Profile

Besides the poster of Pete Townshend bashing his guitar into a Marshall stack, a few other subtle things at this narrow, unassuming corner bar could be said to point to the namesake amp: The black chairs (lined up at bare-wood two-tops overlooking Allen Street) have a similar white trim; one brass-colored, chipped-plaster wall brings to mind a Marshall’s coppery innards. Classic- and prog-rock bands on the throwback jukebox evidence the amp in action, but don't expect the scene to be turned up to eleven: The smattering of patrons are old enough to recall their days at Welcome to the Johnsons. This isn't the place to bite the head off a bat while strobes fire. Instead, bask in the amber Art Deco lights and bite into an English-muffin pizza, or a Cuban sandwich served on a Sullivan Street bakery ciabatta. — Daniel Maurer