Last Call
Again with the ’80s
Last CallLast week, Chow, Baby offered an elegiac tribute to Sardines Ristorante Italiano, a recently departed, fondly remembered Italian restaurant that quickly reincarnated into Studio 80, a dance club themed around the decade that sa...
Assumptions and Illusions
Last CallRemember how I mentioned recently that Spencer’s Corner closed? While I’m sure plenty of haters cackled with glee, the double-decker Westside house of trashy fun had a lot of fans, and for anyone who remembers a night out t...
Whiskey, Rye, Fineness
Last CallMy afternoon had already taken me to a carpet bar on 28th Street, where the aura was interesting enough that I thought the place deserved more research than just an after-lunch stop. After settling into my post-Halloween hair o...
Redneck Heaven, Garlic Bread Hell
Last CallEvery time I’m on 820 as it loops north of Haltom City, I see the sign. It says Redneck Heaven, and it applies to a gigantic bar and grill with motorcycles parked in front of it. And every time, I think, Oh, geez.
Zio Carlo Brew Pub:
Old World CharmLast Call
Walking down Magnolia to the convenience store on College Avenue the other day, I had the idea that I would grab a beer on my way to buying a Red Bull. I was procrastinating, avoiding writing at home, you see, and I figured tha...
From Here
Last CallToward the end of Saturday, Holy Moly frontman Joe Rose looked out from the stage into the crowd at The Aardvark, pointed a tattooed finger in the air, and yelled, “We’re Holy Moly, and we’re from this motherfuckin’ tow...
Bull, Bush, Bluesface
Last CallI’m a fan of entertainment districts, especially on weekends. When it comes to weekday drinking, however, nothing beats a neighborhood pub.
Randi’s 2 to 2: A Redux
Last CallSo back in June, I happened upon a bar on Hwy. 377 called Last Call, adjoining a defunct bar called J-Z’s R&B.
Division Intervention
Last CallYou might say I’ve been feeling the funk a little, and not the kind that comes out of Parliament’s Mothership. More specifically, it’s a summertime blues spawned from a host of disappointments led by the dreadful weather....
High-way to Hell
Last CallOn Saturday night, it finally happened. For the first time in recorded history, I wasn’t the highest person at a Whataburger. That title belonged to the guy at the Hemphill Street location who was so baked he could have doubl...