A Saturday night at Public Records

Beats pulsed like a throbbing heartbeat thrashing a metallic hymn. Strobes entrapped dancing bodies in an electrified robotic stutter. And Public Records’ hi-fi quadraphonic Sound Room transported Brooklyn’s rapidly gentrifying Gowanus neighborhood into a world-class nightspot.

I’d wanted to explore Public Records since it opened in April 2019, but a variety of reasons kept me away. Mostly my friends are married with kids and getting them out is nearly impossible. (I’m also married with a three-year old, but I still manage to leave the house.) So rather than wait for a wingman to magically appear, I dove in. 

On a rainy Saturday night, after getting turned down by my homebuddies, I jumped into a taxi for an evening of electronic dance music. 

Situated in the old ASPCA headquarters on Butler Street, Public Records transformed its former industrial space into a sound mecca. There’s a bar, vegan café with LPs and audiophile stereo equipment for sale, and a space for live events. My evening goal was to check out the Sound Room performance space, where national and international artists spin vinyl-record-heavy sets through an amazing quadraphonic sound system. I also planned on checking out the bar while breaking from the heavy beats. 

Unsure of what to expect, I arrived at Public Records around 10:15 pm. I wanted to experience the room and its sonic resonance before things got hot and heavy. It also helped that arriving before midnight usually permits free entry with RSVP (normally around $20-30).  

After having my ID checked by an imposing security guard, I walked through Public Records’ tree-lined courtyard. A right turn heads into the bar while continuing straight leads to the live-music Sound Room. Bags aren’t allowed into the venue, so I checked my coat and backpack with the attendant ($4) and slid into the music. 

The room felt like being transported into the movie Tron. A red hip-high stripe of light traced the dimly-lit hallway. A gauzy fog wafted through the air. A sword of light shredded the club’s shadows, cutting the darkness with its conical blade and revealing the maybe 20 early arrivers enjoying the beats and space to dance.

The rhythm was contagious, but I had more to explore. I walked around the room examining the quadraphonic system’s eight-foot-tall speakers. Built using new and vintage equipment (including honeycomb-shaped Altec horns), the Sound Rooms’ fidelity stuns. 

Nightclub audio systems usually leave my ears ringing and guts queasy. Not so at Public Records. Their audiophile acoustics produce crisp musical amplification. The entire room sounds fabulous. For audio ecstasy, stand beneath the shimmering disco ball in the center of the room. It’s the sweet spot where each of the four speakers aim. 

I planted myself under the disco ball, drifting into DJ Mary Yuzovskaya’s rhythm. Her infectious beats overran my body like Poindexter in Revenge of the Nerds (except my moves were arguably much cooler). 

The crowd slowly thickened as the night progressed. Beats got deeper and darker. Space to dance shrunk. 

With all the new arrivals, the chatter of revelry and conversations battled the music for supremacy. I gave up my spot underneath the disco ball and wandered the room, stepping onto the mostly empty stage used for instrument-based performances. (The DJs conduct the evening from a booth in the front of the room).

From my stage-top perch, I watched as the rhythm’s current swooshed through the dancers, their movements swaying with the beat. Beams of red, blue, green light swept through the room’s pegboard-lined walls, bouncing off sweaty faces and disco ball reflecting a constellation of stars.

It was an epic scene and I was in it. Intoxicated by the music, the lights, the ambiance. (And believe it or not, completely drug- and drink-free.)  

I needed a breath and headed to the adjoining bar expecting to find a pack of

scruffy hipsters. Instead, downtempo tunes flowed above the artsy clientele. Sophisticated people sipped microbrews and bespoke cocktails in booths and café tables. It was a starkly different yet complementary atmosphere to the Sound Room’s melodious groove.

I felt satisfied by and content with my adventure. 

At Public Records, two musical worlds exist in parallel, bridged by world-class artists holding court over disparate rhythmic kingdoms.