Heard walking from my car to The Waiting Room Friday night: Voices and laughter coming from every direction, almost as if there was a street festival going on. Looking down Maple or that cross-street that runs by Jake’s lounge — people were standing around on the sidewalks, smoking. It was the first weekend without cigarettes, and the effect was to create a sort of camaraderie. Smokers are a jolly bunch. And the weather was terrific. If it could only be that nice outside all year ’round… but it won’t be.

The smoking ban certainly didn’t impact the draw at TWR — it was packed with hippie-folk and middle-aged suburbanites for Satchel Grande — a band I never figured for having a hippie fan base. Nothing wrong with hippies — at least they like to dance and have a good time — which is a stark contrast to the typical slump-shouldered, intense indie crowd I’m used to seeing. SG has emerged as the city’s best all-around party band fueled by their own hot original disco-funk songs — it’s hard to not have fun at one of their shows, unless you get slapped in the face by some guy’s nasty dreads.

Without smoke, TWR smelled like a hotel room that recently went non-smoking — a strange musk of detergent, nicotine and dirty orange peels. It’s going to take time to air out the place.

So how does O’Leaver’s smell? I intend to find out tonight when Brimstone Howl plays, along with Fontana. $5, 9:30 p.m. Meanwhile, over at The Waiting Room, it’s the maniacal metal of Bloodcow with Back When, The Clincher and North Carolina’s Black Skies. $7, 9 p.m.

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