Sister Ray

They’re naming bars after unlistenable 17-minute avant-noise jams now? Taking its title from the closing track of The Velvet Underground’s really-quite-good 1968 White Light/White Heat album, you’ll find Sister Ray on Liverpool’s Wolstenholme Square, where it’s been open around a year now. 

We visit on a blazingly sunny day when one of the city’s football teams wins some trophy or other, so the vibe around town is upbeat and cheery. Slightly different from the original story of the song, which, according to songwriter Lou Reed, is about “a bunch of drag queens taking some sailors home with them, shooting up on smack and having this orgy when the police appear.”

No orgies here, not even a sailor – simply neat Nordic-style decor, high-grade coffee and a pleasant soundtrack of listenable alternative tracks, chosen by that day’s friendly bar staff. The soundsystem and DJ setup is one of the best around – big warm sound that fills the space without dominating, and high-end vinyl decks. 

It has the faint whiff of an audiophile’s kind of space, without the pomposity that normally goes with that. Plus there’s a nice line-up of deepcut-digging DJs most weekends, from Liverpool and nearby cities. 

It’s a great spot to drop in for a daytime drink. There’s outside seating that soaks up the sun, and toweringly high ceilings inside so it never feels dingey or cramped. Lou would most certainly not approve. 

The cocktail menu is short but well-constructed. Four sections (Sours & Daisies; Martinis & Manhattans; Old-Fashioneds & Milk Punches; and Highballs), each with four nicely original concoctions, and the whole thing gets rebooted every couple of months. 

Essentially, Sister Ray is exactly what an independent bar should be. Unorthodox and original, without feeling the need to shout about it, and refreshingly free from the constraints of corporate KPIs. All very commendable, all very Liverpool.