on cs’s, the mississippi punk dive of our dreams

I booked Alien Nosejob at CS’s on their US tour in 2023. It was so exciting—I’d been a fan of Alien Nosejob since its inception, and a fan of Jake Robertson’s other band, Ausmuteants, before that. We lucked out and caught them last-minute after a show in Nashville fell through, and I talked them into driving six hours south to play in Jackson. For a band from Melbourne to play a DIY show in Jackson, Mississippi felt so crazy to me. 

Jake played a high-energy set with Lumpy and the Dumpers as his backing band. I had butterflies in my stomach from seeing my favorite bands live, a symptom that gets rarer as I get older, and my friends and I danced them all out on the blue and orange linoleum tile in the dining room. Still Animals played the next set and brought the house down. Every once in a while the crowd and I came up to angle our sweating foreheads toward the window A/C unit working overtime in the corner.

We made sure the dusty beer cans from the ’80s stayed on their shelves. We ate burgers with the bands (a GCC for me - garlic cream cheese, jalapenos, and bacon), crunched on crinkle cut fries, and pointed out our favorite bumper stickers on the wood-paneled walls. As we packed up the instruments and speakers from the night’s festivities, some member of Still Animals, maybe Lee, said, “This place is crazy. Frozen in time. There aren’t really bars like this anymore.”

It’s true. How many bars still exist that haven’t been updated into steel-chaired grey brewhouses? Or worse, turned into corny music venues churning out bar rock for the masses? CS’s remains the same, more or less, as it was in its infancy in the 70s. The sign outside still says CS’s (no one can confirm what CS stands for), the mural on the side of the building still says “BEST BURGERS IN TOWN,” the walls inside are still covered by dark wood paneling, and it retains years of decor brought in by devoted patrons.

From floor to ceiling, the walls are covered in bumper stickers - cheeky classics like “GAS, GRASS, OR ASS—NO ONE RIDES FOR FREE,” political mementos like “BUSH/QUAYLE ‘92,” and tons of stickers from the bands who have played through the years. There are empty old beer cans stacked high on shelves, questionable-looking taxidermy, a wall of photos of customers who served in the Iraq war, leftover decorations from years of birthday parties and anniversary dinners. For a while, Pat even kept a special jukebox in the corner filled with local bands’ 45s. My friend JD (from Kicking and Borrowed Man) once said that CS’s “exists in every time and place, so there are off color jokes on the wall, next to heartfelt reminders of birthdays and retirement parties, but there’s never any maliciousness. Everyone is always invited.”

When it’s time for a punk show, we simply scoot tables and chairs to one end of the room, pile amps and gear on the church pew at the other end, and make a party happen in the middle. Pat’s niece added a color-changing disco bulb to the one light in the center of the room that we turn on when it’s rock time. Somebody sits by the door and takes cash for the bands. Pat holds court behind the bar and in the kitchen, cooking burgers and mozzarella sticks to inevitably be passed around the crowd. When the show is over, whatever band I booked always has the same fuzzy feeling I do—they always tell me what a fun show this was, what a cool bar CS’s is, we in Jackson are so lucky to have it. Some bands (like Flea Collar and Clementine Was Right) even come back to town asking to play CS’s. 

Really, Mr. Pat is the best part of CS’s. He’s 73 years old and has been working in the building since he was a teenager. First when it was a grocery store in his neighborhood, then when he bought it and turned it into CS’s. He’s the kind of guy everyone loves— medical students and politicians eat blue plate lunch at CS’s during the day, party animals and punks drink beer at shows during the night. It’s a neighborhood favorite in Midtown Jackson, absolutely beloved by anyone who lives within walking distance.

Mr. Pat acts as caring friend to anyone who walks through the door. My friend Vic (from DBL TAKE) once told me that Pat is a “little bit magic,” and she’s right. He never forgets anyone’s name, he’s always happy to see you, he will tell every band what a great set they played even when their work is clearly not his speed. At almost every CS’s show I’ve booked in the last couple of years, Pat always finds me once the party is in full swing and does an amazed shake of his head. “How do you do it? How do you bring all these people out?” I don’t get to go to a lot of punk shows where the vibes are so warm and fuzzy.

The beautiful thing about CS’s is that everyone feels like it’s their personal home. The college kids across the street, the senators downtown, the punks at midnight, everyone has a special memory of partying with Pat. CS’s is the best venue in town because it’s where everyone could be your friend.