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In any other location, the industrial-sized, pine-planked Redd's would be hopping on a Friday night, its plush couches and lantern-lit patio filled with groups of drinkers. Apparently it takes a little more of a gimmick—like Barcade's trove of vintage video games or Royal Oak's college-age sleaze—to earn the attention of Williamsburg bar-goers. But what Redd's lacks in novelty it makes up for in comfort: A stack of wax-paper bags waits to be filled with gratis popcorn, and the classic-rock jukebox, spiked with Sonic Youth and Elvis Costello, treads on pleasantly familiar ground. In the winter, bartenders heat up toddies and apple cider on hot plates. Next to a red, illuminated Esso gas pump, a makeshift stage hosts the occasional jazz band or singer-songwriter, and the bar has an accommodating booking policy toward eager acts. Of course, the lack of a crowd affords an opportunity, too: Curl up with a few friends and a pint of Summer Blue Moon, and lounge like you own the place. — Michael Silverberg