“Once one of my door guys said, ‘The greatest thing about the Mutiny is that anyone can play here,'” says Mutiny owner Ed Mroz. “‘The worst thing about the Mutiny is that anyone can play here.'”
“I remember at a (Lone) Wolf & Cub show there, someone was just tearing track lighting down from the ceiling,” says artist and musician Ryan Duggan. Destroying part or all of the Mutiny’s ceiling became something of a tradition—at a show there I played with the Catburglars more than a decade ago, in the middle of a song I saw someone pull down a drop-ceiling tile and take a bite out of it. Until last Friday, Mroz was selling off the remaining ceiling tiles as keepsakes.
The Mutiny wasn’t all about blackout drunks, smashed ceilings, and the disturbingly huge urinal in the men’s room. Many regulars found a cozy community at this one-of-a-kind dump, and it will be sorely missed in a Logan Square full of high-rises and cocktail bars.
I have many foggy “post-Mutiny” tales of crashing my bicycle into a snowbank or running down Fullerton with an ill-gotten Christmas tree I could get into, but I’ll spare you. I don’t remember everything from that bar, but what I do I won’t soon forget.
The regulars were crazy too—shift drinkers, old crust punks, weird loners, all types of crazy people. The shift drinkers were the ones who taught me the beauty of Malört, and it’s been my shot of choice ever since. I’ll never forget guessing this one girl’s sign at the bar—she was so impressed, she ended up making out with me in the phone booth for 20 minutes. That was a great night! I’ve seen knife fights and full-on bar brawls. Believe me, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen a whole bar of punks beating the piss out of each other, only to have it get broken up by the CPD. Regardless, it was just another night at the Mutiny. It’s a great place, and I’ll miss it . . . but I won’t miss the smell of that friggin’ urinal. Yeesh!
Functional Blackouts (2001-2006) by Functional Blackouts Mark McKenzie, aka Mac Blackout of the Functional Blackouts and Daily Void The Functional Blackouts began our art-damaged rock ‘n’ roll terror spree in 2001. It was a different time, when expressing one’s self onstage in primal ways was considered art and at times highly relatable in spirit. We first heard about the Mutiny from friends. They told of a lawless dreamland where bands could do whatever they wanted, a “wreck” center of sorts where our restless hearts and feral spirits could feel at home. We soon booked what was probably our third show there, and it quickly became our main hangout and favorite place to play.
