Light a cigarette and step into a flashback of the ’80s punk scene from the moment you walk into Uncle Lou’s. The decor is deteriorating and covered with graffiti. There’s a small bar and there’s one line of benches along the back wall for seating. The rest is a scuffed-up, dirty open space where the best show pits break out, mostly because any band can play (seriously, just ask Lou). There’s no stage, so if you want to smash your drunk punk soul into the music or another person, there’s nothing stopping you. Except maybe Lou. (Don’t destroy his bar, man.) Don some boots and a black shirt and release your good-natured aggression in a sea of crust punks clutching $2.50 PBRs.