John Anderson
Yes, it's crowded, and yes, the line at the bar is often longer than the ones to (or in) the bathrooms, but dammit, man, this shit is off the fucking hook, yo. Seriously: Where else can you shuffle your indie/hipster Chucks to the cacophonous clamor of My Education or Many Birthdays on the back porch before heading inside to bust a glute on the dance floor to DJ Mel, Car Stereo (Wars), or Santigold? Nowhere else. (Added bonus: The front porch is the key scene to be seen doing bad things late at night, à la Warhol, et al.)
