Jukeboxing 331 Club

Where they haven't been replaced by charmless, trend-crunching tune-bots, jukeboxes can say a lot about a place, not to mention make it more fun. In Jukeboxing, Decider spends some quarters and punches some buttons at Twin Cities bars and venues. This edition takes a look at the 331 Club.

The box: A Rowe AMI jukebox with CDs by Charlie Daniels Band, Barry White, David Bowie, and many others. It’s a fine jukebox, really, and lends the place a--oh, did we mention it’s in the ladies’ room? And that it only plays in the ladies’ room? The bartender on duty generously let Decider in, so this correspondent could prove once and for all that ladies’ rooms are far nicer than men’s rooms.

Price: 3 plays for $1, 7 plays for $2, 10 plays for $5.

Drinkin’ songs: First, ask yourself: why are you drinking in the ladies’ room? Then, try “Give My Love To Rose” from The Legend Of Johnny Cash or sing along to “The Thrill Is Gone” from The Best Of Chet Baker Sings. Then, let someone else in, for Pete’s sake.

Nerd jams: It’s just you and the jukebox, so don’t worry about embarrassing choices. Pleasures don’t get more guilty than Meat Loaf’s Bat Out Of Hell or Billy Joel’s Greatest Hits Vol. I & II. But something tells us you like to pee to something straight-up nerdy, so fire up any song Kraftwerk’s Radio-Activity.

Mixes: Some impressive original mixes, courtesy of former Current DJ Danny Sigelman. There’s Old School Soul (Al Green, Candi Staton), the ’80s (Duran Duran, Thompson Twins), Rock (AC/DC, Guided By Voices), and Minnesota Music (Jayhawks, Dosh, Haley Bonar).

Locals: Besides the general luxury of relieving yourself to the dulcet tones of Meat Loaf, this is where the jukebox really excels. Local records include Chris Koza’s Exit Pesce, Kid Dakota’s The West Is The Future, and Mike Gunther’s Every Dream That’s Dropped And Died.

Why in the hell?: 331 Club general manager Jarret Oulman said the story is simple: There was no room. About a year ago, Oulman decided to expand the main room’s stage, booting the jukebox from the premises. Meanwhile, City Pages voted the machine the city’s Best Jukebox in 2008, which put Oulman in a bind. The only open spaces were in the bar’s restrooms, and putting it in the ladies’ room was the clear solution. “If you put it in the men's room it would have lasted a week, maybe,” says Oulman. “They'd destroy it. It's something that's really cool for people to talk about, so now it's not going anywhere. Every once in a while, a lady will come out of the bathroom and think that she's putting in music that's going through the whole house. They'll put quarters in there and put on music for the next lady going in.”

Men may be reckless vandals, but bartender Dick Donovan says very few dudes try to bust into the ladies’ room. He also sums up the typical reaction thusly: “It’s usually, ‘What the fuck, there’s a jukebox in the women’s bathroom!’”

331 Club patron Ellen Saunders is more subdued. “Usually I’ll put a dollar in when I sit down,” she shrugs. “It’s a nice perk.”