Let's be a gay piano bar!

I'm the piano, which hasn't been tuned since 1993.

I'm Debbie, the giant, fat, straight woman who hangs out there all the time but can actually sing, so everybody knows me by name and I'm sort of a fixture.

I'm the owner of Zippers in Toronto, originally from Trinidad, waiting for my coked up hooker "roommate" #23 to arrive.

I'm the air of misery permeating from all of the given up, dashed, Broadway dreams.

I'm the fake, forced applause coming from the off-tune queen's group of friends cheering him on.

I'm "One" from A Chorus Line, being played for the millionth time.

[quote] I'm the air of misery permeating from all of the given up, dashed, Broadway dreams.

I was going to say just this, almost word for word. Who ARE you??

R2 Thanks for sharing the plot to Dumplin'

I'm Martuni's in San Francisco.

R3 I know who you are talking about....I was one of those "roommates"...... I got wise. I'm strictly at Woody's now

Are you one of the staff, R10?

I'm the 39 year old and I'm the youngest man here. I love all of the attention! Heehee

Piano bars served a wonderful function for so many years for so many young men who were either closeted (and yearning to come out), gay and loved musical theater but didn't have other guys to share their love for it, older men in the closet for many, many years and had built a social circle around the piano or at the bar.

Personally, I found piano bars to be far less intimidating than the poorly lit cruisy bar down the street. Their was far less pose and piss going on at a piano bar than other places and I could still score some cock.

I'm Blanche Devereaux, clearly, indisputably out of place. I intended to walk into the Rusty Anchor, but went two doors down by mistake and walked into the the Greasy Screw instead.

I'm the smell of stale cigarettes.

I'm the overpriced drinks.

I'm all the female diva songs that gay men try to sing. They never attempt songs written for men, only women.

I Know Him So Well

What I Did For Love

Anything sung by Patti LuPone

Anything sung by Betty Buckley

Anything sung by Bernadette Peters

Anything sung by Bette Midler

Anything sung by Linda Eder

I'm the man who looks and sounds just like Patti Lupone.

I'm the ivory, and I just love to be tickled!

I'm the drunken bachelorettes who quickly realize they've entered the wrong bar.

[quote]I'm the drunken bachelorettes who quickly realize they've entered the wrong bar.

And then decide to stay because "gays r fun."

I'm the pissed off pianist at Marie's Crisis who stops in the middle of a song and tells the drunken bachelorettes to stop being so rude and talking louder than the music.

I'm Scott. I'm the vanguard eldergay of this place and have been coming her since this place opened up. I'm always dressed up, sit at the same table right at the front, and order classic Manhattans.

I’m FOLLIES.

I’m the college town with the strong musical theater program that has all the cute twinks belting out flawless Broadway standards, much better than the old queen trolls who usually populate these joints. True story!

I'm the song that is *owned* by a singer.

It's Saturday night:

Gay man #1 always sings "Maybe This Time"

Gay man #2 always sings "Fifty Percent"

Gay man #3 always sings "Time Heals Everything"

There *WILL* be hell to pay if you, an unknowing stranger, walk into the bar and attempt to sing one of the "owned* songs.,

I'm a piano bar in Nashville, TN. In addition to showtunes, we sing uptempo gospel songs. You should hear us gay Baptist boys sing "I'll Fly Away."

We're Valentina and Svetlana, the Russian cleaning ladies who make whole place sparkling clean and brand new each morning. Our wages are low, but we don't care because we also collect the SD card from the high-def micro cam in the small bathroom, uploading the content to our gay pay per view porn site "Cruisingcumholes.com."

I am Albert, your soprano cocktail waiter.

I'm Suddenly Seymour. Every night.

I'm the John and Steve, the married gay couple with boundaries, who only feel comfortable coming to this gay bar.

I'm 48 but I wear ass hugging jeans and a tight t-shirt. I love the attention I get here.

I'm the exhausted piano player.

I am the drunk actor who can't sing warbling "Melancholy Baby" while sliding down his bar stool.

I'm Steve's fuck buddy @R30. Keep it on the down low. John is clueless.

Time for my famous rendition of "Me and Mrs. Jones."

I'm Miss Kiana Moss, the ridiculous Diana Ross drag impersonator who's about three decades past her sell-by date. I take the whole Miss Ross impersonation thing way too seriously to the point where the other patrons are openly hostile to me. I'm obnoxious. By nights end, Steven the chain smoking gay, will "accidentally" set my wig on fire, taking me from Lady Sings the Blues to Flaming Mame. Lonnie, his gay lover, will finish me off by "accidentally" throwing a glass of water on my head which turns out be be 100 proof vodka! "I, I will survive!"

I'm Steve's roving eyes whenever a college drama twink takes the stage.

I'm the jealous twitch in John's mouth whenever he catches Steve eyeing some other, younger man.

I'm the moves the regulars put on new guys which haven't worked since, oh, the Cuban Missile Crisis but, God bless them, they keep trying.

I am Vinny the bartender and I love all of the very generous tips I get in this joint! I've worked straight clubs, gay dance-clubs, and nobody tips me better than these queens!

I know this isn't the place for this, but when I was a young gayling just coming to terms with myself, the only place I felt comfortable was the gay piano bar in Wrigleyville (Sidetracks?). I was probably the embarrassing queen the OP talks about belting out the showtunes along with the piano player (I remember one night he told me he thought my harmony on The Rose was great...probably an indication he wanted me to go home...) who was drunker than I should have been.

So I thank God for the gay piano bar. It may not have saved my life (though maybe it did), but it gave me an entry point into the gay world.

I'm Felix, the bar owner's pet cat and I need an intervention.

I'm The Townhouse. You'll be paying me a visit after the college drama twink at Brandy's spurns your eldergay advances.

I'm the inevitable, drunken argument John and Steve will have after they get home about Steve flirting with the barback.

I’m the twink admitting to cheating on my boyfriend by playing the piano and singing a slow tempo, heart wrenching version of Teenage Dream, the song I sang when we first met at Dalton Academy - oh sorry that was a plot point on Glee, not a real life experience, carry on!

I'm the groans in the room when somebody's drunk faghag takes the mic and sings terribly.

R40 - You might be talking about Gentry on Halsted. It closed a while ago. I was just about to reference it...

I'm the queen at the piano making the same jokes every weekend, which just involve calling everyone a bottom.

(seriously, he desperately needed a new shtick).

I'm also an aspiring club manager eyeing the space for a dance club once all these old queens finally leave. Soon, I'll be getting Yelp reviews like, "This place is goals."

Yep...that's it, r46. Sidetracks was the video bar back then...ca. 1992.

We are Rudy de la Mor and Momi Star, and we're your entertainment for tonight (if tonight was any night in 1973). We are the last of the piano bar entertainers whose "schticks" are rapid fire songs, quick changes of hats and costumes, and witty repartee (one favorite: whenever anyone younger than 75 comes in, we will start clucking like a chicken...get it?)

We've both been dead for many years now, but no one has bothered to take our"Appearing Nitely" posters down from the downstairs lounge (where they have been hanging since 1980).

I'm Milan the used to be hot bartender who now works in the Piano bar. Queens still tip me well due to my legendary big dick, little do they know it's as limp as a noodle.

I'm the night getting progressively drunker and sloppier after 1 am passes

Gentry’s was Near North, not on Halsted.

There were two. 3320 N Halsted and 440 N State

I'm the positive glow of affirmation some of these guys get when they get up on stage and belt it out to applause afterwards. They haven't felt this alive since high school drama club.

What sad lives r53

Not really any sadder than any other bar, really.

I'm the drunk on the barstool behind you, who is correctly the lyrics in real time under his breath.

This thread makes me want to re-watch Edge Of 17.

Awwww - I love a good piano bar as a welcome change. For about an hour or two. Then the feeling of being in God's Waiting Room sits in all too quickly and inevitably.

The energy is always short of a valium. Like having a cocktail with your parents.

I'm the sense of camaraderie of being around faces you know.

I'm Liza with my pal Billy, pretending that i thought we wouldn't be noticed if I wore these dark sunglasses indoors. Oh well, HI FELLAS! You want ME to sing something? Oh, I couldn't possibly... oh well, HIT IT, Billy!

Oh how I miss the Gentry - both locations

First place I saw Alexandra Billings

That girl could SING

Gentry's on Halstead is now (straight) Town Hall, isn't it, R61?

And you are right I miss the original Gentry's on Rush.

I'm the former owner of a NYC piano bar who played the same songs in the same order and never accepted credit cards. I lost my bar.

I'm the hurricane-style glass where you can tip Paul the piano player.

I replaced a giant brandy snifter that was knocked to the floor and smashed during a particularly vigorous and drunken rendition of "Mein Herr."

“Gay Piano Bar?” As opposed to a straight piano bar, OP?

I’m Mark. I hang out at Brandy’s and hook up with the Broadway studs that occasionally wander in.

I'm the framed show posters from another era.

I'm the inevitable person who chose the really difficult song that no one can either sing nor play on the piano, like "Cinderella Darling" from "How to Succeed."

I’m the Chardonnay.

I'm bleu cheese-stuffed olives, the "decadent" part of the martini special.

If you're in Mykonos this summer check out Montparnasse, Kathy "Babe" Robinson is there every summer and it's great fun.

I’m the older straight female performer with a nice voice that has somehow managed to stick around. I’ve got an unimpressive resume with tons of never quite made it experiences. I’ll be sure to let you know I’m the real thing though by including any initial credentials that I can after my name! I’ll also regale the audience with stories of all the famous people I’m came oh so close to but never just made it.

I’m Chrissy Metz. I come in to the bar to eat all their peanuts and popcorn. I also knock back a few drinks and then belt out some songs.

I’m the Murphy Brown episode where Jim buys a bar and it’s not until the rousing singing around the piano that he realizes its a gay bar.

I'm the shy awkward young man at the bar who's there for a second time. Still nervous and unsure but finding that this place might help me find myself. Looking around (discreetly), I'm wishing that Josh, my straight friend, could be here with me.

I’m the ultra-straight Jimmy Fallon who wandered in Marie’s Crisis, and just completely took over the small but festive little piano bar.

Because I’m hip that way.

I'm the 58 year old wearing Abercrombie & Fitch, walking in with his twink boyfriend.

I'm the stale cigarettes and half-empty martinis by the end of the night.

[quote] I’m the older straight female performer with a nice voice that has somehow managed to stick around.

LOL. Every gay piano bar has one of these broads.

I'm the thin-lipped smile on Paul the piano player's face when someone drops a $10 in the jar and requests "Ring Them Bells."

lol R80

I'm the hustler bar that has an old lady playing the piano. She's been on the bench since the mid-1950s. People mistake us for a piano bar, but we do serious business at this bar and if we let any of those screaming queens in to wail their shitty Broadway torch songs, it will drive the customers away.

Gentry in Halsted was the first gay bar I ever went to. I played a lot of gigs accompanying singers in the mid-‘90s and often hung out at the Tuesday open mic. All of this thread is true, and it was a wonderful time in my life. Now I haven’t been to one in years.

I’m the baritone who belts “If Ever I Would Leave You” and believes, for just one moment, I’m Bob Goulet playing the big room at the Sands.

(And I’m hopelessly confused by this modern age of Broadway theater where they all have to wear microphones.)

I'm Raffles, THE gay piano bar in Philadelphia during the Eighties. People used to go there after having dinner at The Venture Inn a few doors down. (Because it catered to , shall we say, mature gentlemen, it became known as The Denture Inn.)

I'm the quick exit a hen party makes after the dozens of stank eye looks we all get when we make our entrance with collective high pitched "woo's". We'll all be posting our bad reviews on Yelp the next day while still drunk, complaining how misogynistic the clientele is for not welcoming us with open arms and not making room for us at the piano.

I'm the fat girl who always insists on singing "Carousel" from Jacques Brel at open mic at Wavery/Waverly. RIP, Waverly/Waverly and my friend Gary who took me there after we saw Jerry's Girls. Said fat lady was singing, cute waiter came by to take our order, saw the Playbill, looked at the stage, turned back and said, "Oh, Chita...REAL talent." (Note: that evening Chita broke her leg in a car accident and the show closed soon thereafter.)

Sigh. The happy days before the deluge.

I'm Paul the piano player giving in and FINALLY learning how to play "Shallow" after endless requests from the elderly clientele who discovered they liked Lady Gaga.

I'm the sixth verse of "June is Bustin' Out All Over" that has not been heard in a piano bar since about1985.

I went to Townhouse on Friday & couldn't stop laughing because this thread described it in ornate detail.

R90 I go to the Monster in the West Village and usually have fun until the frau's come in. Unfortunately, with world pride coming up in June, I'll have to go to the Townhouse to get my piano bar fix that weekend, that is if I stay in town.

I am the mega-eldergay couple that makes everyone's eyes roll when we get up to perform, yet again, "Bosom Buddies."

One day I don't come in any more.

I’m music written this century. Don’t expect to hear me.

I'm Robert from Grace & Frankie.

I’m the piano tuner who isn’t gay but isn’t willing to risk my livelihood to say anything that might cost me work. My kids have student loans to pay off.

That's a very sweet pic r92

R96 For us young show queens, hearing their stories of seeing Mary Martin and Ethel Merman on stage as well as the variety of Dolly's and Mame's they've seen over the years, is fascinating and nostalgic. When I'm their age, I'll be able to tell stories of seeing revivals of these shows, as well as all those Disney movies and chick flick romantic comedies that came to Broadway with songs attached. For some reason, the same thrill isn't there.

R97, you should have seen Ann Miller as Dolly Levi. When she ripped off her skirt and tap danced during So Long Dearie, she brought down the house.

Anyone remember Regents East? Divine used to go there.

Was there ever a West?

I’m the back patio at Michael’s Outpost in Houston, full of cockroaches and mosquitos.

R71, Kathy Babe Robinson is still there? I first saw her in 1999 I think.

i'm Rose's Turn on 10th Ave. in the 40s and I'm now a boring hardware store.

[quote]I’m music written this century. Don’t expect to hear me.

Thank fucking God.

I'm the grumpy old queen who stopped going to piano bars because of all the Millennials who can't be bothered to learn the lyrics and read them off their phones instead.

In MY day, we stayed home after school and learned those lyrics the hard way, by listening endlessly to OCRs on vinyl.

R104 I think you just described me. If I don't know ALL the lyrics by heart, I don't sing along.

Is "The New Jamie's" still there on Clark Street? We made many friends there! (We recall the fights, the knifings, and Miss Blue being called)

Anyone remember The Little Shrimp in Laguna Beach?

I'm the gay anthem of the early 1990's. Men used to stand up and sing along when Rick used to play my sad notes at the Townhouse ...but not anymore.

Ah, Napoleon's, Boston, 1980s, the last time I was ever the youngest person in the room...

I'm the whispers of concern whenever it's mentioned that Liza Minnelli is probably still drinking and doing drugs.

I’m the ambulance called after an eldergay collapses after having one too many martinis on his 83rd birthday.

[quote]Anyone remember The Little Shrimp in Laguna Beach?

Triggered.

[quote]When she ripped off her skirt and tap danced during So Long Dearie, she brought down the house.

Especially on the night she forgot to wear anything underneath.

I'm the fat faghag singing "Maybe This Time" for the 11,000th time. This is when everybody goes for a bathroom break or outside for a cig.

I’m the guy who walks out to grab a smoke after hearing the first bar of “Suddenly Seymour”

But I would dash back in a flash for “West Side Story”.

R114 😂

I’m jazz hands

R102 “i'm Rose's Turn on 10th Ave. in the 40s and I'm now a boring hardware store.”

The Rose’s Turn I knew was in the Village on Grove Street, next to Marie’s Crisis. I’m trying to picture where it would have been on 10th Ave. in the 40’s... Were there two of them?

I’m an eldergay DLer whose only claim to fame was being in this performance of the movie. I tell everybody to expect a wonderful surprise— and I just happen to have my original gold lamé top hat with me from the film when I’m suddenly asked to sing a one-man piano version! “What? Little old me? Sing?? Oh I don’t know! It’s been so long!”

No one knows I have been secretly paying to prepare and rehearse for this “spontaneous” moment with the piano player for weeks!

Everything is going phenomenally, but I get carried away in the moment and decide show ‘em I still got pizazz by climbing up onto the piano and doing the sensational kicks as a grand finale to my number. Unfortunately I fall off and they have to call paramedics. No one told me to “break a leg”, but I actually did. 🤷🏻‍♂️

I love you, r119.

Here’s the piano accompaniment from R119. It was a thrilling night!

I'm the oversized turquoise ring adoring the puggy finger of the formally beautiful chorus boy Andrew.

Puggy finger, r122. No turquoise.

r118 - no it wasn't called Rose's Turn - I don't remember the name and as I was typing my post I was cringing because I knew that wasn't the right name. The bar didn't last a year as I recall. It was run by an older woman. I once saw an acquaintance from the neighborhood I fancied sing a version of that song "What would think at this moment"

I'm Blanche Devereaux, making a second appearance. I'm here at the Rusty Anchor, thinking it's a straight bar with all-men patrons.

I'm Dorothy, stealing Blanche's thunder at the Rusty Anchor (Hard Hearted Hannah).

I’m the chubby queen that gets down in the depths and channels Ms Lisa Stansfield with a sultry performance!

I’m the Designing Women fan that gets a little too tipsy and brings “Sweet Georgia Brown” to life thanks to having memorized this performance by Dixie Carter RIP

Was Blanche performing in a homosexual bar?

I'm the organic, locavore Polish-Peruvian-Japanese fusion restaurant that took over after your clientele all retired to Wilton Manors.

I'm the worn out carpet leading up the three steps to the windowless room where the piano bar exists.

I'm the narcissistic, out of control lesbian party girl co-owner who ran off all the talented staff, then drank up the remaining profits, forcing closure of the establishment.

could the tired Golden Girls/Rue McClanahan fans please restrain themselves? it was 30 years ago for chrissakes

I'm tonight's special guest, Liberace !

This thread is so true, love it!

[quote]could the tired Golden Girls/Rue McClanahan fans please restrain themselves? it was 30 years ago for chrissakes

Yeah, cause piano bars are so...today!

I'm the sloppiness after last call.

I'm Lauren Bacall, coming in after a performance of APPLAUSE and hearing the crowd scream "She's here ! Oh God, I can't believe it! She's here ! It's just too groovy to believe !!"

I'm the toxic cloud of Calvin Klein scents intermingling.

I’m the well worn ‘Broadway Fake Book’

R99, Regent East was my favorite NYC bar, back in the day. Nothing else had Regent East's perfect balance of fun and sophistication.

Bad management killed it. And it was a sad day when it bit the dust.

Oooops. Sorry.

No, there was no Regent West.

I'm the truck driver.

I'm the internet, which closed the bar forever.

I'm the guy in the bathroom gargling with salt water.

I’m sweet Caroline

R144, not in all places, the younger the More likely they hang at the piano bar in my town

R109 "When I was 17, it was a very good year" because I never got carded at Boston's Napoleon Club, aka "The Wrinkle Room." And I beat you in there by about a decade. This was the early 70's, I was in high school, and the place had a lot of history. And a lot of the regulars then were part of that history since the place opened in the 1930's. Marie, the pianist, was a showgirl in her far-off youth and I had a summer job working for Blue Cross/Blue Shield. I'd grown up with a lot of 78's and my parent's Broadway albums, so I knew most of the songs and had a decent voice and Marie wanted me to sit on the bench with her and turn the pages. It wasn't my youthful tenor that drew her to me: she had an ulterior motive. BC/BS was the Medicare intermediary then for Massachusetts and I ended up completing and submitting all of her claims for her.

You're right about the age gap: everyone there was about three times my age so I never paid for a drink and gracefully, I think, declined most of the offers I received.

Indeed, when I was 21, older and more established gentlemen frequently were generous with the cocktails.

I'm the portly, bearded guy in his 50s who denies being a showtune queen but who knows the lyrics to every single fucking song that's played and will sing along, loudly, off-key and with his fog horn of a voice, so that no one else around can even hear what's going on.

I’m the rupaul drag race queens crashing and singing out every tune

I'm the strenuous last hours at work with that last minute cup of coffee where the person drinking me is fantasizing about the cocktail he'll have in just a few more hours while singing something from "Cabaret".

Our life charged from Hell to heaven when we once and for all said goodbye to Miss Boozette!

I'm one of two patrons checking Datalounge on their cellphone during a particularly snooze-y performance.

I'm weeping quietly in the corner of the room because Doris died.

I'm the piano.

Im the fag hag who comes in every Thursday for the two-4-one and is beloved by her gay male friends

R109: I'm in the corner of the main bar at Napolean's, sipping my Poland Springs water and looking precious in my jeans, sweater and button down shirt peeking out.

Amazing how on certain night, I would walk in and know immediately, "I'm gonna score"! and on others...not so much.

R155 While he's weeping, everybody else is laughing with the guy doing the Tim Conway Mr Tudball impression, but nobody can do Mrs. Ha-Wiggins correctly.

R154 I'm either checking out Datalounge or Young and the Restless/General Hospital recaps, hoping that either Dina or Monica were on because they are more fascinating than the hundredth off key rendition of "What I did for Love".

Hundredth. Only? You have been hanging in some small time piano bars.

I'm the female black piano player playing "Roly Poly" in "Pillow Talk", giving Rock the eye because he's leaving Doris on while eying a guy at the bar. (That's why he screwed up the end.)

Yah! Yah!

Doris and Rock = sizemologist sisters!