Feline Fine on the Strip

Dang, homey, the Strip’s just getting so cool these days. Sometimes, it gets boring listening to fogies pontificate on how exciting the famed stretch of Sunset Boulevard was in the ‘60s, as if nothing has happened since Jim Morrison last puked at a bar. Well, let’s see, there were punk, glam, metal and alternative rock movements. In all fairness, though, there was a recent lull in action, but no mas.

From the House of Blues to Fenix, from Sky Bar to Standard, from Dublin’s to 02, from the Viper to North, Strip devotees are having a good old time. Now, let’s stumble past the Whisky for a minute and see what else we can find: Lo and behold, there’s a brand new bar where Sneaky Pete’s used to be (very possibly the last place Jim Morrison did vomit stateside). It’s called the Cat Club and it’s a dreamy new ode to rock ‘n’ roll living at its finest.

The 2-week-old bar is open from 6 p.m. to 3 a.m. every night, and its owner-creators are Slim Jim Phantom, drummer for the Stray Cats and owner of Hollywood’s former Diamond Club; Steve Scarduzio, who ran the Diamond Club with Phantom as well as numerous other rock joints; D.K., a 22-year veteran of the club promotion biz who has had a lock on Wednesday nights for the last decade; and Sean Tuttle, the grandson of Mario Maglieri, the guy who owns the Strip--or at least the Whisky, the Roxy and the Rainbow properties.

Just how much more rock ‘n’ roll can you get? What makes this such a smart endeavor is location, location, location. For years, the night life set has needed an intimate place to hook up before shows. A place with no cover charge and no drama getting in, from which patrons can easily skip off on foot to the next destination. Its position--tucked among the Whisky, the Roxy and the Rainbow, up the street from the Key Club and across the street from the Viper Room--is ideal.

Even better, however, is the fact that the owners didn’t botch any of the particulars. For starters, the club is probably darker than Three Clubs, with rows of slick black booths, and leopard print seats, leopard fixtures and detailing. Seems they were aiming for a simple, sexy voodoo lounge, and that’s precisely how the Cat Club feels. The bar is at the back of the first level, and there’s also a kitchen; sandwiches, sausage rolls and various other bar food mainstays are available. Upstairs, there’s a small, equally voodoo vibish room with an open pool table. You got it: The table’s free.

Like the other new gem on the Strip, the Coffee House, the Cat Club comes with one other nicety: parking. The venue shares a parking lot with the Whisky, and that’s a couple bucks you don’t want to quibble over. Between the parking lot and the building is a patio that is serving as smoking area after the neighboring shops close for the night. (Inevitably, it will be transformed into a back entrance once business gets too hectic.)

Although it has been open only a few days, those who have popped in may have witnessed Eddie Vedder shooting pool while Johnny Ramone and Dr. Dre chill. The partners created a place where they enjoy hanging out, and it’s already attracting those with like tastes. Such rock stars must enjoy the Cat Club’s music selection, which takes you from Johnny Cash to Johnny Thunders in an L.A. minute.

Friday night is the club’s official grand opening party (an event sponsored by Detour magazine), but those of you who want to check it out in the raw might want to stop in on a Monday, say about 8, and grab a cue. In 30 years you might be able to brag that you were there the last night fill in rock star’s name here puked in public.

BE THERE

The Cat Club, 8911 Sunset Blvd., West Hollywood, (310) 657-0888. 21 and older. No cover.