This Lincoln Park
5 a.m. is the Rolling Stone magazine of the club circuit, where Billy Idol, Aerosmith and the Sex Pistols live forever as the three pillars of what it means to be a rock star, complete with silver-emblazoned "Rebel Yell" and "Walk This Way" lyrics on black, cave-shaped walls (leftover from the old Katacomb).
Despite its zip code, it's actually a cheap night – $2 PBRs and Old Style, $5 Jager shots – save for the $10 cover charge on the weekends. And it certainly won’t be flooded with trixies and popped collars, even if the staff's iPod sticks too close to the Guitar Hero series from time to time.
Saturdays have actually started to champion all things grunge, where like every night, the rock-centric Wrigleyville set come in after-party throngs, order liquor from hollowed-out amps and kick it Q101-boom nostalgic about black-leather lounge chairs and tom-tom drums outfitted as tables.
Centerstage Reviewer: Gavin Paul