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A visit to this out-of-the-way Greenpoint dive can go two ways. Scenario one: you step through clusters of bands smoking in front of their beat-up tour vans just to get to the door and squeeze through a crowd of messy-haired college radio DJs and girls in slouchy boots to get to the fluorescent-lit bar. After stopping by the grim bathroom to stuff a handful of toilet paper in your ears you push through the saloon-style swinging doors into a stageless back room where, under a pulsating lightshow apparently stolen from a middle school dance, you’ll come face-to-glistening-face with some thundering rock outfit. Scenario two: A man with a deeply creased face will slowly pull his gaze away from the television set and, out of politeness to the only other person in the bar, invite you to a game of pool. Scenemaking rock promoter Todd P.—who started booking some of Brooklyn’s best underground shows a few times a week at this three-decade-old bar—is the difference. Either way, the cheap booze is the fuel. — Keach Hagey