photos COLETTE LEVESQUE

RENNIE’S LANDING
words NOAH DEWITT

By a twist of fate, the first bar of our journey, Rennie’s Landing, happened to be hosting a release party for our rivals, Ethos Magazine, the sore losers of last year’s OV vs. Ethos Dance Off. I decided to wear my dancing shoes just in case things got out of hand. But with an expansive upstairs, two full bars, and ample outdoor seating, there proved to be enough room for both magazines. While the Ethos bunch networked amongst themselves, we Voice Dawgs knocked back draft pints of stout, PBRs, and whiskey gingers in the cozy yellow comfort of the tavern’s upstairs. If you’re looking to unwind after an un-fun day of classes, but aren’t in the mood to get hit on at Taylor’s or Max’s, Rennie’s is a safe bet.

MAX’S
words NOAH PORTER

Fabled to be the real-world inspiration for the Springfield home-away-from-home that is Moe’s Tavern, Max’s serves as the end-of-the-night watering hole for many of the university’s date rapists and popcorn enthusiasts. Pretzel and peanut fans may also find themselves amongst good company here. Really, the snacks are all that this bar has going for it. PBRs are $2.75 (bonus). The closing-time table dancing would be cool if the playlist wasn’t limited to over-exhausted Motown hits and jock jams. But… it’s hard to resist Max’s drunken charm when the whole bar is singing “Piano Man.” Ironically, there usually is an old man sitting next to you making love to his tonic and gin at Max’s. And he will stare at you.

DIABLO’S DOWNTOWN LOUNGE
words PARKER MULLINS

The post-Max’s decision for the crawl’s next boozing station was a wildcard. The upstairs portion presents the opportunity to hang out in perhaps the largest covered back patio in the Eugene circuit. Yeah, bigger than Roma. In general, it’s more desirable as well seeing as you can smoke cigarettes and get heavily intoxicated without having to worry about pastry bakers kicking out your drunk ass. However, the upstairs portion is nothing compared to the seedy dance scene underworld that lies beneath. Diablo’s, in the basement, offered to the Voice a beautiful display of $3.50 LIIT’s, booties in motion, and more heavy-duty beam equipment than a strip-mall Lazer Tag chain. This stop remained my favorite throughout the night, leaving subsequent bars feeling like a slow trek through an MDMA comedown.

HORSEHEAD
words COLETTE LEVESQUE

There are only two ways to attend Horsehead. The first is at the beginning of your night, when a cheap, precious Blue Ribbon or a simple well drink sounds sufficient. This should be relaxing if you’ve beaten the rush. The other way to attend Horsehead – and my personal favorite – is totally wasted at the end of the night, when you have zero cares to give and are in dire need of super dank fries, of either the French or Freedom variety, at a reasonable price. Lost in the Barmuda Triangle and nearing the end of an epic night, the OV staffers and I devoured somewhere between three and 10 baskets. From what I can remember, I took a bite of those savory fries and proceeded to ponder if the feeling in my gut was more comparable to love making or to winning the lottery. I settled on it being just about equivalent to the Immaculate Conception. That said, I would not suggest Horsehead half-way through your night when you are a little tipsy and all you really want to do is dance your heart out while avoiding pool-playing douche bags.

JOHN HENRY’S
words Margaret Appel

John Henry’s began in 1992, and it went strong for several years with an 80’s night that just wouldn’t quit. However, it would seem that that the clientele occupying the bar in 1992 haven’t really moved on, increasing sleaziness levels and therefore decreasing overall desirability. But if you and your gang have the right attitude and not a trace of sobriety (seriously), I would certainly recommend stumbling in on a Thursday ‘80s night, even if only to laugh at the freaks. The checkerboard dance floor is inviting, although the stage appears to be reserved for recent divorcees. For some reason there are fixed-gear bikes hanging above the bar, perhaps a desperate attempt to attract customers who are in good enough shape to even ride a bike, but really they’re just a decorative mystery. Henry’s usually has cheap well drinks and PBR, but perhaps this is because they’re making money off of the $3 cover charge that always seems to be happening. Overall, this bar is just really gross, there’s no denying that — but somewhere in the sea of camel toes and strange powders circulating around John Henry’s, there is a lingering charm that not even the sweatiest creeps can destroy.

Above: Busby surprises the ASUO’s finest, including ASUO Vice President Maneesh Arora,  with a Vagina-gram.

In other news, University of Oregon journalism student and my dear friend Joey Geglia did a nice little write-up that reported the Vagina-gram fundraiser. It was featured on KVAL’s online news, and received hilarious web backlash:

That last one’s my favorite. Don’t let it get you down, Busby. I know you won’t. Happy Valentine’s Day everyone, and don’t forget to laugh at how awkward it probably was for someone to sing pop songs in a vagina suit to complete strangers all week. If you want to see someone else from the UO Women’s Center perform a Vagina-gram, you can peep it here:

Now that the Summer sun has burned many of our ears, necks and backs, we write to you with an update – a progress report of sorts.  As noted in our last post, we have a plethora of projects that we’re trying to accomplish before Fall rolls around and here’s where we stand thus far:

Revamp website
Acquire new distribution boxes
Paint new distribution boxes
Replace broken Plexiglas in boxes around campus (About 1/3 fixed.)
Scan and archive Volume 14 and others not on website
Create master distribution list, distribute to more places (It’s still growing, but we have a good start.)
Clean/Reorganize office (It’s reorganized but not clean.  Does it need to be?)
Plan Rent-a-Pooch IV (Set for October 21st.)
Organize U of O Student Media Summit
Bind and archive volumes not already in library
Blog, blog, blog
Build roller-coaster (It’s very rickety.)
Drink beer (Can we ever really cross this one out?)

While there are some items that have been taken care of, there is much more to accomplish.  If you’d like to get involved and help us help you and the entire student body, give us a shout via the contact form.

According to Stereogum, it’ll pull together many divergent sounds, making a hard rock departure from their usual home-spun melodies. I’m offering a special prize to the person who can figure out the name of the ’80s Libyan pop star. Worth a look.

Blitzen Trapper is playing Pickathon this year with Dr.Dog, Thao with The Get Down Stay Down and square dancing?

After two years of touring worldwide on the same album, I don’t know how Jens manages to take such good care of his audience. We did take his Oregon virginity, and I’d like to think it was special for him too. At first I was disappointed that he had such a small touring band. If I was a semi-famous Swedish pop star, I thought, I would buy myself a goddamn gospel choir and a brass band and take them with me everywhere, even Eugene, Oregon.

But the sparse arrangements turned out to be a blessing. He performed most of Night Falls and a few favorites from Maple Leaves and When I said I wanted to be your dog. The audience knew most of the songs by heart, and we worked together to make the songs whole. On “Kanske Ar Jag Kar I Dig” (which means “Maybe I’m in love with you, but I’m crossing out the maybe”), the band cut out and the audience took over the back-up vocals. The whole show was a camp sing-along with the coolest camp counselor in the world.

In the aftermath Jens and his band stuck around and everyone pretended to be his best friend, especially me. Since last night I have thought of a million intelligent questions for him, but when I met him all I did was gush. I basically told him that his music was the only remedy for a broken heart, but not in such graceful terms. Then I got really nervous and blurted out: “CAN I JUST GIVE YOU A HUG?” And he was all, in that quiet, Jenzy way, “Of course; I was going to give you one anyway.” So I put my arms around him, like that girl in that song (“Your arms around me), and it was totally satisfying. Later I felt a little embarrassed, like I had vomited on his shoes or something.

By the way, I should settle this argument right now:
It’s “Yentz,” not “Jenz.” The violin player told me so.

Reservations begin at 10:30 a.m.

Pick-up starts at 11:00 a.m.

Heck yes!

While curled up against the band’s ancient, monolithic amp at the front of the crowd, I developed two valuable quandaries.

First: you can pay more than Oregon’s generous min. wage at a fancy-pants Portland venue to hear music better suited for a dive bar with a 3-dollar cover (Dear Builders and the Butchers: I am bitter). The heeled patrons crowding your view will add to your irritability. Or you can be a stingy, wallet-forgetting college student and get all soppy and mesmerized for free. Your proximity to the artist, and your hands on the rug, will remind you of those lovely, pre-jaded days when you discovered Simon and Garfunkel while sitting in front of the speakers on your parent’s living room floor– but, this time, the music is live and your friends have whiskey!

Second: If you always love to folk, you will always be forced to endure the standing vs. sitting debate at seatless venues. I’ll never forget Joanna Newsom’s meek attempt to dissipate concert rage over this very topic during her ’06-’07 tour. It might have been the first time a harp inspired riotous behavior. Invie gave a similarly timid reminder that her music wasn’t for dancers, and I was happy with my decision to sit. Her melancholy accordion and thoughtful lyrics expressed nostalgia that made my limbs useless. I’m never the wallflower with pocketed hands; I love to bust a move–but last Wednesday I was totally puddled. The isolated soul gyrating in the back of the crowd seemed rather out of place, especially when he waved his arms around and demanded that people join him (incidentally, I saw this same, enthusiastic fellow at a beer-hookah sort of party the next night, and he was still out of place, this time with a rogue bottle of raw goat-milk.)

Dark Dark Dark: You made the best of a rainy night. I’m sorry I forgot my wallet.
Blogosphere: Dark Dark Dark is in Salt Lake City right now. You probably missed them…