I t’s after 3 a.m. on a recent weekend and the party’s still going inside Karamba Nightclub in Phoenix. Last call is a distant memory as the dance floor at the LGBTQ+ Latin spot near 17th Street and McDowell Road is filled with color and movement during one of its High Energy After Hours sessions. As hip-hop and electronic dance tracks pulsate, vibrant lasers and spotlights illumi- nate young clubgoers of various ethnicities, sexual orientations and gender identities moving to the beat. The vibe is inclusive and the atmosphere is electric. The common denominator uniting this diverse crowd? Their mutual desire to go wild out on the dance floor until the wee hours. There’s no booze fueling the late-night fun at Karamba, as its bar only sells non- alcoholic drinks after 2 a.m. The setup hasn’t been a total buzzkill for patrons, as the club has been a desti- nation for post-last-call dancing for decades. Karamba owner John Martinez says after-hours have been a hallmark of the property since before he bought it in 2004, back when it was called Boom Nightclub. “The previous owner had it when it was Boom, and it was an extremely popular era (for the club). Then it died off because the crowd moved on,” Martinez says. “So I came in with a completely different approach but kept (the after-hours).” Karamba is among a handful of Phoenix nightspots offering dancing after last call on weekends. A few miles west, Latin club DWNTWN and its neighbor The Grand stay open past 3 a.m. Meanwhile, on Camelback Road near Seventh Avenue, landmark gay bar Charlie’s keeps its dance floor hot until 4 a.m. Why don’t other local clubs and bars keep things going after turning off their taps at 2 a.m.? The lack of alcohol sales is the primary reason, but there are others, some tied to COVID-related issues: staffing shortages, the added expense of staying open longer hours and an overall lack of patrons late at night. Many of these same factors are why a vast majority of Valley restaurants, bars, coffeehouses, retailers and other busi- nesses don’t stay open past midnight, never mind the wee hours. Kimber Lanning, CEO and founder of community and economic development nonprofit Local First Arizona, says that’s why Phoenix isn’t considered to be a late-night city. “We’ve just never been geared that way,” Lanning says. “Things have gotten better over the years, but no one’s going to mistake us for New York.” Valley nightlife has come a long way from the days when Phoenix’s downtown became a ghost town after 6 p.m. and locals joked about cities rolling up their sidewalks after dark. There are now nightlife hubs like Roosevelt Row, Mill Avenue in Tempe and Scottsdale’s entertainment district. But there’s still room for improve- ment, especially with the Valley’s post-2 a.m. landscape. These days, locals can grab dinner and drinks at a majority of eateries or brew- eries until 10 or 11 p.m. As things get later, though, options decrease dramatically. After midnight, most upscale spots close. By 1 a.m., the vast majority of restaurants still open are of the drive-thru or Denny’s variety. When last call hits, bars and clubs goes dark. Things are better on Fridays and Saturdays, as many nightspots cater to weekend crowds by staying open until 2 a.m. After that, though, local night owls searching for a decent cup of coffee after- hours or eats that don’t involve a combo meal are often left to wonder, “Why isn’t Phoenix more of the late-night city?” It’s a topic that’s been widely discussed in social media circles by insomniacs, third-shifters and 24-hour party people on the regular. On Reddit, users ask variations of the question in the site’s locally focused subreddit r/Phoenix every few months. The answers are almost always the same: The Valley’s population is too widespread, too old and unwilling to go out too late. Coupled with staffing and financial crunches spawned by the pandemic affecting the nightlife industry, the result is a city where people sleep on after-hours action. ‘Sprawl is the antithesis of late-night’ For the record, there’s life after last call in the Valley, albeit in extremely small doses and scattered across the Valley sprawl. There are a handful of strip clubs, pizzerias and late-night hookah joints open until 4 a.m. or later. For those in the know, off-the- radar house shows, raves and warehouse parties happen almost every weekend. And local casinos are always available 24/7. Such scattershot after-hours options speak to the Valley’s lack of urban density, which Stephen Chilton, owner of The Rebel Lounge, says is the biggest issue facing Phoenix nightlife. “Phoenix is so spread out that you’re competing for people all over, which means Uber rides are much more expen- sive if they want to drink, making it more difficult for people who want to go out late at night. Without decent public transit, if you’re trying to come downtown from Chandler, it doesn’t seem worth it on a regular Tuesday,” he says. “Late-night cities have a lot of density. In New York or Chicago, there’s density and it’s easier to get around.” Lanning agrees. “Sprawl is the antithesis of late-night [culture], so you’re going to see late-night make the most business sense in areas where there’s a lot of density,” she says. Cities like New York and Chicago also attract a younger crowd, who are more likely to seek out late-night thrills, Chilton says. “Those both are media-driven cities. There’s not a lot of entertainment-related or media-related businesses here, so there’s less young people here,” he says. “I think a lot of people move here after their 20s, so we’re disproportionately older than other major cities. We’re one of the oldest cities by population, so that’s going to affect it.” Rodney Hu, owner of Tempe’s Yucca Tap Room, experienced NYC’s late-night scene firsthand while living there in his 20s during the early 2000s. “There’s just so many different restau- rants and bars and even specific areas in Chinatown or other parts of Manhattan that would Street and McDowell Road is filled with color and movement during one of its High Energy After Hours sessions. As hip-hop and electronic dance tracks pulsate, vibrant lasers and spotlights illumi- nate young clubgoers of various ethnicities, sexual orientations and gender identities moving to the beat. The vibe is inclusive and the atmosphere is electric. The common denominator uniting this diverse crowd? Their mutual desire to go wild out on the dance floor until the wee hours. There’s no booze fueling the late-night fun at Karamba, as its bar only sells non- alcoholic drinks after 2 a.m. The setup hasn’t been a total buzzkill for patrons, as the club has been a desti- nation for post-last-call dancing for decades. “The previous owner had it when it was Boom, and it was an extremely popular era (for the club). Then it died off because the crowd moved on,” Martinez says. “So I came in with a completely different approach but kept (the after-hours).” Karamba is among a handful of Phoenix nightspots offering dancing after last call on weekends. A few miles west, Latin club DWNTWN and its neighbor The Grand stay open past 3 a.m. Meanwhile, on Camelback Road near Seventh Avenue, landmark gay bar Charlie’s keeps its dance floor hot until 4 a.m. Why don’t other local clubs and bars keep things going after turning off their taps at 2 a.m.? The lack of alcohol sales is the primary reason, but there are others, some tied to COVID-related issues: staffing shortages, the added expense of staying open longer hours and an overall lack of patrons late at night. Many of these same factors are why a vast majority of Valley restaurants, bars, coffeehouses, retailers and other busi- nesses don’t stay open past midnight, never mind the wee hours. Kimber Lanning, CEO and founder of community and economic development nonprofit Local First Arizona, says that’s why Phoenix isn’t considered to be a Valley nightlife has come a long way from the days when Phoenix’s downtown became a ghost town after 6 p.m. and locals joked about cities rolling up their sidewalks after dark. There are now nightlife hubs like Roosevelt Row, Mill Avenue in Tempe and Scottsdale’s entertainment district. But there’s still room for improve- ment, especially with the Valley’s post-2 a.m. landscape. These days, locals can grab dinner and drinks at a majority of eateries or brew- eries until 10 or 11 p.m. As things get later, though, options decrease dramatically. After midnight, most upscale spots close. By 1 a.m., the vast majority of restaurants still open are of the drive-thru or Denny’s variety. When last call hits, bars and clubs goes dark. Things are better on Fridays and Saturdays, as many nightspots cater to weekend crowds by staying open until 2 a.m. After that, though, local night owls searching for a decent cup of coffee after- hours or eats that don’t involve a combo meal are often left to wonder, “Why isn’t Phoenix more of the late-night city?” It’s a topic that’s been widely discussed in social media circles by insomniacs, third-shifters and 24-hour party people on the regular. On Reddit, users ask variations of the question in the site’s locally focused subreddit r/Phoenix every few months. The answers are almost always the same: The Valley’s population is too widespread, too old and unwilling to go out too late. Coupled with staffing and financial crunches spawned by the pandemic affecting the nightlife industry, the result is a city where people sleep on after-hours action. There are a handful of strip clubs, pizzerias and late-night hookah joints open until 4 a.m. or later. For those in the know, off-the- radar house shows, raves and warehouse parties happen almost every weekend. And local casinos are always available 24/7. Such scattershot after-hours options speak to the Valley’s lack of urban density, which Stephen Chilton, owner of The Rebel Lounge, says is the biggest issue facing Phoenix nightlife. “Phoenix is so spread out that you’re competing for people all over, which means Uber rides are much more expen- sive if they want to drink, making it more difficult for people who want to go out late at night. Without decent public transit, if you’re trying to come downtown from Chandler, it doesn’t seem worth it on a regular Tuesday,” he says. “Late-night cities have a lot of density. In New York or Chicago, there’s density and it’s easier to get around.” Lanning agrees. “Sprawl is the antithesis of late-night [culture], so you’re going to see late-night make the most business sense in areas where there’s a lot of density,” she says. Cities like New York and Chicago also attract a younger crowd, who are more likely to seek out late-night thrills, Chilton says. “Those both are media-driven cities. There’s not a lot of entertainment-related or media-related businesses here, so there’s less young people here,” he says. “I think a lot of people move here after their 20s, so we’re disproportionately older than other major cities. We’re one of the oldest cities by population, so that’s going to affect it.” Rodney Hu, owner of Tempe’s Yucca Tap Room, experienced NYC’s late-night scene firsthand while living there in his 20s during the early 2000s. “There’s just so many different restau- rants and bars and even specific areas in Chinatown or other parts of Manhattan that would Can Phoenix nightlife overcome Valley sprawl, COVID hangover and staffing challenges to become more than a late-night buzzkill? BY BENJAMIN LEATHERMAN THE LATE SHOW >> p 12
