thegothamglutton

The Duplex

Every weekend night at the Duplex, a legendary piano bar and cabaret in the West Village, there is at least one table of foreigners who have absolutely NO idea how they got there. It’s actually quite cute. They seem mystified by the piano in the corner of the room and sort of stare at whoever’s playing/singing like they are at the museum, or perhaps the zoo. Once the drinks kick in, however, they are invariably the life of the party, and stumble out several hours later warbling the chorus to Sweet Caroline or American Pie in nearly unintelligible drunk-foreignerese. This has been going on since I began coming to the Duplex in 1994, and my guess is many years prior. The Duplex: Bringing nations together through treacly singer-songwriter ballads and LOTS of hooch.

When you go to the Duplex, be prepared to laugh your ass off and consume massive amounts of alcohol. The staff of piano players and singers are ferociously talented and have a super-stiff pour, God bless ‘em. I am partial to Wednesday and Sunday nights, where the brilliant Brian Nash, Kate Pazakis and Poppi Kramer dazzle with their songs, patter and snarky irreverence. Brian has a propensity for singing all the parts of a song in a musical – it’s really quite astounding to witness. In addition, the Duplex has an upstairs cabaret showcasing some of the most amazing undiscovered talent in New York City. When the weather gets warmer, they open the outside tables, and you can lounge for hours sipping pina coladas or whatever tickles your palate, and watch the spectacle that is our fair city when people no longer have to cover up with coats and proudly display their (often horrifying) fashion sense to the world.

I also love the Duplex because it brings together so many different kinds of people. Because of its location smack-dab in the center of Greenwich Village (and because it’s a piano bar/cabaret, really), its clientele is mostly gay, but peppered with a fair number of JAPS who get overly handsy when drunk, noisy, happy fratboys, and middle-aged couples who just want a pleasant old-school evening. And of course, the inevitable delusional and/or obliteratedly drunk patron who gets up to the mike and proceeds to butcher some poor unsuspecting song….or so I’ve witnessed (ahem).

Give this man a microphone! (or not)

Mosey down there some night – it’s always a good time. And get someone benefiting from the ridiculously crappy dollar to buy you a pint while you’re at it.

The Duplex, 61 Christopher Street @ 7^th Avenue (take the 1 to Christopher Street or the A, C ,E, F ,B, D ,V to West 4^th Street and walk one block west); www.theduplex.com

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