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This venue is closed.

Not too long ago, the Bowery was where New York let its irremediable drunks live out their days isolated from the civilized world. Now, if Pioneer Bar is any indication, the Bowery is where New York hides an equally pitiable population: that particular portion of the crowd whose males wear the uniform of un-tucked button-downs and baseball caps, and whose females are skinny, stumbling, and squealing. It’s a good thing Pioneer is so big—this black airplane hanger of a bar looks like it can hold them all. If you should happen to wander in here, an accidental refugee from Nolita, you’ll find the music is lightly remixed hip-hop hits (heavy on OutKast one night), and the drinks at least achieve a nice balance between cheap and strong. — Matt Gross