Rico Suave

The week after Christmas is a metaphorical hangover, as opposed to the literal hangover that follows New Year’s Eve. The gifts are unwrapped, there are none forthcoming in the near future, and the daunting thought of paying for those shopping sprees is just starting to settle in. Tonight at Dark Horse Tavern (4112 Pennsylvania, 816-931-3663), forlorn patrons can self-medicate with alcohol and a generous sampling of Mancunian-accented mopers — the Smiths, the Cure, Bauhaus, Joy Division — whose melodramatic woes can put anyone’s problems in perspective. Even guys who made it through the season unscathed might find themselves fending off a self-esteem crisis when they spot DJ Rico, a mountainous man who never appears in public without at least one ravishing escort. But after a few drinks and tunes, they’ll realize that even if they’re not nationally known, locally adored skinhead icons, they’re better off than that poor bastard Morrissey.

Tuesdays, 2005