I spent the weekend in Eugene, Oregon visiting family. I grew up there until age eight or nine, then my family moved to the Seattle suburbs. Years ago, they moved back, and I stuck around, went to school in Olympia, and moved back to Seattle proper. What this means is that when I visit Eugene, the only people I usually know are my family. The last time I had friends my own age there was in 3rd grade (Spring Creek Elementary gifted program, holler at me), so I normally don’t really have anyone my own age to take me out. Luckily, this time around, my buddy and all-around good-time guy, Jason, was in town visiting some friends of his, so I was able to tag along with them on a bar-crawling Saturday night survey of Eugene nightlife. My findings:

The Whittaker neighborhood block party looked pretty fun, but I didn’t get there until nearly 10pm, and they weren’t letting any more revelers in to dance to the ’80s-inflected house or mill around the Armadillo-shaped, art-car RV and drink the local IPA. Down the street at the homey Sam Bond’s Garage, a band was playing (I never caught their name, but they were opening for someone called Dan Jones & the Squids). Their singer/guitarist has kind of a fluffy-haired, Party of Five thing going on, and he plays melodic pop rock to match. The rhythm section, on the other hand look like they should be a grindcore band—the bassist had the lanky, sunken-eyed look of a independent video store clerk, and their drummer sported a sleeveless Wolf Eyes t-shirt and a Cthulu-esque cephalopod tattoo. That drummer pounded the shit out his kit on mellow love songs that totally didn’t demand it at all, and he was grinning and grimacing the whole time. He’s awesome, and when he starts that grindcore (or thrash or noise) band, they may be worth watching.

Across the street, the Tiny Tavern boasted the night’s best mix of toothless regulars and punky young people (and Eugene has kind of a lock on that mix). An acoustic punk (or “indie roots” or “alt americana,” I don’t know) duo was doing covers and originals. They played “Heart of Glass.” They played harmonica. A cool old woman with an oversized t-shirt of the evil queen from Snow White (very M.I.A.) grabbed my buddies’ butts and told us, “I used to be bitching, too.” She is, in fact, still totally bitching.

Walking to downtown, we passed the W.O.W. hall, Eugene’s former-communist union hall turned all-ages venue, where a local show/benefit for a local Alzheimers association was taking place. Headliner Unkle Nancy hits an intersection of folk and hip hop a little like Why?, only a little less Berkeley intellectual and more rural Oregon. We skipped the show, though, to hit more bars.

We’d gotten a flyer for an “electro dance party” at a club called Snafu (free with costume!), but when we got there, we could see that the place was empty from outside. In fact, we could see the whole place from the outside—Snafu might be the world’s smallest gay bar (the door person estimated it was 700 square feet, including kitchen and bathrooms). They were playing euro-disco. We took off, with the intent to come back later and see if it picked up (but we got drunk and never made it back).

We went to some non-descript bar downtown where the DJ was dropping late ’80s/early ’90s hip hop to a somewhat full bar with a totally empty dance floor. The doorman had full facial tattoos and a Famous Stars & Stripes t-shirt.

Across the street from this bar was a place called Jameson’s, which one of my companions described as “Eugene’s hipster bar.” Okay. I heard some Chromeo on the sound system. Some girls in roller skates rolled through the bar. Seattle bass & drums thrashers the Last Slice of Butter have a friend at Jameson’s, and his name is Chad. Chad and I peed together (it was one of those bathrooms with both a urinal and a toilet but meant for one), and, upon learning I was from Seattle, he demanded check them out. They play the OFH Teen Center this Friday with Talbot Tagora and Little Party & the Bad Business. Chad’s own band, Blast Majesty, will open for the Last Slice of Butter when they play Eugene on their upcoming “Gnarlytimes West Coast Tour.”