Popination Consecration
A series of unhinged personal essays disguised as pub reviews. Today: The Crypt
Whether you’ve parked on the street nearby or have been dropped off by an Uber, you’ll need to carefully tread the uneven paving-stoned sidewalk, past that scary-looking bus shelter with the overflowing garbage can and smoking, hunched-over men crowded inside the graffitied glass, to get to the opening in the wrought-iron gate that will take you through the pub smokers’ patio to the front door.
It’s dimly, redly lit inside, and cool if it’s the afternoon. Once your eyes adjust to the interior and you’ve shown your ID to the smiling pierced-faced nonbinary kid at the door, you’ll start to notice what’s on all the walls.
As you sit at the bar, your eye will be distracted from the chalkboard version of the menu, your gaze drifting down across movie posters depicting both famous and odd indie horror flicks of all kinds. Dolls and toys line the whiskey shelf, all horrific icons from that genre, and over there on the side next to the kitchen entrance and the ramp to the restrooms, an almost life-sized doll, wigged and nightgowned and covered in blood, that you think is from The Exorcist? You can’t be sure, but what you do know is that she’s grinning at you spookily. Are her eyes following you as you shift?
Speaking of the restrooms, they have content warning signs posted outside each door. When you go in, you see why: photos of body parts, cadavers, and other grim and gory artistically rendered nightmares are dimly (but definitely) visible on the dark walls of each bathroom, lit with a diffusion of scarlet light.
The heaviest of metal and loudest of hardcore music plays in all the speakers, and flyers of same adorn whatever walls aren’t covered in horror movie swag. Strings of fairy lights and cobwebby fake Halloween webs festoon the ceilings. You see a sign, written in ichor-green, advertising something called Crypt Juice. You’re curious. Wonder what that could taste like?
Where have I taken you? What is this house of horrors, you ask? Why, it’s Denver’s hottest new(ish) themed bar, and it’s called:
The Crypt
I know that with pretty much every pub I’ve covered so far in my popinations series, I keep talking about how each one is a comfort in various ways. I’m not lying—as you’ve read before if you’ve read any of my other entries in this series, I find myself becoming a regular quite, well, regularly at different places, at which I do find true comfort in sitting and sipping and doing my (especially writing) work. But The Crypt is one of these that is a deep comfort in a very different, particular way for me.
Ever know anybody (or maybe you are one of these people yourself) that turns to artistic genres like Horror, Metal, Goth, Grimdark, Punk, Hardcore, etc. as a soothing balm for the soul? I’m like this, and that’s what the Crypt does for me—it gives me that unusual feeling of calm that only comes from the arts of the horrific.
The horror, the horror…
Now I’m relatively new to my own enjoyment of horror in movies and literature, and very new to Metal as a musical genre that I enjoy and appreciate. I grew up with Tales From the Crypt and with Elvira, however (and I’d add Dr. Demento to this list myself, though you may argue with me on that). But I dressed in and loved Goth stuff as a teen, and delved deep into vampires and dark spirituality, occulty stuff like astrology, Tarot cards and the like as a young woman. When my partner and I started seeing each other again (about 5ish years ago now, though we first met in high school), he proceeded to introduce me, by my request, to his love of heavy metal, punk and hardcore music (and many sub-genres of same), as well as his own soul-balm of horror movies.
He also had Joe Bob, of horror-commentary fame, along with those other spooky figures I describe, growing up, whom I only discovered through his reboot. So many of us in the Gen X age group read way too scary/gory/adult books way too early, listened to all the sludgy and terrifying Metal, and saw the horror movies never meant for us, and it shaped us. As much as lead poisoning did.* Now it can be argued that my partner had a much rougher and more traumatic childhood than me, which is why he gravitated more towards the grody horror stuff and noisier music genres than I did, which is true in some ways for sure. But what I think more so is that we just came through different flavors of darkness to meet here. Here at The Crypt, to be precise.
*Go ahead and look up Gen X and lead poisoning and get disturbed. Go ahead. I’m doing no new research on any of these pieces, remember?
What type of person feels soothed by horror & darkness? What is is about our psyches (and that of all those who flock to The Crypt) that makes us feel safe and calm in this environment? I might be be more perplexed at those people who are repelled by this kind of stuff, not in a judgy way, but more introspectively, like: is there something about roughness in one’s early life that makes for a darker taste? Do people who are not exposed to real life darkness have a fear of it, because foreign? Or is it just a different way of reacting and coping with such things? I have noticed that horror fans and listeners of the gnarliest death metal tend to be better adjusted, kinder, gentler beings with stronger senses of empathy than others in my experience. Why do you think that is? Is it a mere matter of Eat, Drink, and Be Merry, For Tomorrow We Die?
But! Like I’ve said: I’m doing NO RESEARCH afresh on any of my musings related to any of these pubs. Though there has been plenty done already about this concept, that I’m sure is easy enough to find a good sociological rabbit hole to fall down if you’re interested in this question. Which I am, so heck, I may just write another whole article just about that.
Suffice to say that The Crypt is a delightful horror-themed part bar part club—the bar part is straight as you enter as described above, and the club part is a really nice (though relatively small) space attached by a passageway to the right, loomed over by a giant skeleton wielding a scythe. That other room is separated enough that the music played by DJs or bands spelled with spiky unreadable fonts don’t mix with anything playing on the main side. There’s a bar down there too, on the side of the dance floor.
I was at The Crypt recently for a late dinner before a club performance nearby, and a whole family was sitting next to me at the bar like a row of birds on a wire. There was a mom and dad and a young woman who looked so like them I figured she must be their daughter. They all sat, nibbling on spicy cauliflower bites, sipping pints of beer, and MST3King the cheesy ‘80s horror movie playing on the screen above the bar. That’s what’s always playing on the Crypt’s screens, just like sports in normal bars. There were no captions turned on, so all interpretations were valid. I can’t describe to you the sense of full wellbeing as I sat there, chortling at their snark, sipping alternately on French onion soup and a pint of Stone IPA.
Meat is Delicious Murder but the Vegan Stuff is Actually Just as Good
The FOOD at The Crypt is DYNAMITE.
My favorite go-to for lunch is their French onion soup, and my partner’s is their famous Crypt burger. They have a special philosophy about good healthy food—we chatted with Chris, a bartender and co-founder of the place, last time we were there together, who averred that really well made, homecooked, mostly vegan food was something they were especially proud of. And they should be: all of their food is delicious, reasonably priced, and pretty gosh darn healthy for the most part. And served late.
They emphasize vegan options, as I said, which actually matches the hardcore environment well, making for a full punk experience. I couldn’t ever possibly go vegan myself, as I love cheese too much, but their vegan variants (even their vegan cheese) are actually truly delicious. No lie. I would not say this if I didn’t mean it.
It’s also a good place and a comfortable if you’re not drinking alcohol. They have good mocktails and again, their food is delicious and health-centered. It’s easy, in other words, to go to this bar and not feel pressured to get boozed. It’s perfectly comfortable and good when you’re “sans cans,” as the Moon Under Water podcast puts it.
When there’s a concert or dance party the two bars are open indeed but there’s always those huge spigoted containers of water set atop side tables, for free. When I was out there on Halloween way more people, it seemed, were in line at those water jugs than the bars.
Horror and health. That’s how they roll at The Crypt.
Watch out for those Crypt Juice shots though—they’re doozys.
Sales From the Crypt
In that second separate room where the DJs or live shows are, where the stage and the dance floor are, and the horror movies aren’t, there’s often a beautiful gothy bazaar in the afternoon, where dark arts and kinky trinkets are sold in a monthly art fair they call Sales From the Crypt. Cute. Last time I went to one of these farmer’s markets for Goths my partner bought some Munsters coasters for the home, and I saw one of my acquaintances from other events like Goth Prom and Repent Night that makes these collars and spooky jewels and other kinky accessories. Something dark for everyone.
A Terror-ific Reputation
The Crypt has been getting some positive attention around Denver since its opening, recently, so it does tend to be packed kind of often, especially when they have a show in the nightclubby half. I found this out the hard way when I went there to pre-game for a different performance, and I happened to show up wanting my quiet horror and my French onion soup and my beer, and found myself packed in like a sardine, no room to sit, club lighting already going. Which, don’t get me wrong, is super fun if that’s your vibe—I went to their Halloween disco last year (see image above) and had a blast! But know what’s happening when you go. I notice they now have summer hours, which means that in the warmer months they’re open earlier in the afternoons, which is nice because I can do my 2-3pm thing that I’ve written about before that feels so mellow and cozy. Especially here, surrounded by blood, flooded with joyful noise.
Make a Joyful Noise Unto the Lord
Because of this cozy/crazy bipolar dynamic (and because it requires a heftier Uber than most of my regular places), I’m not sure how practical The Crypt is for me as a 3rd-place type popination. But I do love it whenever I do end up there, so maybe it’s just one of those that I can cherish whenever I can get down there and am in a particularly horrific terrific mood. There’s a time and a place for that, for sure.
I think I enjoy the subtitles on these just a bit much.
Would have helped if I had ever been to Boulder...