If you haven’t heard the lore, the story behind Pancakes & Whiskey is one of anger, drunk munchies, and the urge to do something different. And yeah, the late-night snack that became the name 3 years ago was as real as the syrupy plate and New York-style hangover it left behind the next day.
It was a true “fuck it” moment, borne out of dissatisfaction with a mercenary industry, frustration at the lack of an outlet, and probably some dumb thing someone said that night (the whiskey took care of the last part). But the first two gripes were ones that couldn’t be slept off, and their solution soon took shape as a new outlet altogether. Thus, Pancakes & Whiskey was no longer just a tasty 4am combo, but a grassroots publication with a passionate team, quickly carving out a small space in the scene to become the simple thing we needed – a place where contributors and readers could both just enjoy the hell out of some local music and booze. And that’s a few years of work that’s worth celebrating.
With such a wild ride behind us, it made perfect sense to spend our third birthday with some badass local bands, and of course, enjoy some of the finest beer from our tasty sponsors at Sixpoint Brewery. The party went down at Rough Trade on Friday, and we were honored to celebrate our existence with The Teen Age, Sharkmuffin, The Skins, and that weird, hip reader base we sometimes get to see in person (you’re all very well-dressed, by the way!).
Thanks to the beachy, strummy sound of The Teenage, the self-described “doo wop garage” band that got the party started, the crowd was dancing and moving just after doors. Sharkmuffin were quick to join in the fun and the grunge, treating us to some free-spirited punk in our two favorite flavors: fast and loud. With some unforgettable moments (like the way they nonchalantly announced “That song was called ‘Tampons Are For Sluts’”), the night was off to a great start.
In the birthday party scenario, The Skins were clearly the cool older siblings that show up after the cake is cut with a bunch of rowdy friends. The much-loved Brooklyn rockers, three of whom are in fact siblings, brought style, substance, and some aggressively-dancing fans to the show; their sassy, catchy riffs punctuated by wild hair-flips and synchronized sways. “Right, so it’s breakfast time, you’ve got your Pancakes and Whiskey…” they sang, swapping out lyrics for us as we swooned by the bar.
There was no better way to celebrate, and we love you all to death for coming out. Here’s to many more shitty breakfast choices and all the beautiful things that can come from them.
Article: Olivia Isenhart
Photos: Shayne Hanley