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Thank God, It's . . . Monday?
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"The crowds just aren't what they used to be," explains Chris Hall, son of Chick, shoulders hunched over a faux-wood tabletop.
So, the nondescript concrete building, the "Beer to Go 7 Days a Week" banner, the man who loves chicken wings and the blues -- well, who knows what will become of them.
Right now, though, they've got a story and a song:
"Yeah, I used to think you were beautiful . . . but I don't see how it's gonna last."
Liquid Funk at Modern
M Street NW is pretty quiet as the clock inches toward midnight on a Sunday evening.
Except on that block toward the end in Georgetown, where a dozen 20-somethings are pouring down a dark staircase that's vibrating with a thumping, persistent electronic rhythm.
"We play so much hip-hop here, it's good to do something different," the club's manager, Rebecca Brumberg, is shouting over a remixed version of Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up."
Sunday nights are a risk, Brumberg admits. For Modern, or any D.C. nightspot. Washington can be an early-to-bed, early-to-rise kind of town, so there was no guarantee anyone would show up when they started keeping the doors open on Sundays a couple of months ago.
And there's still no guarantee. Sometimes a hundred people or more pack the dance floor of the underground club. Sometimes just a couple of dozen customers wander in and out, sipping $5 watermelon martinis or having a quick beer in a booth at the back.
Usually folks come in two waves, Brumberg says. One set flows in about 9, when the doors open, just trying to extend their weekend a little longer. Later, after midnight, bartenders and bouncers from other clubs will swing by for downtime of their own.
"There's also a lot of people who've never experienced this music before," says Jason Riccardelli (a.k.a. DJ Jaybird), who persuaded Modern's managers to throw the Sunday night party, called Liquid Funk, after noticing a dearth of the type of drum'n'bass music he plays. "It's got a little bit of soul, a little bit of reggae, a little bit of hip-hop."
Whatever it's got, it's enough to keep slumber at bay for at least those few wandering the sidewalks of Georgetown as Monday draws near.
