Rock & roll isn't about trust funds, shaggy haircuts, too-small T-shirts and excessive eyeliner. It's about sleazy riffs, cheap beer and waking up with a hangover so bad that only gobbling White Castle sliders will cure it. That combo's hard to come by in this age of fashioncore and trend-hopping, which is why the 24-hour bar/music haven that is Pop's oozes rock from all directions. Situated in the same general vicinity as the Oz Nightclub and the strip club Diamond Cabaret, the venue is versatile enough to hold shows from national punk, metal and industrial luminaries -- Ministry, Hatebreed and Alkaline Trio stopped by for gigs in the past year -- but still proletariat enough for cover bands and local-CD release parties. The same unpretentious attitude carries over to its infamous late-night atmosphere (see "Best Place to Drown Your Sorrows"), when booze-fueled debauchery rivals Las Vegas in scope. Grizzled rock dragged from the trenches isn't for the faint of heart -- and neither is Pop's.
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