The Ale House
680 River St., Troy; 272-9740

Look, there are neighborhood joints and neighborhood joints. In some of those places, you feel like you’ve burst in on a bund meeting or something—silent stares and cold shoulders. But the Ale House is a real neighborly neighborhood joint. It’s warm and roomy, the folks are friendly, the music’s top-notch, and—oh, man—the chicken wings. So, you can get a dozen hot, catch a local act like the Coal Palace Kings or a national like the Silos, make some new friends, and quaff your fill of the titular bevvy (and lagers and stouts and pilsners and porters and all things relaxing and frothy). And to our way of thinking, that ain’t a house, that’s a home.

—John Rodat

Crazy Crab
50 S. Delaware Ave. (at the Van Schaick Island Marina), Cohoes; 235-4846

What’s not to love about a venue that’s inside a giant, converted oil drum?

Well, aside from the fact that cavernous, round spaces don’t always lend themselves to pleasing harmonics and flawless sound. But we hear that Crazy Crab, a local tavern that is actually housed in a former industrial tank on the Hudson River, has found a remedy for the potentially unforgiving bouncing-around-the-room effect by installing a drop ceiling at its Van Schaick Island Marina home-sweet-oil-drum.

You have to really want to find the Crazy Crab in order to get there. It’s located way down at the end of a gravelly road that winds its way through an industrial park (as you’re coming and going, keep an eye out as you are likely to encounter the odd tractor-trailer barreling down the dusty road). And since it looks just like every other cylindrical tank on the river from every angle but the front, you may not even notice it until it’s looming in your face. But once you’re there, there’s no mistaking it: Crazy Crab is the only drum in the industrial park and marina that has windows, a huge deck overlooking the river and boat slips for patrons to pull up to.

“It’s on the waterfront, which is great,” says Dave DeMott, bass player for local band Arc. “And it’s cool because you drive down this dead-end road, and you’re like, ‘What could be down here?’ And then, you get there, and it’s like a jewel on the Hudson. It’s pretty interesting. All the walls are like painted blue and sea-like. And outside there’s this gigantic crab that looks totally stoned, with these big, stoned eyes.”

The place charms all manner of local musicians—acts who’ve graced the place include Blue Hand Luke, Coal Palace Kings, the Girl, Arc and Mark Emanatian—who seem to enjoy the big, round room, the proximity to the river and the unique atmosphere. The best way to describe it, one regular tells us, is to mix “one part Cocktail, two parts ’70s Charles Bronson action flick, some Gilligan’s Island to taste, and shake well.”

—Erin Sullivan

The Eldorado
121 4th St., Troy; 274-9326

It’s Spanish for “the gilded one,” if you’re at all curious, but if you’re thinking Francisco de Orellana or Walter Raleigh, you’re off the mark a bit. Downtown Troy’s Eldorado—with its comfortingly dark and narrow barroom, its battered brass fixtures and its ceiling fans—feels less like a trip down the Amazon than a fancy night out on the town in Dodge, circa 1840. The reference to gold is less the glittering-city-of-fable type than the grizzled-prospector-gets-lucky type. And I’m sure grizzled prospectors the region round can dig that. Add to that the tony good-time saloon vibe of the Wednesday open mike, Soundproof, hosted by Super 400 and frequented by some of your favorite local-music heroes, and you’ve got a venue worth it’s weight in, well, something really valuable.

—J.R.

The Garden Grill
276 Second Ave., Albany; 462-0571

We’ve heard it time and time again: Albany’s music audiences just aren’t enthusiastic. The stage can by filled by the rockingest, ass-kickingest band—spinning themselves into a ball of spit and sweat—and the crowd will look as though they’re studying a police lineup. Offer up a toe-tap, please. Well, the Garden Grill is just the kind of place bands want to play. It’s a place with a healthy stock of regulars who stick around when the notes start to fly. Not only that: They cheer; they sing along; they dance; they buy CDs; they cheer. The Garden Grill is a comfy place: Think Palais Royale, only dimmer. You can see the stage from every seat of the long bar (which lines the wall opposite the front door). And there’s a nook at the end of the room, directly in front of the stage, that’s a comfy place to listen to the tunes. But while sitting still and modest is an option, this is a place to cheer, sing along and dance. Try it—you might like it.

—Kate Sipher

Hotel Austin
South Main Street, Central Bridge; 868-2009

We have our own private Briga-doon located to the west of Albany—a fabled place, tales of which are rich and plentiful. This place is Central Bridge’s Hotel Austin, a spot of music and revelry that begs people to speak of it . . . and some to sing of it: Knotworking’s Edward Gorch was moved to write “Central Bridge,” a song based within the homey pub/hotel.

Visually, the Hotel Austin is in transition, and the newish ownership is evident in the homegrown carpentry of the stage and confines. The sound upgrades are said to create some of the best acoustics this side of Cobleskill. The bands that venture to gig at the Hotel Austin return to Albany with accounts of music-loving audiences—folks who venture to shake their booty when the melody moves them. “They’re totally appreciative,” Gorch says about the club’s crowd. “We played mostly originals, and people were listening, people were asking about the songs.”

But what about the Hotel Austin moves one to create a work of art? Gorch says he was driving around Greene County the day after he played the venue. “In Greene County, there’s a lot of bars that look like the Hotel Austin. So I would drive by and think about it,” he recounts. A melody and some words came to him, and by the end of the day, he had a song. “It was what was on my mind as a result of the previous night,” he says.

The song tells the tale of a fictional couple who could have been sitting in the bar that evening. Perhaps acting on a loose invitation to meet up for the evening, they awkwardly inhabit the room together but never really connect.

“It’s about him looking around, waiting, and kind of wanting to talk to her—at one point, he could settle for sitting there all night and watching her with her friends,” Gorch says. “He would be happy just doing that. Eventually, when he gets up the courage to talk with her, she’s gone.”

Maybe you could be so moved at the Hotel Austin. Or, at least you could feel free to dance far away from Albany’s stiff audiences. And, those in charge of the place are putting out a CD of songs recorded there—if you’re just too wary to take the drive. But, we suggest you do. You just might stay long enough to meet someone new.

—K.S.