Dive Bars

A friend once said to me, “you really like those old timers, don’t you?” I did. I do. I like sitting in dive bars and listening to jazz. Old Fashioned Kind, the first single on my EP (out this Friday!), is about me, and it’s also about the other solo patrons I’ve seen sitting at the bar. Sometimes they’re reading books alone, or smiling at their cocktails, content in their solitude. Sometimes they’re on a hunt for a new stranger to chat with. The bartender already knows their order.

The Dogpatch Saloon was one of those places for me. It was a classic old San Francisco dive bar with a swinging door at the entrance and a grand piano on a small stage in the back fighting for space with the pool table. The floor was checkered with red and black tiles and held the marks of years of shuffling feet. There was fernet at the bar, and countless stories from the bartenders about the great music they’d witnessed through the years.

This version of the Dogpatch Saloon does not exist anymore. Some of my favorite musicians, patrons, and bartenders have died, and the bar changed ownership. I’m not sure if the current business survived the pandemic, but the place I knew had already died the death many old establishments face in the name of “progress.” Change is inevitable, but in cities it can happen with heartbreaking speed.