Dr. Feelgood's - Paris

Paris. Ah, oui, Paris. “The City of Love”, and you know what? I did love it.

Lets take a moment to note, I speak zero French, and I mean, ZERO French, even though I live in Canada (another story for another day), and we’re supposed to be a bilingual country; we’re not. Unless Alberta considers “redneck” as their language then sure, at a push you could say we’re bilingual. But back to Paris, honestly, gorgeous. I know full well it has a terrible reputation for people being rude and for the most part, they were. But that’s ok because 1) I speak literally nothing of their language and frankly, that’s just rude of me, but 2) I was happy to see them living up to their reputation. I landed at Charles De Gaulle Intl. hopped on a train and made my why to Notre Damn mostly because that’s the only place on the menu I sort of knew, everything else was literally French to me.

Before getting too lost in this saga, I had previously messaged a French glam revival band call BlackRain (deadly good, check them out), and asked them where the greasiest rock n roll bar in town was. The fellas were quick to reply and kind enough to point me in the direction of Dr. Feelgoods. I figured by the name and a quick Google search they ripped the title of the 2^nd best Crue record (1^st being Girls, Girls, Girls), so I was sure I was in with a shot.

Merci buckets for the hangover, but more on that in a moment.

I walked through Paris stopping at all the usual spots, Eiffel Tower, Arc De Triomphe, Louve, every patio café, and every record store I could find. One thing I’ll say right away is that the cigarette industry is alive and well in France, the Frogs love a durry. After a day or drinking espresso, eating duck confit, and getting lung cancer from the second-hand smoke, I oozed my way into Dr. Feelgood’s. Again, please bear in mind I speak zero French, but in the worst google translated, broken French, I managed to get as blind as a welder’s dog. The bar itself is cleaner and a bit more “up market” than your traditional “dive bar”, but the tunes were cranked, the drinks were flowing and there is a 6’ tall stained-glass mural to the great man himself (Lemmy), so I found a bar stool, I was set.

At some point in the evening’s festivities there was an acoustic duo doing covers, and I must say Wonderwall is just as shit in French as it is in English. I love Oasis, but that one can fuck off. The walls are littered with memorabilia, Kerry Kings guitars, photos, old show flyers from every Tom, Dick, and Harry that came touring through France, you name it. Wallpaper in the dunnies was a nice touch as well, something of a mash up of Playboy meets Nightmare on Elm St.

It wasn’t a conventional dive bar in a sense, because like I say, it was more up market and a few too many suits, but I had such a good time, that after a second day of bumming around cafes, stealing their wifi for directions and again, eating an unhealthy amount of duck confit I went back for night #2. However, when I jumped in the taxi, the fella started driving through a different part of town. I knew I was flushed the night before, but I could have sworn it wasn’t this side of the Bastille. A left, then a right, I was thinking surely this can’t be right. Am I wrong? Was I that cooked last night? No way. Not me.

“You have arrived Misour”. So, I jumped out having paid the fella, only to find out there is a second Dr. Feelgoods! Same same, but different. This one can only be described somehow, as better in every way because this one IS the dive bar I was looking for. The only way I can describe the difference here is that this one is where the guys in bands go to smash pints and listen to Motorhead and the other one is where tourists and corporate big wigs in suits go after a long day of accomplishing bugger all, in “meetings”. Funny how corporate America takes over everywhere eh?

I walked into Dr Feelgoods #2 and was instantly met by some long-haired bloke in a Night Demon shirt, he twigged I was a tourist immediately and saved me the sheer embarrassment of my god-awful attempt at speaking his native tongue and spoke to me in English. Thanks pal! You spared the pair of us. He asked where I was from, I said England originally, but I live in Canada and we immediately bonded over our mutual love for Canadian metal bands such as Diemonds, Anvil, Annilator, Pilldriver and of course Skull Fist! I say of course Skull Fist because the moment we released our mutual love for them I dropped my draws and showed him my No False Metal tattoo on my ass. He loved it and we listened to Chasing the Dream front to back.

Feelgood’s #2 is basically everything you want in a dive bar, it’s dimly lit, plays loud music, mountains of décor and once theres more than 12 people in there, it’s as tight as a phone booth. I drank pints of something cold and wet all night, talking absolute bollocks to blokes in different bands and we all bonded over our love for the heaviest of metal. I should take a moment to give a shout out to old mate in the Night Demon shirt, he plays drums for a rock band called Sweet Needles, really solid record, has a little STP vibe to it. Very good listen.

I think we ended up shutting the bar down around 1am after copious amounts of lager, a few laughs and putting our Anglo-French differences aside while listening to mountains of hair metal.

Would highly recommend a cheeky visit.

6/6.