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A green-and-brown sign out front and décor heavy on Irish beer paraphernalia may mark Iggy's as one of innumerable UES dives, but its beer-splattered heart belongs unabashedly to karaoke. Clumps of clean-cut guys in pastel caps and fleeces and ponytailed girls in satiny lingerie tops and Seven jeans cluster around tattered, damp songbooks that span 10,000 Maniacs to ZZ Top. Weeknights bring a minority of after-work suits, Mariah Carey wannabes in apparent need of rehearsal space, and other local hangers-on who wander in alone. Bartenders cajole the self-conscious, sing along, and even take the stage—a low platform against the central back wall. The whole place is so good natured and loopy that even the most jaded, tone-deaf culture snob would be hard-pressed not to crack a smile or join the chorus, gleefully fumbling to keep pace with lyrics scrolling on strategically placed TVs. — Kate Appleton

Daily, 7:30pm