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Hidden behind an inauspicious and muffled black door, this sly little bar greets its guests with well-worn vintage furniture, a goofy theatrical throne and bootleg photographs of classic rock and jazz icons, from Tom Waits and the Beatles to Sarah Vaughn and B.B. King. Pool studs dominate the one nicely maintained table, while East Village regulars flop on damaged couches (luckily, the candlelight is so dim you can't see where you're sitting). Like any spot worth its maraschino cherries, the Musical Box has followed its sine curve of popularity. As it's drifted off the hot-spot radar, it's been reincarnated as what it should have always been: a comfortable place for East Villagers tired of searching for that new new bar.  — Logan Hill