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The mural on the cobalt-blue wall outside shows Kiss in full-70s greasepaint, but push through the tin door and you’re more likely to do the wave than to rock and roll all night. Beneath pennants for the Jets, Mets, Yanks and Knicks comes the unexpected revelatory connection: jocks, like rockers, enjoy a slowly building buzz facilitated by an attractive bartender. At each of the clustered, paper-topped tables, thirsty sports fans pace themselves while enjoying unobstructed views of mammoth TVs at rear. Patrons who’d rather program the classic-rock jukebox sit near the entrance. There isn’t much room to roam beyond the corner nook with pool table, but some guys know how to make the most of a night of jalapeno-and-cheese fries and beer-battered chicken fingers. — Alec Appelbaum

The owners set the tone for this busy corner. The moody-rocker haven The Library a couple doors down is theirs.

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