Lounge. The extended, shack-looking bar sits back in what clearly used to be some kind of salvage or lumber yard, and the dark, cozy inside looks like it was pieced together from items stolen from bars of your childhood, when dad used to drink a lot. The secluded patio, just past the tiny bandstand, has the feel of a friend's back porch. What's particularly amazing is that the place is both new and old. The "Skylark" part is new, but it also used to be the local watering hole for the (mostly former) black neighborhood, and after that was a lesbian bar. In the best Austin way, it's "changed" without having really "progressed," in the development sense of the word. The music is still country and blues, and it's still played by true musicians. Preserved, in other words, without being surrounded in glass and glitter.
"Austin" is basically a brand at this point, and Stay Gold is one of its latest products. That's not an insult! It's one of several gentrifying buds that has sprouted on East Cesar Chavez in the past few years, and it's certainly not as bad as the recently opened "cat cafe" or the yuppie coffee-table bookstore that's pushed out those living and working in the historic Latino neighborhood. Stay Gold was an immediate hit when it opened about a year ago. That probably had a lot to do with the fact that it was the creation of owners from both Hole in the Wall and the White Horse. The music calendar does not include amateurs. And the crowd is young, good looking, hip, and as upwardly diverse as any promo manager could ask for—basically all the easily appealing parts of the Austin brand. A fine place to make a friend-of-a-friend an actual friend. East Side Showroom
Places in America with a kinda "Old Europe" feel are odd because Old Europe has working toilets older than our entire country. Still, people enjoy the vibe at East Side, which seems like a Paris absinthe bar from the Third Republic. Basically, its veneer of bohemian (it is on cool East Sixth), and its prices creep toward bourgeois. It's also for the pretty well-to-do who love Tom Waits and want to feel a little arty. A great drinking date spot! Fair warning, though: The booze shelf is "curated," like a vinyl collection, and the mustachioed barkeeps in their Bo-bo garb will be far better dressed than you. Just assume they'd prefer to be called "mixologists." Iron Bear
The gay bar for the rest of us, or at least those who want a nominal choice between just having a few drinks and going all in with the clubbing. Just off downtown Congress Ave., and removed from any immediate watering hole, the Iron Bear can be quiet by any bar standards, to say nothing of rainbow establishments. It's popular among the older Texas gentlemen, who look like they've survived the bad ol' days mostly intact. And, of course, in keeping with the name, there are plenty of sturdy, hairy men with stout drinks and a twinkle in their eyes. Go for a few rounds, stay for the puppy play contest (or whatever event is running at the time). Oilcan Harry's/ Rain on 4th/ Halcyon
Gay bars aren't created equal, but they do sometimes cluster, which is why those wonderful-in-their-own-way places are lumped together. Probably the most gay-friendly city in Texas (OK, that's not saying a whole hell of a lot, though Houston has a bigger LGBT community), Austin's Fourth Street is the closest thing to a "Gay District" available—it's the epicenter of the yearly Pride parade. Oilcan Harry's has been around since before Rick Perry's own sexuality was constantly called into question. Because of its landmark status, it and its clientele can have a very high opinion of itself. Expect tight quarters. Essentially right next door is the newer-ish Rain on 4th, which is "upscale," and its dance floor has colorful glass lights! Both promise some of the best dance fun you'll have in Austin, because duh. And for lower-key scenarios, across the street from both is the gay-friendly Halcyon coffee/bar/lounge, full of a general mix of good people and a variety of drinks. Day or night, it's a place that loves all Barbarella
You've got a crew revving to party, and y'all are as diverse and happy as the promo pictures from a university recruiting pamphlet. Time to go dancing at Barbarella. A weekend trip will do just fine, but TuezGayz is the best night for letting your fun flag fly high. Imagine all the best parts of hip and indie, combined with beats that'll roll your eyes back in ecstasy. DJ'd by fan favorite The Glitoris, TuezGayz is the most goddamn fun you'll have sweating booze and smelling of sex. Unbutton your shirt just a little lower, take a colorful, candied shot, and embrace the fabulous. Skylark Lounge
If there is hope that Austin won't be completely ruined by its progressive destiny and position on the "best cities to move to" list, it lies with Skylark Lounge. The extended, shack-looking bar sits back in what clearly used to be some kind of salvage or lumber yard, and the dark, cozy inside looks like it was pieced together from items stolen from bars of your childhood, when dad used to drink a lot. The secluded patio, just past the tiny bandstand, has the feel of a friend's back porch. What's particularly amazing is that the place is both new and old. The "Skylark" part is new, but it also used to be the local watering hole for the (mostly former) black neighborhood, and after that was a lesbian bar. In the best Austin way, it's "changed" without having really "progressed," in the development sense of the word. The music is still country and blues, and it's still played by true musicians. Preserved, in other words, without being surrounded in glass and glitter.
Photo by Ben Sklar
Whip In
From the highway, it kinda looks like a former El Pollo joint converted into an Asian liquor store. This is a ruse. Yes, it is a beer and wine store, but it's also a solid Indian-ish restaurant, a tap room (more than 60 options), and a wine bar. There's a little stage with a few tables about, which give the place a really settled, inviting vibe. An after-work spot for young professionals and office workers, there are always groups chilling, singles sipping, people munching, and general low-gear merriment. A fine place to wait out the hellish rush-hour traffic, a "this doesn't qualify as going out" night out, or to take colleagues you don't quite trust with hard liquor just yet.Lala's Little Nugget
Lala's has managed to stay mostly unchanged since it was opened about a billion years ago (1970s). That's probably due to the fact that it's a neighborhood joint on the farthest northern edges of what most Austinites consider a reasonable distance to downtown. It's a small, simple place, and people swear by the jukebox selection. Oh, right, and it's Christmas-themed, year-round. All in all, underwhelming in the best possible way. A nice reality check and break, particularly if you arrive in town for SXSW. Nasty's
It sounds like a bad idea, and half looks it, too, since there are absolutely no windows in this simple, concrete structure. But people, a surprising majority of them women, love this place. It really makes no sense, except this is a nice neighborhood dive for livers young enough not to actually need a neighborhood dive just yet. For whatever reason, the TVs inside are glued to rugby channels, and rugby paraphernalia doesn't so much line the walls as dot them. Everyone's in a good mood here, which might have something to do with the drink prices (don't get fancy, stick to beer and mixed drinks). And, again, for whatever reason, Nasty's is the epicenter for rockabillies on Saturday. Their ducktailed-hair bands have a long-standing engagement that night, and the women come decked out in the hottest 1950s fashion. Carousel Lounge
Vic, who you just met a few hours ago, wants to keep going with his all-day bar hopping. But he objects to going "so far north" to the Carousel Lounge. Also, the Carousel Lounge is a beer and wine cash bar, with a BYOL policy, and liquor stores have long since closed. But when you get to the carnival-themed bar, an all-but-one lesbian band is rocking the butch crowd's socks off with classics from Guns N' Roses. Y'all get right up to the front of the floor-level stage and brandish devil horns with one hand, gripping Lone Star tallboys in the other. The "weird" Austin of yore, full of aging hippies just looking for a good time, still exists at such a place. You and Vic, now BFFs, will sit in a booth, watching semi-regulars get half-heartedly cut off, realizing the decision to go to Carousel, right at the edge of an unseemly part of town, was the best one you made all night. The Butterfly Bar
Unlike all the other "new" bars that pop up fully-formed as douche monsters, the Butterfly Bar had a beautiful and lovely evolution. Originally just sort of a waiting area for those about to watch local alternative performance art in the adjoining theater space, the bar later served beer and wine with all the presentation of booze culled from the corner market. No mas. It is now one of the best (and quietest) places in town. In the large, rolling yard, pulled away from any main street, there's a sort of outdoor sun room that will most certainly be occupied by one lucky group when you arrive. It's OK. Lounge outside on the lawn or patios for a bit, and know that you are better than those kids at the nearby bars on Manor, watching big screen TVs and guzzling expensive sugar.
From the highway, it kinda looks like a former El Pollo joint converted into an Asian liquor store. This is a ruse. Yes, it is a beer and wine store, but it's also a solid Indian-ish restaurant, a tap room (more than 60 options), and a wine bar. There's a little stage with a few tables about, which give the place a really settled, inviting vibe. An after-work spot for young professionals and office workers, there are always groups chilling, singles sipping, people munching, and general low-gear merriment. A fine place to wait out the hellish rush-hour traffic, a "this doesn't qualify as going out" night out, or to take colleagues you don't quite trust with hard liquor just yet.Lala's Little Nugget
Lala's has managed to stay mostly unchanged since it was opened about a billion years ago (1970s). That's probably due to the fact that it's a neighborhood joint on the farthest northern edges of what most Austinites consider a reasonable distance to downtown. It's a small, simple place, and people swear by the jukebox selection. Oh, right, and it's Christmas-themed, year-round. All in all, underwhelming in the best possible way. A nice reality check and break, particularly if you arrive in town for SXSW. Nasty's
It sounds like a bad idea, and half looks it, too, since there are absolutely no windows in this simple, concrete structure. But people, a surprising majority of them women, love this place. It really makes no sense, except this is a nice neighborhood dive for livers young enough not to actually need a neighborhood dive just yet. For whatever reason, the TVs inside are glued to rugby channels, and rugby paraphernalia doesn't so much line the walls as dot them. Everyone's in a good mood here, which might have something to do with the drink prices (don't get fancy, stick to beer and mixed drinks). And, again, for whatever reason, Nasty's is the epicenter for rockabillies on Saturday. Their ducktailed-hair bands have a long-standing engagement that night, and the women come decked out in the hottest 1950s fashion. Carousel Lounge
Vic, who you just met a few hours ago, wants to keep going with his all-day bar hopping. But he objects to going "so far north" to the Carousel Lounge. Also, the Carousel Lounge is a beer and wine cash bar, with a BYOL policy, and liquor stores have long since closed. But when you get to the carnival-themed bar, an all-but-one lesbian band is rocking the butch crowd's socks off with classics from Guns N' Roses. Y'all get right up to the front of the floor-level stage and brandish devil horns with one hand, gripping Lone Star tallboys in the other. The "weird" Austin of yore, full of aging hippies just looking for a good time, still exists at such a place. You and Vic, now BFFs, will sit in a booth, watching semi-regulars get half-heartedly cut off, realizing the decision to go to Carousel, right at the edge of an unseemly part of town, was the best one you made all night. The Butterfly Bar
Unlike all the other "new" bars that pop up fully-formed as douche monsters, the Butterfly Bar had a beautiful and lovely evolution. Originally just sort of a waiting area for those about to watch local alternative performance art in the adjoining theater space, the bar later served beer and wine with all the presentation of booze culled from the corner market. No mas. It is now one of the best (and quietest) places in town. In the large, rolling yard, pulled away from any main street, there's a sort of outdoor sun room that will most certainly be occupied by one lucky group when you arrive. It's OK. Lounge outside on the lawn or patios for a bit, and know that you are better than those kids at the nearby bars on Manor, watching big screen TVs and guzzling expensive sugar.