Friday and Saturday nights were always utter hell behind the bar. One of the local bands—drum kit, two guitars, vocalist, maybe a horn of some kind—would set up in the corner of the bar and play. Every band played the same thing: covers of oldies (Beatles, Chuck Berry) mixed with covers of more contemporary stuff (The Steve Miller Band, Bryan Adams). The bands played their fast songs to get people dancing, and most importantly, drinking. But they’d also pepper their setlists with slow songs, so that the horny, old drunks could pair off and sway together, enjoying their sloppy, public…