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This venue is closed.

Picture Blondie in bed with The Strokes. Their offspring would feel right at home at Sixes and Eights. Hidden behind a black, sign-free façade, this bi-level bar exudes red-light district, disco-ball glam—worn slightly rotten from one too many wild nights. Black vinyl banquettes and giant framed mirrors line one side of the airily elegant main room where an almost stately chandelier hangs from the high, pressed-tin ceiling. At the long bar, lowbrow drinks sport high roller names; the parade of the young bed-heads, many of them leather-clad off-duty rockers, arrive late-late with gig bags in tow. Slugs are available for the slot machines in the carpeted, bean bag-studded rec room below. Promoter nights drive most of the week with Fridays and Saturdays steadily delivering skinny bods and sweaty rock. — Andrew Paine Bradbury