For the grey-livered among us who still mourn the gentrification of Tuman's Alcohol Abuse Center, Club Foot remains to cater to our rock-and-roll tendencies. This joint illustrates what happens when Gramps Grabowski passes on and leaves his bar to the packrat punk-rock grandson.
Club Foot stands on its own as a low-key Bucktown destination for cheap drinks and a comfortable level of conversation. Years of pop-culture kitsch provide the ambiance, with cases of stuffed animals, action figures, KISS dolls and inflatable grey aliens populating the walls.
For a visual-stimuli overload, visit the men's room, wallpapered with band stickers and bearing a toilet stall decked out in a floor-to-ceiling collage of shellacked Elvis pictures. Disco balls and light-up skulls provide the lighting over the pool table, and $2 Pabst bottles on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Thursday ease the pain of the resident art students and indie-rock patrons.
Other specials include $2.50 well drinks on Monday and Wednesday; there are no deals on Friday and Saturday, "so don't ask," says the whiteboard on which the names of the rotating DJs are written. Bored? Fire up the classic Tetris arcade console next to the pinball machine or just get another $20 from the ATM, drop it in front of the bartender and suck down as many PBRs you can handle. If you need more than that, just go home already. Jeez.
Centerstage Reviewer: Karl Klockars