In 2003, a low-budget music video featuring Abraham Lincoln lookalikes and glowing codpieces basically broke the early internet. It was frantic. It was absurd. It was "Gay Bar" by Electric Six. If you were around then, you probably remember the sheer confusion of hearing Dick Valentine’s manic vocals screaming about starting a war at the nuclear substation. People didn't know if it was a joke, a political statement, or just a really catchy excuse to dance.
Even now, decades after its release, the phrase I want to take you to a gay bar remains one of the most recognizable hooks in indie rock history. It’s a song that somehow bridges the gap between high-concept satire and total, unadulterated nonsense.
The story of how this track went from a Detroit basement to the top of the UK charts involves a lot of sweat, some very strange censorship, and a band that refused to take themselves seriously even when the world started paying attention. It’s not just about a catchy riff. It’s about a specific moment in the early 2000s when rock music was allowed to be incredibly stupid and incredibly smart at the exact same time.
The Detroit Garage Scene and the Birth of a Hit
Before they were Electric Six, they were The Wildbunch. Detroit in the late 90s was a pressure cooker for raw, unpolished garage rock. While The White Stripes were leaning into the bluesy, minimalist aesthetic, The Wildbunch were doing something much weirder. They were mixing disco, metal, and punk into a cocktail that smelled like cheap beer and irony.
Dick Valentine, the frontman, has always been pretty upfront about his songwriting process. He wasn't trying to write an anthem for social change. Honestly, he was just trying to write something that sounded good in a crowded, sweaty club. When the band recorded the track that would eventually feature the iconic line I want to take you to a gay bar, they were playing to small crowds who appreciated the campy, over-the-top energy.
The song actually sat around for a bit. It was originally released as a single in 2001 on a small label before being re-recorded for their debut album, Fire. By the time 2003 rolled around, the UK music press—always hungry for the next big "Detroit sound" thing—latched onto it. It hit number five on the UK Singles Chart. That’s wild when you think about it. A song with lyrics that basically make zero sense was competing with manufactured pop stars on the BBC.
The Controversy You Probably Forgot
It’s easy to forget how different the media landscape was in 2003. When Electric Six brought I want to take you to a gay bar to mainstream radio, they ran into a wall of panic. But it wasn't the "gay" part that scared the censors. It was the "war" part.
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The United States had just invaded Iraq.
Suddenly, lines like "Let's start a war, start a nuclear war" were deemed too sensitive for the airwaves. In the clean radio edit, the word "war" was often replaced with "nuclear" or just blurred out entirely. Think about that irony for a second. In an effort to be politically correct during a time of international conflict, the censors made a song about a gay bar sound even more chaotic and confusing.
There were also, predictably, some debates about whether the song was offensive. Was it mocking queer culture? Was it appropriating it?
Most people in the LGBTQ+ community at the time saw it for what it was: a high-camp celebration of absurdity. The video, directed by Tom Kuntz and Mike Maguire, didn't feature actual gay bars. Instead, it showed a series of Abraham Lincolns in a cabin. It was so far removed from reality that it was hard to find a foothold for genuine outrage. It was just... Electric Six.
Why the Riff Still Works
Musically, the song is a masterclass in simplicity. You’ve got a driving, four-on-the-floor beat that owes more to Donna Summer than to Led Zeppelin. Then there’s the guitar. It’s a jagged, repetitive line that digs into your brain and stays there.
- It uses a standard verse-chorus-verse structure but keeps the energy pinned at 11.
- The vocal delivery is breathless. Valentine sounds like he's having a minor heart attack.
- The breakdown at the "nuclear war" section provides a brief moment of tension before slamming back into the hook.
It’s the kind of song that works at a wedding, a dive bar, or a stadium. It’s universal because it’s so specific. By the time the final "I've got something to put in you" refrain hits, the audience is usually too busy jumping around to worry about the subtext.
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Life After the "Gay Bar"
Electric Six is often unfairly labeled a one-hit wonder (or a two-hit wonder, if you count "Danger! High Voltage"). That’s a mistake. Since Fire, they’ve released almost an album a year. They are one of the hardest-working touring bands in the business.
They know that a huge chunk of the audience is there to hear I want to take you to a gay bar. They don’t resent it. Dick Valentine has often joked in interviews that the song paid for his house, or at least a very nice car. There’s a blue-collar work ethic to the band that is very "Detroit." They turn up, they play the hits, they play the deep cuts for the die-hards, and they leave everyone exhausted.
The song has evolved over time. In live performances, it’s often extended into a long, improvisational jam. It’s become a piece of performance art rather than just a 2-minute radio single.
The Cultural Impact of 2000s Camp
We don't talk enough about the specific brand of "ironic rock" that peaked in the early 2000s. You had bands like The Darkness and Electric Six who were leaning into the ridiculousness of rock stardom. They were a reaction to the self-seriousness of late-90s post-grunge.
I want to take you to a gay bar represents the peak of that era. It was a middle finger to the idea that music had to be "important" to be good. Sometimes, the most important thing a song can do is make you laugh while you're dancing.
Misconceptions and Facts
People often get the lyrics wrong. No, he’s not saying "I want to take you to the K-Bar." It’s definitely "Gay Bar."
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Another common myth is that the song was written as a parody of a specific club in Detroit. While the city has a rich history of underground queer spaces like Menjo's or The Temple, Valentine has clarified that the song was more of a general vibe check on the concept of "going out" rather than a tribute to a specific location.
Also, the Abraham Lincoln thing in the video? There’s no deep historical meaning there. The directors just thought it would look funny. Sometimes the curtain is pulled back and there's nothing behind it but more glitter and a fake mustache.
How to Appreciate the Track Today
If you're revisiting the song or showing it to someone who missed the 2003 hype cycle, don't look for the "message." Look for the tension. The song is built on a nervous energy that perfectly captured the pre-social media age.
- Listen to the original 2001 demo if you can find it. It's even rawer and faster.
- Watch the "Fire" version of the music video on a big screen. The costume design is legitimately impressive for the budget.
- Check out their live album, Absolute Pleasure. It shows how the song has morphed into a different beast entirely when played in front of a crowd.
Actionable Steps for the Modern Listener
To truly get the most out of the Electric Six experience, you need to go beyond the singles. Start by listening to the full Fire album from start to finish. It’s a cohesive piece of work that contextualizes their humor.
Next, look up their touring schedule. They tour constantly across the US and Europe. Seeing them live is the only way to understand the cult following they’ve maintained for over twenty years.
Finally, don't be afraid of the "irony." In a world where every artist is trying to be deeply "authentic" and "vulnerable," there is something incredibly refreshing about a band that just wants to take you to a gay bar and scream about nuclear war. It’s authentic in its own weird way.
Stop overanalyzing your playlist and let the absurdity take over. The riff is still good. The lyrics are still weird. And the world is still a nuclear substation.