Since we last met I’ve been busy with Anthrax, playing guitar in and co-managing Pearl, writing for a side project called Methusaleh with some lovely fellows that play in some major bands (I can’t say shit about it right now other than the songs are fucking heavy, like a more metallic Kyuss), playing poker professionally (!), and watching and re-watching "Lost." I've been so busy, in fact, that I’ve barely been eating or drinking. Combine all that with working out and hiking and I actually feel somewhat healthy. So I decided to take this past weekend off and hit L.A. hard -- like olden times.

I used to go out a lot in this town; from 1995 – 2000 you couldn’t not find me at a bar. I used to love Small’s (now 40 Deuce), The Coronet (gone), Daddy’s (gone), Max’s (now The Dime), Frolic Room (still with us), Coach & Horses (kicking ass), The Whiskey Bar (called something else now I
think), The Chateau, and Dublin’s, etc., etc... the memories blur.

I spent a large part of the late '90s stumbling home from these places, sometimes five miles worth of stumbling. I used to walk off the Irish Car Bombs at Daddy’s by somehow hoofing it from Vine and Selma back to my place in Kosher Canyon. I was like a pinball in the dark Hollywood night, bouncing off poles, walls, parked cars and finally my bed. Luckily I never got hurt. Jackass.

My booze years ended in 2000 (love will do that to you) and the lost nights, weekends, weeks, months came to a halt. Food became my new poison and booze was it’s fancy dance partner.

My plan this weekend was to hit something new and something old. New
would be Foxtail, the new supper club by Brent Bolthouse and the machine that is SBE. They own every top club in town, most of which are not my vibe, as my taste in bars is more akin to Tiny’s KO than Area. Foxtail has a restaurant downstairs and a soon to be open bar upstairs. I saw some pics of Foxtail on the web and I liked the menu (French bistro style and I’m a sucker for Steak Frites) so I had to go check it out.

A crew of us got a table at 9 p.m. and we walked into an art nouveau fantasy of a bar. The place is beautiful; Slick and warm at the same time. I really liked the energy in the room as we sat down. It didn’t feel clubby/trendy/douchebaggy. It instantly reminded me of Moomba NYC circa 1997/1998, which was the best place to hang out ever. Exclusive but without the pretension, which isn’t easy to pull off. I ordered a Kiwi Julep made with Woodford Reserve Bourbon, fresh lemon juice, fresh Kiwi and baby Angel’s tears. I got the Tuna Tartar to start and shared the Mussels with my brother. Both good. The tuna could use a touch of Scotch Bonnet oil, but that’s just me. The Steak Frites did not disappoint. The filet was cooked perfect, the frites were great (fried in duck fat?), and the side of a fried egg with shaved black truffles put it over the top. Fuck, I’m making myself hungry. Fucking French fries. I’m drooling like Homer S.

Brent Bolthouse ended up at our table and we closed the place. The food was killer and not prohibitively priced. The steak was easily ten to fifteen bucks cheaper than the top steak places in town and the drinks were worth their weight in gold. The upstairs bar is supposed to open any day now. I highly recommend Foxtail for a killer LA via NY night out.

And now to the oldie but still goodie. The ‘Bow! Yes, the Rainbow on the Strip, still kicking ass. In the '80s when the Rainbow was hair band central, I stayed away like it had the plague. In the '90s I was too busy at the aforementioned bars to visit the old dog. In the 2000s I have come to love the place. Its roots are so deeply planted in the history of ROCK and the attitude oozes from the walls. You can smell the drinks that Keith Moon spilled. This place has soul. I showed up with a crew of 14, the place was packed, we grabbed the back booth and got Guinnessy. I had already eaten dinner but the smell of tomato sauce so permeates the place, like one of Pavlov’s dogs I obediently ordered a pizza. The Rainbow has great diner food. The steak is good. The pizza isn’t Mozza or Patsy’s or Lombardi’s but it’s good. It’s all good. If you’ve never been to the ‘Bow, go.

Cheers,
Scott


Scott Ian plays guitar for revolutionary metal band Anthrax and also for Pearl.

Artwork credit: Shepard Fairey