The Phoenix
Editorial
The Phoenix first rose from the dying embers of Canberra nightlife back when puss was still a kitten. Which is to say, around about fifteen years ago. The curious thing is, despite the bar's age, the patrons' age has remained more-or-less static. They're all only a bit older than puss.
If you are over thirty, you will certainly not be pelted with refuse and poured with scorn and the signature drink, Guinness. But, you just might look like Methuselah amid this fresh-faced university crowd.
The Phoenix is the natural breeding ground for the Canberra hipster. Girls in vintage dresses and boys with their hair pushed forward, although not in a Justin Bieber way, congregate here to talk about Outsider Music and the pain of being young hipsters. A pain that can only be diminished by the power of a quality hang. The Phoenix is it.
Styled somewhat vaguely on an Irish theme, this pub has a heart that beats in time with iPod playlists. Music is this bird's sine qua non. It flies into gigs every so often and is generally playing tunes from the highest altitudes of indie.
True fact: my friend Eleanor once met Nick Cave there after a gig at the ANU Refectory. She made him call her answering machine and is yet to erase the message. “I'm at the Phoenix,” it said. If you're a Canberra hipster, you should be there, too.
SM King, April 2010
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alex
September 17, 2010
the phoenix is great but it _really_ smells of wee.
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