Friday, 19 July 2019

Beelzebubs


17–19 Church Street, Cardiff [map]


Beelzebub. Proper noun. A name for the Devil. Origin: From late Latin Beëlzebub, translating Hebrew ba'al zĕḇūḇ 'lord of flies', the name of a Philistine god (2 Kings 1:2), and Greek Beelzeboul 'the Devil' (Matt. 12:24).

Which is certainly at the more esoteric end of the spectrum when it comes to picking a name for your bar.


Fortunately, contrary to the brewhouse's monicker, heading inside is less like descending into the depths of hell and more like approaching a counter packed with craft beers that share a particularly identifiable branding aesthetic. So that's a relief.


I can't actually remember what this is but I do vaguely recall that, if you drink too many of them, it's a pretty accurate reflection of the state of your urine the following morning.


Looks like there's some sort of sporting activity taking place, no doubt involving men and balls. Which makes a change.


Holy shit, where did this lot come from?

Still, you've got to love that bloke's natty flat cap/horn-rimmed specs/patterned scarf combo. I bet he's got really great trousers as well. After all, the devil has all the best pantaloons.

Taxi!

Tuesday, 14 May 2019

The Flute & Tankard


4 Windsor Place, Cardiff [map]


So, here we are back at The Flute & Tankard for the first time in aeons. In fact, we haven't been here since it was still called The Promised Land (of which more presently). 

As you can see, they've sent out the welcoming committee.


We amble towards the main bar, which is reassuringly busy.

Always good to see punters engage in that classic drinking trope in which you pour the remains of one drink into another pint that you've taken a few sips of (bottom left). We all do it, don't we, even though it's *entirely pointless*.


Down the far end and there's no shortage of imbibing going on as the world is set to rights. All good stuff.


Head upstairs and there's a second bar along with extra seating in a space that also doubles as a function room.

Back in 'the day', we put on a few gigs here, with varying degrees of success, although the first one was particularly memorable as we somehow managed to get the Guardian website to run a preview of it (back when they had a local Cardiff blogger), and subsequently packed the place out with a bill that was headlined by a drummerless two-piece who sounded like The Fall being clonked repeatedly over the head with a small brass instrument (but in a good way).

Unfortunately, The Promised Land shut down unceremoniously when the owners did a runner just before Christmas one year, taking the wages that staff were owed with them. Not so much The Promised Land, more The Really Shitty Thing to Do Land.


Anyway, back to the present-day. While The Flute & Tankard is just off a stretch of Queen Street that you perhaps wouldn't naturally gravitate towards of an evening, it's well worth popping in for a swift pint if you're passing.

Just bear in mind that there's significantly less chance these days that you'll stumble upon a gig here featuring a "guitar/skronk/drum machine/cornet/abuse duo".

Sunday, 3 February 2019

The Head of Steam


18–19 Church Street, Cardiff [map]


Previously the site of a Harvester and, going back into the mists of time even further, Old Orleans, these sizeable premises have now been given a rail-themed scrub-up and transformed into a jack-of-all-trades bar. You know: craft ales, food, sport, live DJs. And so on.


There's a swathe of these places in the north but this is their first venture into Wales.

I don't really get the whole train-based vibe – why would you want to remind customers of our failing rail network of an evening? – but at least they don't take the theme to its logical conclusion: "Due to signalling problems, this pint has been diverted via Prestatyn and will be delayed by approximately two days. We apologise for any inconvenience caused."


Not entirely sure what The Photographer was aiming for with this shot. Still, as you can see, they've got some lovely wooden and tiled criss-cross flooring.


Now, I do like a booth and these are very well done, with lamps, charging points and – a nice touch this, you have to agree – overhead coat racks.


Upstairs, and there's a kind of vintage, industrial chic vibe afoot. And that's just the customers.


Blimey, this room is so bright it could have written A Brief History of Time.

Sunday, 21 October 2018

Coyote Ugly Saloon


78 St Mary Street, Cardiff [map]


So, here we are outside Coyote Ugly (formerly The Square about a million years ago) on an otherwise unremarkable Saturday afternoon, somewhat alarmed by the convoluted velvet rope/steel barrier walkway you have to negotiate to even make it to the door.

Not to mention the extravagantly lopsided ratio of security personnel (three) to punters in queue (zero). Maybe they're expecting trouble. Well, The Photographer has got a thirst on.


Before you make it into the primary room, there's this little side bar. We can only approve of the sort of place that enables you to get a drink on your way to getting a drink.


Well, this is awkward. There we are trying to peer at the medley of booze on offer behind the main bar and next thing you know there's a woman clad in cowboy boots and fishnet tights cavorting about right on top of the bloody counter.

This, we later learn, is *a thing* round these parts, but it doesn't half make you worry about getting your pint kicked over.


Heaven forbid you go here in a mixed group. Instead, the unwritten rule seems to be: men on one side, women on the other. Making the whole enterprise akin to a liquor-powered school disco. Just with worse music.


Oh god, the music. Did we mention the music? It's less aural pleasure, more psychological warfare – the sort of soundtrack that would have made you sympathise with Manuel Noriega.

The torture is compounded by the fact that the cheerleaders sashaying on the bar – mind that pint! – are prone to start caterwauling along at any given moment.


Still, anywhere that's got a bucking bronco is fine by us.

Friday, 21 April 2017

Kongs


114–116 St Mary Street, Cardiff [map]


Formerly a (slightly odd) rock bar called Charlie Browns, this is now a retro arcade games, table football and ping pong-based joint.

Combine this with some delicious fizzy lager and you can't go wrong.


There's a kind of minimalist-industrial vibe afoot – someone clearly got a good deal on a job lot of plywood.


It's the old-school videogames that are the real draw – Donkey Kong, Track & Field, Double Dragon and the like. Surely no one has fond memories of NBA Jam though?


What you can see in progress here is the worst attempt to play a game of 1942 in the history of coin-ops.

Turns out that successfully taking part in a World War II dogfight following the consumption of five pints of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale is easier said than done (and it's not even that easy to say).


Further inside again and there's 2003 drive-'em-up OutRun 2 adjacent to a weird glowing wall. And some more plywood. Obviously.

Friday, 6 January 2017

Hopbunker


5–7 Queen Street, Cardiff [map]


After various incarnations over the years, including short-lived rock joint Bogiez, much-missed indie toilet the Barfly and raffle pedlar the Rose & Crown, this corner of Queen Street is now, officially, a bunker of booze.

Which, if you are going to be stuck in a bunker for any length of time, isn't a bad one to be in.


Negotiate the spiral staircase – easier said than done if you're in the midst of a serious all-dayer and are experiencing some issues with regards to maintaining a vertical base – and you're rewarded with a bar brimming with real ales, craft beers and various other libations in which myriad obscure things have been done to unsuspecting hops.

In other words, the Foster's is off – permanently.


There's a curious ambience to the place, partly because it's underground and has no natural light, and partly because the interior looks as if it's been furnished from an Argos catalogue circa 1996.


Still, just look at that beer menu.


It's all too much for that bloke at the bottom left to cope with. "Butcombe Yeti? Lincoln Green Marion? Mahrs Bräu Ungespundet? I just can't decide!" (And we didn't even make any of those up.)


The novelty urinal is a bit of a thing these days, isn't it?

Sunday, 13 November 2016

Bierkeller


Stadium Plaza, Wood Street, Cardiff [map]


It's been a while, hasn't it? Anyhow, what better way to pick things up again than at the, erm, Bierkeller Entertainment Complex, a wholly inauthentic conglomerate of themed bars that's part of the Stadium Plaza.


We head first for Shooters, a sports bar with an unholy focus on session lagers.


It's one of those nondescript, drizzly Sunday afternoons, so it's pretty quiet in here. Even the promise of watching some blokes kick a ball about on a big telly isn't that much of a draw, it seems.


The pool tables sit dormant, forgotten relics of analogue entertainment from a time before the invention Pokémon Go.


The actual Bierkeller element of the booze compound is shut, so we instead amble towards the building's third bar, Around the World.


The place actually dispenses a fine array of international lagery delights, including Sagres, Sam Adams, Sierra Nevada and Super Bock. The decision to stock only beverages beginning with the letter S is, however, a curious one.


But here's the really alarming thing about the place. The urinals are equipped with a 'beat the goalie' game, which you control by – there's no nice way of putting this – weeing on sensors built into the latrines.

It's often said that people have low boredom thresholds these days. But not even being able to spend a penny without having some form of entertainment on offer does seem a bit much.

The Photographer suggests it's taking the piss but is swiftly reminded that this blog would never stoop to making use of such a terrible pun.