The Peacock

The Peacock announced that tonight is it’s last night.
Here’s The Austinist link:
From The Peacock:
After four years, The Peacock is closing tonight. We have not been able to get the proper permits to rebuild our deck and the landlord will not renegotiate our lease. We are hoping that The Peacock will reopen soon under new ownership. So, please come by tonight to celebrate our final night and say farewell.
Thank you for your patronage and support over the past years.

Imagine a plywood shack in the midst of an urban slum where gunfire is being heard from every corner. You open the door to said shack to reveal the most opulent bar you’ve ever seen. You’re stunned. You’re amazed. You have found your Shangri-​la.
Ok, now mute all of that considerably, and you have The Peacock.
I’m not sure who’s muse this place was, but it wouldn’t shock me if from time to time someone’s ’rounding up the usual suspects.’ Which, in this case, undoubtedly comes from the faux yuppie-​artist clientele.

I used to love this place, but it seems that they are stripping away everything charming about it. About a week ago, I was very eager to bring a friend of mine from out of town to see the bar, and when we arrived it was pretty much dead, with incongruous and crummy reggae music played way too loud and a bartender who was not nearly as attentive as the ones I remember from just a couple of months ago. We stuck it out long enough to have a drink, and then fled for a place that wasn’t so obviously on its last legs.
It’s really a pity what’s happened to The Peacock. It used to be my favorite bar.

It’s a box of a place. Box in a good way, like the thing a good present comes in, not box as in a large chain store.
The presents were many and varied. I recall a cider and a man bringing peanuts. I was there for around 9 minutes, and loved every one of them.

This will definitely be the first bar i go to when i visit Austin again. The environment reminded me of home. The jukebox was pretty decent, the prices were nothing to complain about, the décor was a fresh change without being too dramatic. It’s just downright comfy.

I was here a few weeks back when Gang-​Yelp took over this joint like the awesome lot of miscreants that we are for Thanksdrinking.
I like this place because it is small (cozy) and yet there was ample room for all of us to be crazy. I liked the décor, but word to the wise from the bruised «Don’t plop down on that sofa. It’s HARD!!!»
The jukebox was a lot of fun. The bartender was cool as hell.
I look forward to returning hopefully in gang formation and freaking out the unsuspecting other patrons.

I really enjoyed my trip to the Peacock, and I got a taste of far East Austin.
When someone told me the Peacock was in east Austin I thought, ok, like Manor road… obviously I’m an east Austin newbie, because this place was pretty far east. The buildings were looking more condemned, the houses were looking less nice, the English language started to disappear, then all of the sudden you cross a railroad track and you’ve arrived at the Peacock.
No offense to East Austin, but the Peacock’s décor doesn’t match East Austin rough exterior. The inside is really cool, and very inviting. Hanging out at the Peacock gives you the feeling of hanging out in a Rich old woman’s parlor… except really cool and fun.
I would definitely visit here again and I suggest everyone make the trek to East Austin to visit this place as well.
Unilocalers who live in East Austin can stop rolling their eyes at my review now… I’m not trying to offend, I’m just a East Austin rookie.

This was THE Perfect Place to start Thanksgiving. On the beginning fringe of a long week, a few friends and I needed a place to blow off some steam. And boy did we! Again, Unilocalers make a place that much better.
I had one mixed drink that was just okay… I have no idea what it was. They were out of mint – boo. The beers were super cold.
When there’s not an official dance floor, sometimes you have to move tables and make your own. The jukebox may be pricey, but worth it – ABBA, Queen, New Kids – I mean, seriously people!
I’d like to go back and see what it’s like when it’s not inundated with a million cool people. (I think the bartender was not expecting that many people on a Tuesday night!)
And to the jerks who sat and gave us funny looks for dancing – maybe YOU were the ones in OUR space and maybe you should just get over yourself and have some fun. Yeesh. You’re not *that* cool.

In a life where I figure there are very few sure things, there have always been a few factoids I figured I could count on: one, that Chuck Klosterman would spontaneously combust if Chinese Democracy ever came out, and that The Peacock would remain a semi-​kitschy East Side pseudo dive with a penchant for goofy by way of feminine cocktails and an affable affinity for french wall accoutrements and white leather chairs.
Much of this remains true, but in honor of the fact that apparently Guns N Roses has finally released the long awaited opus (I’m not particularly a fan, but I’ve read enough Chuck K. to be familiar with the quandary for those who are) and given the fact that thanks for Justin’s pre-​Turkey Day UYE we wandered in here last night, this seemed like the perfect time for an update. Because the more things change, the more not all of them stay the same at The Peacock. And that was a little bit of a jolt for me. Who knew. Gone is the, well, gi-​normous peacock that adorned the joint back in the day, gone (at least on this night) the DJs, and actually I didn’t see the jukebox either, and in a room this size, that’s hard to find. They’ve knocked over the wall that used to contain the back patio with the weird flood plane, and essentially that’s where you enter through now.
Gone also are the tastings that they tried out for awhile, the beer menu has expanded, and the place seems content to bide time as a semi-​divey brew and ambient light joint. And that suits me just fine. But I have to say… I can’t quite sort whether that’s by design or via the evolutionary refining (purging?) of those things that haven’t quite worked. Here’s hoping they uncover that note that hits just right.

I checked out The Peacock last night for some Happy Thanksdrinking. Here’s my take on the bar–
Useful:
Pretty big parking lot so patrons of The Peacock don’t have to waste precious drankin’ time looking for a spot.
The bathrooms (I tried the men’s and women’s last night) stay very clean, this is always appreciated.
Funny:
Crooner stylings alongside ABBA and Souja boy on the jukebox. This made for some interesting spins on the makeshift dancefloor. I don’t know if dancing is frowned upon on this side of 35, but we didn’t care and tore it up anyway.
Cool:
Big drink menu for those who are indecisive and/​or lack creativity when it comes to picking your poison.
Even cooler, though, is the fact that the bartender is great at mixing a drink. Half liquor and half mixer is just the way I like it!
All in all the vibe here was great. The bartender was super cool, the décor is hip and the regulars were friendly. One came and demo’ed the Carlton dance for us all (though not as well as my mom’s rendition) and another bought me a birthday shot and it wasn’t even my birthday! Holla!

M [raising hand]: Right here… I wanna dance.
V: I’m not much of a dancer.
M: Now I’m the one gettin’ gyped. I do believe he told you to take me out and do whatever I wanted. Well, now I want to dance, I want to win, I want that trophy. So dance good.
V: Alriiight.
[Trot to jukebox*]
Jukebox: Now let’s meet our first contestants here this evening, young lady what’s your name?
M: Misses Me Ow.
Jukebox: And how is your fella here?
M [in lower octave]: V. Vega
Jukebox: Alright let’s see what you can do. Take it away!
Jukebox: It was a teenage wedding, and the old folks wished them well
You could see that Peacock did truly love the madamoiselle
And now the young monsieur and madame have rung the chapel bell,
«C’est la vie», say the old folks, it goes to show you never can tell
They furnished off a lounge room with a two room Roebuck sale
The coolerator was crammed with green tea and ginger ale,
But when Peacock found work, the little money comin’ worked out well
«C’est la vie», say the old folks, it goes to show you never can tell
They had a hi-​fi phono, boy, did they let it blast
Seven hundred little records, all rock, rhythm and jazz
But when the sun went down, the rapid tempo of the music fell
«C’est la vie», say the old folks, it goes to show you never can tell
They bought a souped-​up jitney, ’twas a cherry red ’53,
They drove it down to Pedernales to celebrate the anniversary
It was there that Pecock was married to the lovely madamoiselle
«C’est la vie», say the old folks, it goes to show you never can tell
*The Thanksdrinking Jukebox will also host Soulja Boy, Dee Lite, & Abba with a few onesies and two shakes of a lamb’s tail.

Oh hey, what’s up Peacock?
Oh nothin’, just some Green Tea Vodka concoction to make your panties explode off your body.
Cool, cool.

As far as scene-​kid, indie/​shock/​electric dance bars go [a spectacle that nowadays, I no longer enjoy from the pit, but rather from the balcony] The Peacock is really one of the most charming and affable joints I’ve visited in relation to others like it around the country.
The initial sensory engagement is the auditory sensation … good music by [thankfully] a proper DJ [as opposed to the infestation of push-​play-​ers on the scene]. I didn’t catch the name, but it was a Saturday, and he was waify and not all shy to dance to his own collection of Soul/​Funk/​Indie. Well done. Reminded my of a young, padawan William F**cking Reed from Phoenix, AZ.
The visual stimuli of the Victorian style bar and embroidered white pleather barstools blazoned with plume-​y, turquoise peacocks give a heavy nod to the establishment’s handle. The eyes will also be pleased with the selection of specialty cocktails made with care by the pleasant bartenders [surprisingly, there are two, which is a bonus considering the tiny space really only calls for one], which leads to appeasement of the gastronomic and olfactory senses made possible by a white peacock.
The only knock is the smoking lot, a demi-​space for yellow two-​speeds, silver Corollas, and American Spirit puffers. I’d like to see something I could visit whilst being bought on my cocktail. As it is, I really don’t like leaving my drink unattended on the inside as I inhale discount cigs on the outside.

Have you ever walked into a bar and just *immediately* known you were in the wrong place? You weren’t dressed right, you weren’t the right age, perhaps you should be packing heat…
I felt none of that walking into The Peacock. Laid back but efficient bartenders, décor I’d cut off a pinky for, crazy awesome music, a decent happy hour and sazuracs (among other ‘vintage’ drinks) on the (affordable) drink menu… ya’ll, I’ve found heaven and its walls are turquoise!
I met such fun people here, too! No one got loud or stupid, everyone was there to just have a few drinks with friends. Its enough to make me want to move east of 35.
My sazurac and ‘peachick’ were perfection; my friend’s white peacock was so buttery smooth it was dangerous.
My only issue, and its such a teensy-​tiny thing, is that bar snacks (nuts and such) should be free. Perhaps thats why the drink prices are so reasonable… so perhaps I shouldn’t complain!

I don’t drive, and therefore do not get to come here nearly as much as I’d like.
The atmosphere? Vintage-​swanky. The music? Always good. The staff? Very friendly. The cocktails? Somewhat inventive.
I like the colours, seating arrangement, menu… prices… there’s not a whole lot to say, just incredible atmosphere with reasonable prices on booze… oh, and the peachick, it’s a peach schnapps, something else, and champagne cocktail. I love champagne cocktails, and in this city, they’re not easy to find!
***Revised Edit***
I have something negative to say about the Peacock, and it’s this…
Every time I tried to order the drink that comes with peach schnapps, grapefruit, and champagne I asked for it by name, «Peach Cock.» They always smiled, said it back to me, «The Peach Cock, right?» and let me do this for oh, 1 – 2 years.
I look at the menu.
That’s when I learned it’s called a «Pea Chick.»

Only two things stuck in my memory about peacock lounge:
1. Yes, it’s a small bar, but it does take forever to get a drink. Plus bartenders are not so friendly. Yell your heart out when it’s your turn to order (usually you’ve been waiting for more than 15 mins) and if she cannot understand you, it’s your fault.
2. They put water in my margarita after they figured out there was too less fluid in my drink. Oh, you ask me how I knew that? because she did it in front of my face. What a dumb rip-​off.

I first went here about a year ago. Scenester douchebag haven, loud (live band) and utterly packed inside. I stood at the bar for fifteen minutes. Slim, the female bartender was quite obviously ignoring me. I gave up frustrated and sluffed back out to the patio.
I planned to never return to this place, but recently I was searching Chowhound for a place to get good old-​fashioned bourbon-​based cocktails. The Peacock came up, so we decided to try again. Much quieter. Sweet conversational bartendress. Wasn’t packed (8pm or so on a Friday night). I hear they’ve stopped having live music inside (thank god… as previously noted, the place is an acoustic nightmare). And yes, the cocktails were good.
Edit: My next visit will determine whether I increase the rating. At the moment it’s an average of «terrible» and «nice.»
! Edit 3÷3÷08:
OK, The Peacock is hipster hell with OK cocktails. Just that. Three stars, final offer.
FYI this is one of those places that is lenient on the smoking ban.

The Peacock reminds me of Bob Dylan. I try, but i just don’t get the big deal about either of them.
It’s not for lack of trying. I’ve sat through No Direction Home. Twice. Both discs. That Martin Scorcese. He makes a great film.
But I never get past Dylan’s voice. It’s whiny. It’s nasally. And I never really get him being the best songwriter ever. He’s no Townes Van Zandt. I’d even put Paul Simon’s catalog up against Dylan’s.
Which is, metaphorically speaking, exactly how I feel about the Peacock. There are enough Scorceses of bars that devote 4 hours of filmmaking time to it, that I feel compelled to admit there’s something great about it — I just can’t find it.
For starters, the interior looks like someone walked into Beauty Bar and said, «Can I see this in teal? I mean a lot of freaking teal? Like everywhere, teal.»
So, you have a room of teal. There’s a stuffed peacock behind the bar. And that’s it. Plain doesn’t begin to describe it. It’s a wide open, 40×40 room covered in teal.
So, these bare walls do nothing for helping the volume in this place. It was so loud in there last night that landing a Harrier jump jet in the parking lot would have had to be quieter.
Also, it looked like a bus pulled up from the Midwest and dumped out a barload of people. I haven’t seen so many average looking people since I was at my ex wife’s family reunion. I asked Jeff R. if he noticed anything weird. «Like?»
“Not one tattoo sleeve in this whole place.”
«There’s one.»
«Yeah, but she’s a bartender at the Long Branch. Doesn’t count.»
Speaking of Long Branch, we headed straight there. Now, that’s an East Austin bar.
How does it feel, Peacock? To be on your own?
This songwriting stuff is easy schmeasy.

I am not a hipster.
I dont mind hipsters, actually quite like a lot of them, but being surrounded by hipsters in an enviornment so loud I cant carry on a conversation and end up miming and making large gestures to get my point across, really isnt my bag, baby.
Yes, the place is beautiful. When I went the patio was closed for remodling. I do like the colors and decorations, and I m sure the place would be much better on a quieter night or for a private party when its empty enough to move around.
I didnt love it. I think the complaint is mostly because of the loudness of the jams and the smallness of the space.
What I will give amazing props for is creating a buzz. Although apparently Peacock has been there forever, they lept onto the social scene a few months ago and has been the talk of the town.
I ordered wine and it came out of a box. A mini box. Like a juice box. And the glass was small.
I only stayed thirty minutes because I couldnt find a chair.
Nuff said.

What looks like a dive from the outside is actually quite hipster on the inside. And don’t let the photograph fool you. The place will get so crowded, you’ll be standing at the entrance wondering how you might be able to wade (or levitate) through the sardine-​packed lounge, which looks like George Washington’s living room with a splash of Liberace.
Once you do get close to the bar, you might be able fight your way to the bartender’s attention. Unfortunately, after 20 minutes of futile waiting and trying to make eye contact, I gave up. It just didn’t seem that worth it. My friends and I just wanted to have a drink — we didn’t necessarily care to be «scene.»
Maybe I ought to try a more quiet night.