Art BarCheers to simplicity! Despite having the word ‘art’ in its name, this place is anything but pretentious and/or snooty. No, it’s a proper lounge/bar that can stand the test of time–which, in this case, is about ninety minutes and four beers. It helped that we came early and got a seat at the bar with the friendly bartender, cornered all The Smiths and Elvis Costello on the jukebox. It’s always so much more pleasant drinking beers to your own music choices (albeit somebody else’s collection). After a couple beers up front, we retired to the back room, which has several old chairs and couches and tables at which to chill and, not surprisingly, some weird art on the fifteen foot walls. The crowd was decidedly remarkable in its rank normalcy. Not a single douchebag in a trucker hat. Not a single self-serving blowhard NYU social work student in site. I mean I was the only idiot in the place even air-drumming to “Wave of Mutilation.” There weren’t sparks flying off the walls or anything, but the place was comfortable and inviting and the beer was cold and I’d go back in a heartbeat. [MF]

52 8th Ave. (bet. Jane & Horatio St.)