One Man's Meat Is Another Man's Offal - Cleveland Scene
Stepping into The Night Kitchen, a new coffee shop in the LINO District, I didn't know whether to turn tail and run, or just flop onto one of the plush, velvet couches and start huffing paint thinner. Sure, the teenage wench at the counter at the counter was characteristically sullen and looked as though she had been dipped into mascara and ash, but at least the coffee was a good, strong roast. The décor was your typical grandpa’s-rec room-meets-Satan’s-crack-den with second hand furniture, leering gargoyle statuary and lovingly framed posters of 70s Hammer films.
The "entertainment" for the evening was a pair of well-dressed "vampires" (I will withhold all further air quotes, you get me) who make up The Phantom Toolbooth. One was stout, a pitbull of a man, wrapped in leather, who noisily cut his way to the dinky stage, as though the show had already started in the utility closet. The other, the tall, quiet one with all the hair, appeared to glide across the floor, looking for all the world as though he wished anyone else was there but the small audience who had gathered.
The performance itself was unremarkable, the lyrics an amalgam of classical references and crude sexual double-entendres ("Is this a dagger I see before me," indeed) and included all the requisite posing, slinking and growling of someone who desperately wants to be Trent Reznor, but isn't. - Jordan Branston, Scene Magazine, 10/7/2009
The Night Kitchen, 8850 East 58th Street, Cleveland
also: The Search for Real Absinthe: Like Tinkerbell, the Green Fairy lives only if we believe in her. - Reason