30°/-90°

You hear the brass blast out onto Frenchmen Street before you even hit the door at the venue. The long line on the crowded sidewalk moves fast if you've got your cash ready for the cover charge. Security checks IDs quick at the threshold and you're stepping straight into the thick of the sweaty room without ever wasting a single second of the buzzing night.

It's a narrow space that gets deafeningly loud real quick. The small stage sits right by the front glass windows so folks walking past can watch the band play right through the glass. Ceiling fans spin slow over a massive crowd packed shoulder to shoulder and the wooden floorboards shake hard and fast every single time the energetic drummer kicks the heavy bass drum.

Bartenders sling tall boys and heavy whiskey pours without ever slowing down their hectic pace. You won't find any fancy craft cocktails here and nobody's trying to impress anyone with a pretentious drink order. People spill out onto the back patio when it gets too hot inside, leaving the tired sax player wailing notes near the open front entrance.