The heyday of Manhattan punk bars is long past: CBGB's and the old Max's Kansas City are distant legends, and even the Mars Bar succumbed to the unstoppable tide of gentrification this year. So where's a body to go for cheap beer and deafening three-chord stomps? The answer, inevitably, is Brooklyn, and Williamsburg's tiny, greasily atmospheric Trash Bar. The front room, furnished largely with worn La-Z-Boys and decorated with license plates, sports an ambience best described as gutter-swank. But it's the tiny stage and surprisingly good sound system crammed into the bare-bones back room that earn Trash Bar the title. Seven nights a week, local and touring bands—mostly of the hardcore and old-school-punk persuasions—get right up close to the audience and play fucking loud. There are a few seats torn out of old cars along the wall, but Trash Bar doesn't book the kind of music you sit down for. 256 Grand Street, Brooklyn, 718-599-1000, thetrashbar.com (11211)