The Rainbow Bar

I'm not gay, and the Rainbow Bar isn't a gay bar, even though it's located in West Hollywood. The Rainbow Bar is the most important and identifiable bar, post-concert hang out, and Rock 'n' Roll demolition derby in the history of hard rock. Every major rock band from the 70's and 80's who hit Los Angeles has stumbled and groped their way through the Rainbow, from Led Zeppelin's infamous drunken orgies to Lemmy playing a tabletop Ms. Pacman in the corner of the bar.

What Hard Rock Cafe lacks in authenticity, The Rainbow exudes in gravitas. Even so, it has lost much of its lustre since opening in 1973, now attracting aging rockers who are still clinging onto a faint dream of hitting it big as a Hair Band, even though most of it is gone toward the back of the skull. It's a place where old groupies go to relive their hazy dazys of debauchery, and maybe give an aging rocker a blowjob in the upstairs hallway. To put it short, it looks like a Spinal Tap convention.

It's a place like an aging headbanger like me can remember what it was like back in high school, with dreams of my own. One day, being the next Dimebag Darrell, not realizing I didn't have a shred of talent. And now poor Dimebag's dead.



Don't skip over that so quickly to get to the food review. Abbott Darrell was one of the greatest metal -or any genre- guitar players ever to pick up an instrument. He just had the honor of shoving it up your ass and lighting it on fire. He was gunned down onstage at a Damageplan concert, with his brother and drummer, Vinnie Abbott, witnessing the horrible tragedy.

As a great aside: Some months before his murder, Darrell had found out from one of his industry contacts that Eddie Van Halen and Charvel guitars were going to produce a limited-edition series of guitars bearing Van Halen's trademark tape-striping. Van Halen himself would be individually taping each guitar and they would also come with a picture of him doing so and a certificate of authenticity. According to Eddie, Darrell called him on the phone and asked if he could purchase one before they became available. Eddie replied that the next time he saw Darrell, he would have one of the guitars with him and would stripe it in Darrell's presence as a gift. Before they could meet again, Darrell was murdered. Eddie recounted this story when he spoke at Darrell's funeral, then, to the surprise of those in attendance, he brought out the black and yellow tape-striped guitar seen on the back cover of Van Halen II (which Darrell had said was his favorite guitar of Eddie's) and laid it in Darrell's casket to be buried with him. [this paragraph plagurized from wikipedia.org]



Yes, I was a metalhead, so the Rainbow Bar means a lot to me, and its history.

But, admittedly, nowadays, it's kind of a laughable scene. People who used to exemplify cool on the Sunset Strip -getting tanked before a Van Halen concert or getting laid in the bathroom after a Motley Crue show- now look way out of place in our Hip Hop dominated time and city.

My interest in Metal waned once I got into college, as this white guitar player started listening to a band his black hallmate turned me on to called Niggaz With Attitudes. Not only were all my metal friends baffled at this noise I was listening to, but I predicted they would eventually merge. Thank you Anthrax.



This isn't Anthrax



But this is NWA, when Cube went through 9 bottles of activator a day. In this picture, it looks like Ren stole his supply.

So the Rainbow only serves to relive a time before that, when I really didn't have a care in the world, and thought music and video games were all life was about. Funny enough, 80 million kids have now adopted that same philosophy. It's nice to be a trendsetter.

So why go there? Well, first of all, its fun. It's a blast, even if you're not posing. Especially when you spill out of the Roxy, which is an icon all its own, the place where Sargeant Stedenko got stoned while Cheech and Chong won the battle of the bands inside. Good times.



Secondly, since they also cater to a moderate tourist crowd, they charge you $10 cover, but you get two tickets, each good for a drink or $5 towards food. Not a bad deal. Of course, they hope you get drunk and forget to use them, but I've gone back at later dates and they only use two colors, so you can easily use them in the future.

Last, and most obvious, since this is a food site, is the food. Bet you were wondering when I'd get to that. The food is better than you'd expect from an institution on the verge of selling franchise licenses, because they've already opened up a new branch in Las Vegas. The scene is entirely different.


See, that's the Rainbow Bar in Vegas. Quite a difference.

The food is straight up American food, well executed and in large portions. Let's face it, you don't go to the Rainbow Bar, you end up at the Rainbow, so chances are you're gonna have big-time munchies. Nevertheless, I've been there drunk and sober, and the food is good. Couple that with the atmosphere, its a great place to either wind down the evening, or get into some serious trouble fueling a two-fisted bender as you're about to drive that SUV down Sunset Strip. The good news is, there's a high probability you'll get to share the drunk tank with Paris Hilton.



Even though I don't have the pictures to prove it, their escargot (yeah, escargot) is well made, with garlic butter spiked heavily with garlic. Sop it up with a side of bread and you've bought yourself a one way ticket to Palpatationsville on the Drunk Express.


Again, Vegas.

The pizzas are amazing. No, they're not as good as Grotto or Ledo on the East coast, but they are strong contendors. Seriously heavy, laden with cheese and sauce, and a crust to support a heap of toppings. A party of four still has to try to give away the last piece, because everyone is stuffed at the end of the night.

While you're eating, take a look around you. Ok, so it looks like a Hard Rock with all the rock pictures, autographed headshots, gold albums and iconic posters hanging on the wall. But, at least here you know a guitar god or inveterate drunken lead singer puked on a table somewhere. The crowd compliments the surroundings, not looking nearly as incongruous as a family of hawaiian shirt wearing tourists eating baby back ribs next to Kerry King's autographed BC Rich axe at Hard Rock, Key West.



The burgers will make you sweat. Huge and lovingly piled with bacon, cheese, tomato, lettuce, onion, tuning pegs, sweaty bra and patch cable, the burger is satisfying and hard to finish. The food is hard to finish because you'll usually load up on appetizers. My favorite, besides the escargot, are the fried cheese balls (next stop, The Village of Defribulation) with a side of marinara for dumping.



Beers, beers and more beers. Decent well drinks. Loose, drunk women with big, partially sagging racks. What more could a guy want? Well, he would want a bathroom on the first floor, but that's not going to happen. Inevitably, when you have to stagger to the bathroom, you'll be doing it up a flight of stairs, which can make for some exciting incidental contact with a girl's spandex. A girl, as far as you can tell from behind.

So, sure, the Rainbow is a little worn like a groupie with 25 years of wear and tear between her thighs, and a methadone habit she's been trying to kick for the 19th time, but it still remains an icon. No longer the hub of Sunset Strip's vibrant 70's scene or 80's metal resurgence, it still appeals to rock fans old and new, even those of us who now think our faded idols like Iron Maiden or Richie Blackmore sound a little silly, look a little funny, and actually came up with those lyrics as grown adults.



It also revives respect for them as musicians, no longer shrouded in swirling controversy of whatever album they happened to desecrate an icon, or slander an ideal. They were just talented people like you and me, who struck the right combination of aggression, rebellion, virtuosity, immaturity, alcoholism and drug addiction. There were gods in those days.