Not too long ago, we finally conquered our fear of singing in public (aided and abetted by our friends Jack D. and Jim B.), and we couldn't have picked a better place than XPO Lounge, easily the finest (and hippest) karaoke night in Dallas. The tunes are spun by DJ Mr. Rid (who's been involved in the local music scene longer than guitar strings) and sung by a who's-who of Dallas musicians and scenesters. Don't go if you're expecting to trot out your sub-American Idol impersonations of Mariah and Whitney, because a usual night revolves around Cheap Trick, KISS and so on. Do go if you want to buy us a drink, because we'd be much obliged. We need all the liquid courage we can get.
Who says people aren't going to Deep Ellum? We're up here on the roof of The Bone, overlooking Main and Crowdus and Commerce and Elm and Malcolm X and downtown and Uptown and East Dallas and South Dallas and Fair Park, and the view's great and there's a band up here and the party's jumpin' and this waitress just put another beer in our hand and we are, in the words of .38 Special, rock-in in-to the night--rockinintothenight!
Those who know only of yoga from watching Gomez stand on his head during reruns of The Addams Family can learn the art of the downward-facing dog and the proud warrior five days a week in the quiet, comfortable community room upstairs at Cosmic Café. The classes are taught by instructors who practice or teach at other locations and who offer a variety of different styles in an anxiety-free setting. It's a mix of regulars and newcomers, so that those new to the poses can learn without intimidation. The classes are free, which means you don't have to shell out $100 a month before you know whether you want to learn to bend like a pretzel. Donations are accepted, though. Call for class days and times.
Sense
Yeah, yeah, yeah. You have to be on some sort of list to get into the place, which seems like nothing more than an appeal to snobbery in the extreme. Yet the list is not based on the patrons' net worth, on the cars they lease or on more ephemeral measures--such as "cool." Any resourceful person can maneuver his way into the exclusive club by working connections, placing a few calls, befriending the right bartender. By limiting entry to those who really wish to hang out there, Sense ensures a vibe unique to Dallas nightlife. People on the inside mingle and talk and flirt without regard to real-world status. The setting is pleasant, with low-slung leather seating and a pulse that facilitates rather than dominates conversation. As a result, young and old, gold diggers and suburbanites, trend-followers and common folk rub shoulders and even (gasp!) communicate as equals. A good bar makes you feel comfortable, and Sense is just a good bar.
Sadly, Dallas doesn't have many blues clubs these days, and most of the ones it does have traffic in the same kind of "blues" that made Steve Buscemi get queasy in Ghost World. Not R.L. Griffin's Blues Palace #2, owned and operated by The Right Reverend of Dallas Blues, R.L. Griffin. (Just in case you thought it was nothing more than a clever name.) If you've got the stones to stop thinking about what's happening to your late-model sedan out in the parking lot for an hour or three, it's well worth a trip, especially on Friday and Saturday, when you'll get a chance to witness Griffin's Show and Revue with Hal Harris and the Lo Lifers, the joint's house band. Testify!
Still can't beat this Deep Ellum institution, and not many people try. Yeah, there's the Elbow Room or Red Blood Club, at least whenever one of the groups in the Dallas Creative Music Alliance is onstage. But Sambuca doesn't just get this by default: They deserve it, doing everything a good jazz club should and then some. The sound is top-notch and so is the talent, and they even have the courage to challenge their clientele, booking acts such as a combo featuring drummer Earl Harvin, guitarist Bill Longhorse and laptop jockey Wanz Dover. That might not be Ken Burns' idea of jazz, but you can bet Miles Davis would be proud. And so are we.