Coffee shops, kind of like bars, are morally obligated to have awesome music — that’s why we’re no huge fan of Cocoa Bar, which to this day still plays Dave Matthews Band. But we have to hand it to Starbucks (yes, we’re complimenting Starbucks). In an obvious ploy to woo hipsters, they asked indie darlings like David Cross, Chloë Sevigny, Dave Eggers, and Beck to pick their favorite songs by Sonic Youth — you know, pretty much the best band ever — for a compilation CD that will be sold only at the 'Bucks. If the chain shows this much good taste in those new bevies it’s about to launch, we’ll be sipping them every day.

The SONIC YOUTH Starbucks tracklist (curated by Radiohead, David Cross, Beck, Eddie Vedder, Flaming Lips...) [Brooklyn Vegan]

Tomorrow at the Tasting Room, playwrights Theresa Rebeck, Sam Forman, and Amy Herzog — with the help of Tony-nominated actors — will debut plays written specifically for the evening, paired with appropriate food and wine by chef Colin Alevras. Obviously goings-on in the dining room aren’t always so highbrow. Yesterday we stopped in for an Old MacDonald’s Burger (a.k.a. the “hearts and parts” burger) and our brunch was enriched not by thespians, but by Thurston Moore.

In the time we’ve been doing House Mix, we’ve heard a surprising amount of AC/DC in the city’s dining rooms. So where to go for something slightly more mellow — heck, maybe even some oldies but goodies? Peasant and its sister restaurant, Bacaro, are pretty reliable bets. We recently visited the former and the night took us from Patty’s “Mixed-Up, Shook-Up Girl” to, um, Madonna’s “Material Girl.”

Pop Burger was the original burger joint–cum–party spot, so when partner Kevin O'Connell opened Burger Shoppe in the financial district a couple weeks ago, we were curious to see what would be on the house sound system. Would the soda-fountain motif carry over into personal jukeboxes playing Perry Como, or would top 40 rule the roost? To find out, we settled down with some bone-marrow toasts and a burger made from pork belly. (According to our waitress, no one has gone for the $150 Kobe beef, foie gras, and truffle burger, and we weren’t about to be the first ones to splurge.)

Back when Spotted Pig owner Ken Friedman first clued us in to the Rusty Knot, in the old West space, he said little more than, “We’re doing a little dive bar there — it’s going to have a pool table and a jukebox.” In this week’s issue, chef Joaquin Baca tells us what “dive bar” means (an addictive chicken liver, bacon, and avocado sandwich, it turns out), but he doesn’t say anything about the jukebox. All we can say is, don’t expect to hear Masta Ace or New Young Pony Club, like you might at the Pig.

On Monday night, we stopped into Terroir (Hearth’s already-packed new wine bar), where conspicuously mustachioed Thomas Crowley of Bar Veloce happened to be sampling his neighbor’s wares. We’re sure he loved the food and drink just like we did, but the bartender was concerned that he might not be digging the music. That’s because during the entire time we were there, we had to listen to Buena Vista Social Club.

Elettaria’s space was formerly occupied by the 8th Wonder, where a young Jimi Hendrix performed. So is his ghost still setting guitars (or at least flambés) on fire? Since proprietors Akhtar Nawab and Noel Cruz are big into classic rock (Akhtar is a bass player who loves him some Rush), we figured it was a strong possibility that after the early-evening jazz and blues, it would be, “Move over Rover, let Jimi take over…”

Jonathan Ames, self-described “journalist with bad breath, bad teeth, bad hair, and bad debt,” penned a hilarious essay for Spin about infiltrating GoldBar with the likes of Lenny Kravitz, who despite living a few blocks away takes a Town Car to the club (what, no Escalade?). Ames is blown away by the fact that Cameron Diaz isn’t even the prettiest girl in the place, which is “loaded with perfume, emanating from the dozens and dozens of beautiful girls” (hm, nothing about the smell of cigarette smoke). Kravitz, meanwhile, has been there, done that, hence this lyric from one of his new songs: “The night is young, GoldBar's the place to be.” With that in mind, we slipped in last night for a $17 drink and a plate of his favorite truffle fries, to see if Kravitz's name check has earned him a place on GB's playlist.

Last night’s victory unleashed total fandemonium on the streets, especially in the area of the Village Pourhouse where half a dozen police cars were summoned to keep a watchful eye on NYU students chanting “18-1,” “Go Giants” and, er, “Go Jets.” Inside, sliders left over from the halftime competitive eating contest sat untouched while at least one dude stripped off his shirt and sang “We Are the Champions.” Because we’ve never been in a bar before where every single person was belting out “Uptown Girl,” we recorded the rest of the triumphant playlist for posterity.

Does the Spotted Pig have music cred? Yeah, maybe just a little bit. Owner Ken Friedman used to be an industry player, and his partner Jay-Z is, well, Jay-Z. We recall being kicked out of the upstairs alcove so that Franz Ferdinand could take it over after a show (front man Alex Kapranos is a fan of the lamb shank with crusted celery root). With these musician types having their run of the place, what’s playing on a quiet Tuesday night?