Medusa Lounge

Small setting, fantastic DJ playing that night. Definitely more of the obscure/​hipster music, rather than top 100’s. Getting into the venue is pretty fun too, as it looks like a single tiny shack from the outside and then you go down a flight of stairs.

To the people who took my friends coat — it may seem like not a big deal to grab a coat as you’re leaving. But you clearly don’t have $ 40 to buy a coat. You’re poor. And you steal from others. You’re clearly dumb. My friend Lost her Keys to her $ 20,000 car in your pocket. Never coming here again.

«Holy. Fucking. Shit.»
You will say this 100 times while you’re here.
You will say it when you see how much it costs for a shot and a beer ($ 4).
You will say it when you see the male to female ratio (roughly a million to one).
You will say it when you hear how unbelievably, irrationally good the DJ is.
You will say it when you walk into the bathroom and realize it is the dirtiest bathroom in all of Philadelphia, and seriously, I’ve seen someone shit in a urinal before.
You will say it even louder when you go back and realize that someone tried to glue the toilet seat back to the toilet with liquid fucking feces.
You will say it after blacking out and throwing up outside with no consequences whatsoever.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Interesting dive bar. Which I like. I’m rating it based on it being a DIVE BAR! This place is NOT classy so don’t come here and then be pissed that you’re not at a classy bar. You walk down into the basement to go inside and enter a basement covered in artwork with writing and $ 1 billions on the ceiling. There are some bar tables with stools, a dj, people dancing crazy on the floor. What’s not to like?
The music was iffy. As we entered there was good music but as the hour went on it quickly changed to techno. We disco’ed it up and had a good time.

Ah yeah lets get weird! Medusa is like nothing else in Philly. If you want to experience some shiz Medusa is your place. You can see the white man in his natural habitat dancing to house music and hitting on any girl with a pulse. If your into cheap drinks and people watching this is the place for you. So good luck and I’ll see you on the dance floor.

This place was so, so sketchy. My friends and I couldn’t get out soon enough. There was one random guy dancing in the middle of the very small and dark room; I’ve never seen moves like that.

I’m not much of a dancer. I love music, but usually I’d rather just observe, watch others. You’re more likely to find me at a show with a band than with a DJ. My musical choices, while they include lots of electronic, rarely include much pop, R&B or hip-​hop. Combine that with my age (over 30 is all you need to know), and it becomes difficult to find a place that will appeal both to my dancing friends and me. So I don’t really go to clubs that often. My very rare appearances in Old City clubs have all left me filled hatred — of the owners, the DJs, the other patrons, and myself.
If you are 20-​something chick, neglect to wear a jacket while going out in 20 degree weather while wearing short skirts, drink Red Bull and Jäger or vodka, regular wear matching a velour tracksuit (particularly if it says «Juicy» on the ass, which really sounds like a digestive problem you should see a doctor about), or if you’re a guy with gel filled hair that loves these chicks, and if you love Rihanna and Lady Gaga — my review isn’t for you. Hey, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with those things (well, besides the juicy ass), just that you and I don’t share interests, and this is good to know up front.
So with that out of the way — Medusa is a good blend of what I like, what I’ll tolerate, and what my dancing friends like/​tolerate. Small underground dive bar, dark, decent electronic music that, at least when I’ve been there, didn’t have a hint of Britney, small dance area, places to sit while watching friends, no cover, sub-​par bathroom, and comfortable enough that I don’t feel too uncomfortable when I do get up to dance. So while I wouldn’t pick this place if I were on my own (I wouldn’t pick any club if I were on my own), Medusa’s a decent compromise.

«I want to go dance,» Huxley said through drunken lips and swaying hips. «Where can we dance?»
LC twisted a contemplative sneer. She looked over to Beau and asked, «Medusa?» Beau nodded.
«Medusa?» I repeated.“That sounds about right.“
So, this Medusa place… not quite a bar, not quite a club, and ‘dive’ wouldn’t really cover it. Medusa is a 400 square foot underground sweat box with a warped red counter that could be construed as a bar, a complete absence of light, something sticky, something not so sticky, and a black-​tiled ceiling low enough that you can palm it with your elbows still heavily bent. In short, it’s exactly the place you want to go, drunkenly, at 1am, with a girl who you want desperately to be your girlfriend but who may or may not absolutely hate you.
We’d been drinking, literally, since 9am. So I was proud that Huxley and I were still ambulant, let alone danceable. Our little crew had swelled to seven since we left Sugar Mom’s; we stumbled, shoulders and hips bumping and sloshing, down the narrow steps to this smoky oubliette. It took me a moment to adjust to what was happening: wall-​to-​wall sea of humanity, bodies thrashing and grinding, some kids with glow sticks, some hipsters in tight sweaters, some mod dudes with inventive facial hair and ironic tattoos, and I’m pretty sure I noticed a couple kids not-​so-​discreetly taking bumps from their pocket bullets. Cool.
I elbowed through the nebula of horny dysfunctionals and found my way to the ‘bar’. This skyscraper of a Nubian queen rolled up, shoulders round and high, hair short and cropped, neck rising like a flagpole… She leaned down, dark cleavage spilling proud, and asked me what I was having. I hadn’t really prepared, so I just defaulted to what made sense: «Seven Jäger Bombs, please ma’am.»
She just stared at me. «Sugar, we don’t have Red Bull.»
«Oh… well then just give me seven Jäger shots and a dozen Yuenglings.»
For some reason, in my condition, twelve beers seemed the appropriate amount for seven people. My Nubian queen accommodated.
As the shots lined up, some of our posse got squeamish. LC and Huxley abstained, but the men rose to the occasion. I went ahead and had two, because I needed it. LC and Huxley had gone off over on the far left of the dancefloor, and started lightly grooving next to a couple of scuzzy barstools there. They still had their purses and coats. I went over and shrugged their jackets from each of their shoulders and folded them over my arm. I then took their handbags, lifted them up above my head, and brought their straps down around the barrel of my chest, wearing them tight across me like a bandolier. I figured if a purse were to be lost or stolen this night, it’d be on me. I fought back through the crowd toward the door and tucked their coats into the pile inside the little window vestibule there. I worked my way back.
The noise was intense. Not quite sure what exactly I was listening to, but it had an identifiable beat. There was a DJ at the back that I couldn’t quite see. He was lost in a little bucket of soft red light behind his turntable tray. I tried to suss the bass out from all the clatter.
Hux was still kind of ignoring me. She’d never told me what I’d done to upset her. So, I just danced with LC. I’m typically not especially comfortable actually dancing around people I don’t know; six and a half foot tall white guys aren’t renowned for their gracefulness. But, when the situation calls for it, I can bust up a pretty good goofy groove. And this situation certainly called for it. I got in with LC and we got high into it; hands on back of our heads, elbows sprinkling the room, knees high, heels tapping, shoulders dipping and diving, chins aswirl, smiles wide, and eyes like neon bombs. «I like your moves!» she said to me. «Ditto!»
LC’s beau, Beau, was leaning up at the edge of the bar watching us. I caught his eye and gestured for him to come over. He shook his head. I shrugged. I just wanted the guy to know I wasn’t moving on his girl; I was just trying to make mine jealous. It worked.
Hux moved in and claimed what was hers. She wedged between LC and me and forced me back deeper into the center of the dancefloor. She collapsed and ebbed against me, drooped into my chest and stomach and just started writhing and edging with the indecipherable DJ’s danceclub beats like a petulant pendulum. She was mad, but she was wild. She turned her back to me, pressed her ass into me, and started grinding and pawing, sometimes playful, sometimes captious. She let her spastically dangling hands wander across my crotch in little flitters. I spun her around before I lost my mind. «Are you just screwing with me right now?» I asked.
She reached up, put her hands behind my ears, gripped me by the back of the neck, pulled me down to her, and kissed me like a freakin’ steam engine.
I looked up to see LC staring at us. She gave me an ‘attaboy’ wink. I stuck out my tongue and shouted to her:
«MEDUSA!!!»

I’ve walked by this spot several times in the past two years and never thought much of it, but when friends wanted to go there I knew exactly where it was! The giant blue wall with the arrow pointing to MEDUSA LOUNGE makes it memorable.
I went to this venue to see some friends’ friends DJ and I was told that there would be dancing. Sweet. So we go downstairs and see that it looks like someone’s basement with a bar extension and 2 grungy bathrooms. It has a bit of a hipster feel to it all, but that may have just been the plethora of hip-​looking individuals getting their dance on. I joined in and for the most part people didn’t bump into you, which I appreciate (compared to TigerBeats and 700Club hipster danceparties) so it was good.
People say this is the worst bathroom in Philly… and I would be inclined to say it’s definitely up there. The toilet seat was on the floor and it was pretty foul. It ain’t pretty, but they aren’t clogged and that’s something.
Drinks are cheap and I’m 99% sure they don’t have food since someone delivered a pizza and was eating it on the bar. I checked in on Unilocal and got some sort of special, so thanks for that! I’m not entirely sure if I would return to this place with a cover or if I didn’t have friends specifically going there.

Medusa Lounge is a dark basement with no cover charge, graffiti, dancey electronic music, and drink specials, which pretty much means that it’s awesome.
I’ll definitely come back in the future for some more of their $ 5 city special — miller high life (the champagne of beer) and shot.

Hipster central. Awful techno music with no vocals or any sort of build (and I actually do like electronic dance music normally.) It’s quite literally a basement. I guess the graffiti-​ed walls and ceiling are kind of cool, but I kept looking around expecting to see a rat. They actually ran out of several of the drinks that were on special, even though it wasn’t really packed.
That said, my friends and I had a great time, but it had pretty much nothing to do with what Medusa actually has to offer.

A divey dance party with cheap drinks, low ceilings, dirty floors, and GREAT music! Better yet, no bumpin and grindin from strangers, and better, better yet, a hip young crowd that is friendly and low key. This is not for bros and hos, my friends, but it is for hipsters and their Pabst counterparts.

If I could give this place no stars, I would.
The drinks are cheap, but there is a lousy beer selection. The atmosphere is dank and uncomfortable. The bathroom is outright terrifying.
If you are an electronic music fan or a freshly-​21 party animal, you may groove on this place. But you’ll never see me there.

Kind of punk rockish style place complete with an incredibly nasty bathroom and a generally unclean dive bar feel. At 1130 on a saturday night there were literally 3 customers here when i walked in, a lonely bartender and a dj playing electonic music. I did not stay long they need to some marketing i go to bars to be around other people not to hear crickets

I almost got kidnapped by a really ugly lesbian. WHY does that always happen to me?
drinks were cheap – a shot of jäger was just $ 4! I was a little on edge about contracting something in such a filthy, cramped space, but a couple of cheap drinks made it better.

This place never disappoints.
Yes, it’s a dive and yes, the bathrooms are disgusting, but something’s gotta give when the music’s great and the drinks are dirt cheap.
Love the bartender with the sleeve of octopus tattoos embedded with jewels in the eyes. She’s awesome, friendly, attentive, and knows how to make a drink. When I ordered a whiskey sour and they were out of sour mix, she concocted something for me that tasted pretty close, so that was nice.
The PBR and a shot of whiskey for $ 4…$ 5? I forget how much it is, but it’s worth it if you wanna get a nice buzz going without emptying your wallet.
It gets super crowded closer to 12:30ish on Fridays and Saturdays but again, you can’t complain.
It’s a Philly dive, people. Deal with it. If you want clean bathrooms, waste your money somewhere in Old City.

If you walk to the entrance (basically a shack where the door is underground) and are expecting anything other than the most dive-​iest of dive bars — turn around, this place aint for you. If you’re like me and you love dive bars, especially ones where you can dance your ass off in the dark with graffiti-​covered walls, then do come in. (But not too many of you, I beg.)
This place is awesome. The bathrooms never lock, there is never toilet paper, the floor is completely sticky … (these are all good things?) … and the drinks are cheap and the music is sick! Hands down some of the best DJ’s I’ve heard in Philly. It is becoming a bit more hipster as a previous Unilocaler eluded to, but they still blast some awesome hip hop if you catch it on the right night. I’m not sure when that is, because Medusa does its own thing. Sometimes there’s a cover, sometimes it’s techno-​electronica music, but it’s always fun. You never know what you’re gonna get, and that, my friends, is what keeps me going back time after time after drunken time after… wait how many times have I been here?

This place is like a mini 700 club
Small, dark, dank and it kind of smells. No cover. Citywide special. Really good music. Small, very crowded dance floor.
$ 2 PBR if you’re tired of whiskey. I think I’ll come back here for my dancing fix.

When I’m not pounding specials at Bob n Barbara’s, I’m grinding it up against Philly’s finest in the rathskeller that is Medusa. It’s a dive but those are the best and it’s in Center City, which amid its neighboring posh and refined establishments, Medusa’s a godsend.
It’s always a friendly crowd and the only bar in this area where you’d likely find the alternative folk. It often features a famous array of my favorite local DJs and when you’re in the mood for a sweaty, crowded and deliciously filthy dance floor, Medusa is like none other.

I’m beyond tempted to give Medusa’s 5 stars because of it’s incredible dancing nights, friendly bartenders, and dive bar vibe. But at the same time I can’t because it has the atmosphere and ventilation of a cramped hot basement with shitty bathrooms.
But Holy Hell can it be fun. when we went here to kill a final hour dancing during our fourth of July festivities we were treated to some incredible music courtesy of Hurrah DJ’s. And you best believe that they had me saying Hurrah thanks to the old school Sneaker Pimps, Daft Punk, and then some that they played. And even though we hardly danced for an hour it was so action packed that it felt like we were going longer.
toss in the crazy Medusa themed graffiti on the wall, the drink specials, no cover charge, and great DJ nights that featuring the likes of DJJC, Philadelphyinz, and Then some, and for a weird place Medusa’s is on point!