We’re not going to keep you too long...
You’ve got plans to cancel.
So you can make time for The Leadbelly, a nostalgic rec room of an oyster-and-cocktail joint from the Fat Radish duo, opening tonight on the LES.
Obviously, you know and love Fat Radish. This is directly across the street. And we’ve just got to warn you, you may not be making it back there...
“Comfortable” is the word here. Battered old suitcases, stacks of vinyl. Kind of an Airstream vibe at the bar when you walk in. Seamlessly transitioning into a Wes Andersonian fort situation as you make your way back. Only here, your mom would be bringing in Coke bottles tinged with rum and stuff like mussel pot pies and prosciutto-wrapped peaches for snacks (which might be a little Andersonian itself).
What we’re saying is, don’t make plans beyond this. Time stands still here. It’s that gloriously beat-up nook where you and six kind-of friends become real friends over nine-hour ramblings about Ray Davies while the Kinks play on the suitcase-bound record player. Or whoever. You’re the DJ when a pro’s not in the house.
And there’s a piano. A piano for sitting at and sipping Moroccan mojitos. Or for playing. Whichever.
You love a freelance piano.
You’ve got plans to cancel.
So you can make time for The Leadbelly, a nostalgic rec room of an oyster-and-cocktail joint from the Fat Radish duo, opening tonight on the LES.
Obviously, you know and love Fat Radish. This is directly across the street. And we’ve just got to warn you, you may not be making it back there...
“Comfortable” is the word here. Battered old suitcases, stacks of vinyl. Kind of an Airstream vibe at the bar when you walk in. Seamlessly transitioning into a Wes Andersonian fort situation as you make your way back. Only here, your mom would be bringing in Coke bottles tinged with rum and stuff like mussel pot pies and prosciutto-wrapped peaches for snacks (which might be a little Andersonian itself).
What we’re saying is, don’t make plans beyond this. Time stands still here. It’s that gloriously beat-up nook where you and six kind-of friends become real friends over nine-hour ramblings about Ray Davies while the Kinks play on the suitcase-bound record player. Or whoever. You’re the DJ when a pro’s not in the house.
And there’s a piano. A piano for sitting at and sipping Moroccan mojitos. Or for playing. Whichever.
You love a freelance piano.
