How to Clear a Bar Out Through the Majesty of Song

The author, tending bar, waiting for said bar to clear out. Photo by Chance Jimenez

Many years ago, when I briefly verged on mattering, I sat in a stairwell with a couple DJs, a party promoter, the owner of the club, and an Interpol. They were all discussing how to keep the club from being lame now that it was popular. Yuppies were becoming a problem on the dance floor. The Interpol said, “I don’t know what to do. I played Cabaret Voltaire and they still wouldn’t leave!”

Knowing how insane that was, I internally shook my head, but said nothing. I wanted these people to like me. As a bartender I knew then, as I know now, that yuppies (or bros or hipsters or whatever you call people you don’t like in this degraded age where words that formerly were so helpful in determining where we’d sit on the high school cafeteria of life are now entirely interchangeable) don’t hear music at all if there’s a chance, even the slightest, that they might be able to put their dick in something. Getting people to leave your establishment (besides the obvious questions of gross snobbery and/or poor business modeling) before closing time, if there’s a potential for bathroom sex, is impossible. Give up the dream, darkwave DJ, the backwards baseball hats are staying.

At closing time, however, the equation changes. As someone who has worked in NYC bars for 16 years, usually with no bouncer and always wearing glasses so I’m particularly averse to getting punched, how do I get jerks to exit without throwing them out (if they’re small) or (it they’re big) doing the hand-on-shoulder “bro, no disrespect, I’m asking…you got to go” man-to-man speech that wastes precious bar scrubbing time and kills my soul?

Well, the answer is simple. God is good and god gave us the Swans.

Since the early 80s the Swans have been, as told to me by their guitarist Norman Westberg and tested out myself for years, a tried and true method of clearing a bar. Even their new funky town material, to the non-fan ear, is night killingly depressing. I’ve seen men who were, minutes before, embodying the lampshade-on-head dance, slump into their loosened tie, mutter “this sucks” to no one and slog into that non-sex-having night, just one and half songs into To Be Kind.

But if you’re anything like me and destined to end your days behind a bar, desperately begging your social betters to leave, Swans can’t be every night. A man needs variety. That’s why we have 31 flavors at Baskin Robbins and a million types of craft beer, each one more absurd and bacon-flavored than the last. Bearing in mind humanity’s evolutionary drive for diversity (I guess that’s a thing, right? If I knew anything remotely close to anything about science, I’d be neither tending bar nor writing about music. I’D BE SAVING LIVES, MAN. Or blogging slash fiction about Steven Pinker), I have, for your entertainment or, if you’re in the industry, salvation, compiled a list of 4am Room-Clearers Besides Swans. (Still though…Swans work best.)

A portrait of the author and another bartender, patiently, cheerfully waiting for the bar to clear out.

Caveats:

1. You will notice that there is no metal on this list. Metal is tricky. In my experience, and this has happened often, you can blast Darkthrone or Watain at an earsplitting volume but, invariably, some dude, even if he is Patrick Batemen in suspenders and a “I Break For Hedge Funds and Date Rape” pin, will stand up and scream, “I lovvvvveeeeeee this band! Hail!” He will think he’s your best friend. His date will think he’s your best friend. They will never leave. Metal is great for many things; partying, pacifying the lower middle classes with a false sense of rebellion that enables them to justify their own complacency in the face of economic strip mining by the oligarchy, or just thinking about the devil and stuff…but it’s not great for clearing a bar.

2.Metal Machine Music, all other drone (yes, even “blackened” lol drone, albums, etc? Nope. Never. Not once. Drunks think it’s lovely. Or a long My Bloody Valentine song. Sorry, Boyd Rice-tattoo-having-living-on-the-edgers. Same goes for all non-trebly punk. I’m as unhappy about it as you are. At least all our haircuts are super neat, right?

3. Contrarians, if your favorite album isn’t on this list. Don’t cry. I have no doubt that it, like possibly you, is very annoying. This is a public service, not the last word.

4. My editors reasonably suggested “Yakety Sax” AKA The Benny Hill Show theme song. Solid idea. However, all too often it leads to madcap antics and encourages sped up predatory behavior upon buxom Swedish barmaids such as myself. Pretty funny till it happens to you.

The following are my favorite albums that combine the requisite noise and sheer irritation (usually an delicate combo of high registers and super grating vocals) value to drive out even the most dedicated lurker/cocaine vulture/close talking bar belly-upper. I will note that this is not scientific, merely anecdotal and that, to be clear, I love all these records. Otherwise I wouldn’t own them. But everyone I serve drinks to hates them. And thank that most annoying of all gods, Zeus.

The album the inspired this list. I just started using it and, honestly, it works better than any (non-Swans) album I’ve ever used. Customers take on sickly sheen at the first high frequencies and once the hectoring, distorted “singing” kicks in, they gone. Being a fan, I hesitated to put this on the list so I contacted member, Ryan Martin, to make sure I wasn’t burning any bridges, you know, socially. He wrote back, “Wouldn't be offended in the slightest… I hate people who hang in bars after closing time when they are told to leave, fuck those people and happy to help them not get laid.” York Factory Complaint, There For The Workers of The Service Economy. (FYI…Prurient works too.)

Beatles songs but with singing replaced with barking dogs. The customers laugh at first but by song three, the humor drains from their faces and their mouths contort into a “why” dumber and sadder than people who still blame Yoko. Novelty, then, now, forever, is the enemy of joy.

I think it sounds nice. But, outside of Earth, Wind & Fire, and the occasional Springsteen song, people can be real wimps about horns. I’m still hoping the noise rock revival extends to them though.

This was a toss up with old Bob Newhartstand-up LPs. For some reason drunk dudes never seem to enjoy droll absurdist humor performed in a very low-key manner by the elderly. They mistakenly believe this to be unsexy I suppose. Bob Elliot is also Chris Elliot’sdad, for extra bar clearing effect. In terms of Spoken Word stuff (which, really, outside of Def Jam Poetry, might sort of be cheating) I also recommend Robert Caro’s reading from his own “The Passage of Power.” I always assume coked-out brokers take umbrage to Caro’s refusal to cut Lyndon Johnson the least bit of slack. I agree. But a shared enthusiasm for our 36th President doesn’t entitle you to another drink at 3:55AM, my friend.

Possibly the only album on the list that could work pre-closing time. 24/7 bummer music/human bummer repellent. And this is the pre-AIDS album. See ya, jerks. It’s 4AM and that means our relationship is over. Let us part as not exactly friends. Look, I’m even, in the flabby contortion that my face allows, smiling. I don’t even mind you slurring “keep the change” after handing over $40 on a $37 tab…because when you were doing such a garbage job of handing off that vial to your pal an hour ago, I saw you drop a $20. Thanks and good night!

Zachary Lipez is Noisey's mixology correspondent. He's on Twitter - @ZacharyLipez