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It’s always a party at this whiskey-fueled Lincoln Park legend.

The essentials: Delilah’s
2771 N. Lincoln Ave. 773-472-2771

Looks like: A whiskey hoarder’s living room disguised as a dive bar
Smells like: A curious concoction of brown spirits
Sounds like: During the week, whatever the DJ is spinning—count on some kind of punk rock, metal, roots and rockabilly, interpretive R&B or rock ‘n’ roll. On most Friday and Saturdays, guests pick from the jukebox, curated to whatever the theme of the month is.

Some people would call Delilah’s a whiskey bar. Or a punk rock bar. Or a punk rock-whiskey bar. But to owner Mike Miller, it’s an outlet to pursue the things he loves.

It’s an art gallery, for both the visual artists whose work is displayed on the walls and those of the musical persuasion spinning the genre du jour. It’s a quirky cinema on free movie nights, stemming from Miller’s time in film school. It’s a place for him to store and share his vintage beer collection and host a beer festival or five.

Not even 10 p.m. on a recent Friday night and the party was in full swing, fueled by an energetic bunch, younger and older, chatting and dancing in the dimly lit tavern. I moved toward an empty bar stool covered in black duct tape holding the upholstery together. Not that I had a moment to sit down. I wasn’t in the door more than five minutes before a whiskey-soaked patron sauntered over and asked me to dance.

“We throw a unique party every day, and we have for 21 years,” Miller said. Miller, who was DJ-ing that night, happened to step over to the bar as I was approaching. He was more than happy to pour me an old fashioned, and even happier when I asked him to make it with Old Overholt.

Unlike some whiskey bars, the Delilah’s staff isn’t pretentious about its impressive selection—666 options, to be exact. There isn’t an artfully designed menu cataloging the bourbons and whiskeys from around the world in a cavalier script font with “small-batch” this or “micro-” that. Just a binder listing the offerings on plain white printer paper in plastic sleeves. “We aren’t a whiskey bar,” Miller said. “We’re a bar that serves a lot of whiskey.” And a hefty selection of beer, tequila, rum and 25 kinds of absinthe (including Delilah’s very own offering). It’s a rough-around-the-edges joint with a bubbly atmosphere, much like the guy who opened it nearly 22 years ago.

Not much has changed in those two decades, including the fliers on the tables advertising the bar’s theme nights. Seemingly catering to every phase I went through in high school, there’s ska and reggae every last Thursday of the month, Metal Shop Tuesdays and, of course, Punk Rock Mondays (the flier for which Miller designed himself 21 years ago using letters he cut out of a Weekly World News).

Some funky technotrash art drew me up the stairs to the second-floor bar, which feels like a cozy basement with a pool table and an AC/DC pinball machine. All the feel-good atmosphere is missing is a skunky cloud lingering around the low-hanging ceilings. Unlike the local art and beer memorabilia covering the downstairs room, here a massive mural portrays a galactic scene of curious creatures: a gaggle of cyclops, teddy bears and large-breasted alien ladies. It’s the same Tom Billings mural that’s lived on those walls since the bar opened, the same mural that Billings painted over and repainted identically for Delilah’s 19th anniversary in 2012.

As first glance, Delilah’s easily could be dismissed as a gritty dive exclusively for the “I heart Mom”-tattooed crew. And those certainly can be found there, right next to the clean-cut after-work crowd, regulars in jean jackets with hand-sewn patches, hipsters venturing from their Northwest Side confines and older dudes having a solo drink at the bar. The bar shelves are at maximum capacity and the party keeps going. “People come here for 21 years, and they never outgrow it,” Miller said. “They grow into it.”

Reporters visit bars unannounced and drinks are paid for by RedEye. hschroering@redeyechicago.com | @redeyeeatdrink