Review

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Dream Street serves up a rock star quality night

By Maggie Grainger

March 27, 2006

San Diego--I love going out to drink. I really love going out to drink in Ocean Beach.

Not only are the crowds more chill than the (at times) superficial partiers down in Pacific Beach, but the drink specials fit my budget, I don’t have to dress up and there is always some emerging local band to check out.

And the number one place to check out resident talent is, hands down, the legendary (by San Diego standards) music venue Dream Street located off of Newport, on 2228 Bacon Street.

I had wanted to check out the bar for some time and convinced my two friends, Steph and Laura, to make the trek from the College Area down to Ocean Beach, promising them a relaxed atmosphere and some good tunes.

Dream Street is nothing to shout about when you first walk in the door. The layout is pretty standard—a simple bar, serving up anything your heart desires, sits in the back and pool tables are nestled in the corner by the bathrooms. The only defining feature that distinguishes Dream Street from other dive bars is the large stage at one end and the open space surrounding it which leaves plenty of room for drunken fans to dance, sing and rock out to the musicians on stage.

It was already 9:30 p.m. and although the headlining band wasn’t scheduled to start until midnight, I expected more people to be hanging around and supporting the opening act—apparently the poor souls on stage didn’t have many friends who were willing to leave home before 10:00.

I’m not going to lie—the joint was pretty dead.

A group of yuppie-looking guys were shooting pool in the corner and several people, half of whom I recognized from San Diego State, were milling around the bar. The young guy was really warbling onstage and a group of pretentious hipsters were nodding their heads to the beat of his song, sipping on their rum and cokes, oblivious to the other patrons.

I was debating whether or not to can Dream Street and give in to my friends’ suggestions to go to P.B. Bar and Grill (ugh!), when someone offered the three of us drinks.

The two female bartenders were eager to serve us and our new friends and were even happier to serve us when they noticed me reach into my pocket and pull out a credit card. Getting into the rock star spirit, I opened my tab and ordered a round of Jager bombs for everyone (opting not to think about the dent it would make in my account until later).

Three bombs later all three of us noticed the ambiance of the place had changed. Streams of people were coming in and everyone was drinking like they didn’t have to drive.

I struck up a conversation with an older guy about the local music scene and he said he always hits up Dream Street to see new faces.

By now the warbler had finished his set and another band was busy setting up their equipment. A crowd had started forming in front of the stage and the noise level had risen several decibels—these guys obviously had more friends.

Suddenly everyone was singing and dancing, although it was apparent half the crowd had no idea what the words were. It didn’t matter, though. Everyone was caught up in the musical vibe.

The fans were crazy and once the band’s set was over, everyone wanted to talk to them about it. As we milled around for the headliner I found myself talking to a handful of people about everything drugs, sex and rock ‘n’ roll. Time flew and before I knew it the headliner was packing up and the bar was closing.

Dream Street had definitely lived up to its name and despite all my worries, I had a rock star quality night.

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Maggie Grainger is a freelance writer and frequent contributor to Vyuz.