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This venue is closed.

Carved out of the bombed-out interior of an old Bushwick bodega (the exterior signage still touts the El Elevado Deli Corp.), this decrepit-on-purpose tiny music venue is all exposed pipes, slapdash ceiling paint, and caked sweat. The main room is on the ground-level floor, a surprisingly well lit space where large-scale doodles of thunder bolts and Japanese-monster-movie robots deck the white walls. The bands play on the floor in the back, with rambunctious crowds usually spilling into the night’s acts. Downstairs is the expansive, grody basement, the type of place that would be good for stashing bodies if it weren’t already overrun with Brooklynites sucking down $3 Buds. — Amos Barshad