Untapped Baltimore: Sidebar Tavern’s punk rock scene doesn’t apologize

Bathrooms tell a lot about the personality of a building, house or even a person. I'm thinking of that friend at home whose parents have the small, neatly-folded and completely useless towels hanging from tasteful, polished ring towel holders. Those little lavender pieces of cloth that match the throw rug on the ground, the hand soap and the flowers on the wallpaper. That bathroom says, "Your mom is kind of crazy and has too much time on her hands now that you and your sister are both in college."

If you've ever been to Golden West Café in Hampden, the floor to ceiling vinyl album covers that tile the walls offer hodge-podge representative of the restaurant and the neighborhood as a whole. But relieve yourself in the bathroom of the Sidebar Tavern and you will have a much clearer idea of what I'm rambling about. Hundreds of band stickers speckle the black, less than luxurious lavatory. Outrageous punk rock band names such as "Love Rub and the Chocolate Delight" scroll across the walls, sink bowl and toilet seat. The room is punk in all senses of the word, from the loud stickers everywhere to the unapologetic positioning of them (i.e. the toilet seat and bowl). And that's what the Sidebar is: punk in all ways. This Thursday I had a chance to experience this venue, accompanied by the musical stylings of Whiff and The Dead Women.

The Sidebar Tavern, located in close proximity to Baltimore Street near the Inner Harbor, is only a brief three-block walk from where the #11 bus spits you out. Even at night, walking through the front door (once you find it) your eyes need a moment to adjust to the dimness. The Tavern entrance way presents itself as a 10 x 10 wood-floor platform and then crumbles away to a dozen steep steps into the actual venue on the left. The bare brick walls and ribbed, unfinished ceiling above are equally as representative of the space's featured genre as the bathroom. The venue does not apologize for its appearance. It has an attitude, similar to punk music and specifically, Whiff and the Dead Women.

As is the case for most Concert Thursdays, a member of Whiff hopped up from his seat next to me and took his place at his drum set right before their set began. The band played fast and loud and didn't care much for delicacy or tactfulness, which was fine with all in attendance. Among those patrons, I was out of place without any type of leather clothing and/or studded outer wear. Although I did think to wear a somber looking black T-shirt, it did not save me from looking like an outsider in this underground punk clubhouse. I was at least two piercings short of blending in.

Whiff embodied a typical punk band and had the sound of a group that made it past the first cut for the Tony Hawk Pro Skater videogame soundtrack. But The Dead Women brought with them a sound that was simultaneously unique and in agreement with the punk scene at the Sidebar. The band played fast and loud at times, but the ebb and flow of their music differed from the constancy of Whiff's volume and tempo. The Dead Women sounded more like the Smiths gone punk than just a wailing front man and a demanding drumbeat. They played with more exactness and cooed a little more emphatically than Whiff, and they made my first delve into live punk music a much smoother transition as a result.

First impressions brand brains with an expectation for the rest of a relationship. And whether that relationship is with your friend and his mom with crazy purple towels or with a frenetic bathroom, the impression will always remain at the forefront of any and all things related to that experience. For me, Sidebar's bathroom was an immediate selling point on the loud, in-your-face and authentic atmosphere of the Sidebar Tavern. Whiff and The Dead Women also began my relationship with live punk rock on the right foot. They allowed me to sample the microcosm of Baltimore's punk rock scene, and I will now be taking part in it much more often.