How underground of a club is CBGB? They don't have a MySpace profile. They don't have a Friendster account. They don't have a Web site. Hell, they don't even have a phone number. News of shows spreads via word-of-mouth (or by showing up to inquire what's going on). It's so 1995 in the best, photocopied-zine sort of way. Locals (faves include Sex Robots and Bunnygrunt) and out-of-town bands alike prowl the stage, the back wall of which happens to be CBGB's front window. Even on a Monday the place is likely to be packed with south-side scenesters soaking up ultra-hip tunes. Oh, and with the Creepy Crawl ensconced in its spankin'-new location, the grungy CBGB restrooms are now undisputedly the most infamous commodes in town.