A night of karaoke and community in a pub that feels like a memory.

You’d barely even notice it, unless you knew to look. Tucked away behind a liquor store on busy Constable Street is the capital’s last great pub.

Newtown Sports Bar is an emblem of the pub culture that’s prevailed nationwide for almost two centuries. It’s one of the finest establishments Wellington has to offer. It serves as a beacon for what once was, and what still can be. Technically, the name has been changed to Barrel Brothers, but no one calls it that. The moniker and legacy of Newtown Sports Bar prevails.

Wellington prides itself on its vibrant hospitality scene. There is no shortage of bars and restaurants available at our fingertips. But these don’t serve the same purpose as the mighty local pub. The local pub is Ol’ Faithful, a reliable establishment that never seems to change, providing a level of consistency in uncertain times. You can go there at any given time, on any given day, and be greeted by reasonably priced beer, fried food, and one or two punters who look like part of the furniture. Newtown Sports Bar embodies these qualities with a smile and a wink. It knows exactly what it is and doesn’t pretend to be anything else, which only adds to its charm.

When you arrive, you’re greeted by rugby post made of PVC pipes. It’s a relic from the 1987 World Cup that remains untouched to this day. Tui posters with slogans like “I’ll come home after the game” and “I’m really keen to see your mother again” are scattered across the exposed brick walls, juxtaposed with an inspirational poster about success hanging near the women’s bathroom. Low hanging lights dangling above the pool tables like a set piece from a David Lynch film provide some of the only light across the whole space. Small screens showing the Warriors game are littered near the pokies room. A claw machine offers knock-off Minions and Among Us plushies.

The barman, Harry, is elusive, constantly dipping into the back room to do God-knows-what. But he’ll always greet you with a smile as you get a 745ml Lion Brown for a mere $12. Despite a supposed rebrand, the posters and signage around the pub still proudly say Newtown Sports Bar. The decor hasn’t been changed for years. It’s part of what made Harry want to work here. “There aren’t many restrictions,” he tells me, “it’s more chill, y’know”.

At first, it can seem like a cold and uninviting place, but that changes quickly. “It reminds me of small town New Zealand. It has that vibe, the collective that hasn’t quite been gentrified by the rest of Wellington yet,” one patron tells me. It rings true. Newtown Sports Bar is a time capsule for any rural pub from our past, a nostalgic reprieve from the changing world.

Growing up, my family and I would visit Shiel Hill Tavern in Dunedin to watch All Blacks games. The publican would have a beer poured for my Dad before he even stepped inside. My brother and I would fight each other over the Nintendo 64 controller in the kids’ area. Looking back, I can see now how pubs foster that sense of community, a middle ground for locals in the area to convene, enjoy a cheap drink and a meal, and forget about the outside world for a bit. A pub isn’t defined by the physical space, it’s the atmosphere created by its patrons that makes it a special place to be.

There’s an unpretentiousness about Newtown Sports Bar. A freedom by lack of definition that allows you to make it your own, whether that is a quiet respite from the daily slog, or a pit stop on a night out with the boys.

Steve, John, and Brian, three Newtown locals, have been coming to Newtown Sports Bar each Friday for decades. “We come here because it’s close to where we live, and there’s not much else to it,” Brian insists. “We’ve got nothing nice to say about the place”, says Steve, with a cheeky grin, while sipping back a Lion Brown tall boy. John is adamant he comes here for just one reason: “cheap piss”.

They tell me they remember when this building was a supermarket. Specifically, it was a Wardell’s, the first supermarket chain in Wellington. However, Wardell’s was soon superseded by New World on Riddiford Street, and the site sat vacant for years. The pub was born in 1989, when the site was leased to the Wellington South Licensing Trust. Vincent’s Bar and Restaurant, named for founding trustee Alice Vincent, became the go-to spot for workers around Newtown, equipped with generic beer, a large stage, lots of pokies, and all-around good vibes. The trust shut down under financial pressure in 2001, but the pub lived on. I haven’t been able to track down exactly when Vincent’s was renamed to Newtown Sports Bar, but it appears to have been in the late 2000s.

The real essence and heart that makes Newtown Sports Bar so special comes out each Friday night with karaoke hosted by Andrew, aka DJ Uce with the Juice. Plugging his laptop and two Singstar microphones into the booming sound system, he scours YouTube to find the Karaoke track of any song you desire, old or new.

Andrew has been DJing and hosting various Karaoke nights for almost 45 years. He grew up in Newtown attending the Pacific Islanders’ Presbyterian Church, just around the corner. “When you grew up in PIC as a youngster, you had to do White Sunday”, he tells me, “you better be on point and know how to sing and harmonise, cause in those days they’d give you a tap”.

Music has always been a big part of his life. His older sister was the lead singer of the soul group The Holiday Makers, and his two younger sisters sang backup vocals for the Chicago Smoke Shop. He beams with pride as he tells me that his cousin is none other than King Kapisi.

Andrew kicks off the night with a sweet, soulful rendition of ‘Is This Love’ by Bob Marley. “Andrew has the most divine voice, especially as the night grows old and he plays all the hits we grew up with,” says Helen, another longtime Newtown local. “It makes me feel so good, I don’t want it to stop”. Up next, a drunk millennial attempts to hit the high notes in Anastacia’s ‘I’m Outta Love’.

To most, the idea of doing Karaoke in a bar seems like a literal nightmare, but there’s something about doing it at Newtown Sports Bar that’s freeing. Andrew fosters an environment that is non-judgmental and supportive. You don’t need to feel embarrassed about being perceived, because there really isn’t much to be embarrassed about – even when I perform ‘Losing My Religion’ for the third time. Regardless of how your song goes, you can always find comfort in Andrew’s grin as he applauds you off the mic, with the night carrying on as intended.

Andrew brings the crowd together. From all walks of life, old and young, united by fearlessly bellowing out songs at 7pm on a Friday. It’s the perfect place to meet people you’d otherwise never have met, both regaling stories from your past with the one common thread of being at the same place at the same time. If you end up attending regularly enough, you begin to form real connections and affinities to these people, all while being able to enjoy an ice cold beer.

Everyone is going to have a personal bias towards the local pub in their neighbourhood, but there’s something so universal about the experience of Newtown Sports Bar. Although the decor may be a bit dated, it feels more like a time capsule than anything, a memory of growing up in New Zealand. It’s a cultural staple. It doesn’t pretend to be something it’s not, and does it perfectly. The next time you’re bored on a Friday night, take a visit to Newtown Sports Bar. Play a couple of rounds of pool, get a beer from Harry, and belt out some ballads with Andrew. You won’t regret it.