Noah Ginsburg stood behind the bar counter at Dorrian’s Red Hand on 84th Street and 2nd Avenue, losing tips as he showed a new bartender the way to pour the proper Guinness. Dorrian’s, an Upper East Side sports bar and restaurant, hired some new employees to beef up their staff. While training one of them, Ginsburg learned he was now splitting tips with a banker, an occupation which included the luxuries of a salary, benefits and paid time off. When he asked the man why he was learning to be a bartender, the banker said he thought the work would be a good time.
Ginsburg: I thought to myself, “Okay, wow … you’re here for fun?”
That bar shift marked the beginning of Ginsburg’s weekend bender, a term that’s taken on new meaning since his college days. He will work Friday night from 9pm to 4am, Saturday from 12pm to 2am, then Sunday from 9pm to 3am. Come Monday, he’ll return to his apartment a few blocks away, barely able to see straight. He needs those busy shifts, though, and the money that comes with them.
Ginsburg and the man learning to bartend for fun may share the collected tips at the end of the evening, but that’s where their similarities end.
You’re here just dipping your toes into this, just to say you’re a New York bartender? Just to hit on some girls? It pisses me off so much. I am splitting my tips 50-50 with this person who is here just fucking around. I am not here just fucking around. This is my job. I need this money.
A bartending gig in the Big Apple can appeal to those who don’t rely on it to pay rent. Balancing the drinking, loud music, crowded counters, and inevitable swagger every bartender possesses to an extent allures those who don’t serve drinks for a living. Add having an artistic passion to the mix, like Ginsburg, and the vibe escalates. From the outside, this life is easy to romanticize.
But it’s not romantic. It’s not romantic at all.
Ginsburg will clock out at Dorrian’s and head one block over to Brandy’s Piano Bar, his other bartending gig. He’ll grab an end of night drink with coworkers who share his need for tips and love for art. People who came to the city to pursue music - or musical theatre - pack this bar’s roster. As they should; you’ve got to know more about harmonizing than the four-count method to work there.
I’ll go hug Maria Gentile, my 65-year-old Sicilian lesbian from Boston who makes me pasta. I buy her meatballs from her. We’ll talk politics and shoot the shit. She’s delightful.
When he first moved to the city, Ginsburg printed out resumes and canvassed the Upper East Side looking for jobs. He had no expectations of where he’d get work. Musically auditioning for a bartending position felt like the perfect level of bizarre and on-par for the new transplant.
I popped into Brandy’s, and they were like, “Yeah, we do need bartenders. Are you a singer?” I didn’t expect that at all. I said, “Well, actually yes, I am!” And that was it. I came back, auditioned, and started working there within two weeks of moving here.
Ginsburg has since learned to shake any drink, sit on a stool and sing in front of anyone, and sustain a love-hate relationship with pursuing a musical career while working in New York’s beverage industry. Leaning over the counter on a slow, Wednesday happy hour shift at Brandy’s, he feels at ease amongst the wooden booths, piano, and concert posters. White (well, white once) Cole Haan sneakers, a blue flannel jacket and a head of shaggy brown hair align into a tall, smiley persona. He’s come to wear the chaos well.
Ginsburg moved to New York with a distant dream of building a group of musicians. Finding the right people with the same goals and vision has not been easy, despite the city’s vast amount of music lovers and players.
It’s been really hard for the first year and a half to set everything up, to make it work, to find people to make a band and do music with. I am a musician and I always knew I wanted to play with people, but it’s not an easy life.
November 2022, Omni Hotel with The Big Slice, photo by April Canahuati
I am not here just fucking around. This is my job.
I need this money.
I need this money.
While attending the University of Virginia, Ginsburg sang and played guitar in The Big Slice, a band of fraternity brothers and friends. They performed their single “The Strangest Thing” to crowds of friends during UVA’s summer party festival in 2023 and released it on Spotify, where it currently sits with nearly 35,000 streams. Over the summer of 2022, Ginsburg toured with New Orleans based band One South Lark.
Now out of college, Ginsburg passes up no opportunity to strengthen his artistic muscles, whether that means jamming, songwriting, or playing along with others. It’s taken a while to get comfortable putting himself out there in such an overwhelming city, and Ginsburg thanks his bartending jobs for some conditioning. Talking to strangers to make his money has given him more confidence when networking outside of his job.
I don't think I would have been able to just go to one of the cool, Lower East Side bars or whatever, and just start chatting and being myself with other musicians before this job.
Ginsburg lives most days in New York outside of his comfort zone as he fights to grab bar shifts, plays with whoever he can find, and sings songs he considers far from his repertoire at Brandy’s. He’s come to crave the consequences.
It wasn’t until I started finding the right people to play with, going out, and finding out about the scene, and getting inspired by new kinds of music that I started to really get hungry for it.
While his parents living back in Oakton, Virginia encourage him to consider not only his future but his security regarding the musician’s pursuit, they also understand Ginsburg’s need to chase his artistic passions. He’s got a sculptor and painter for a grandmother, a graphic designer for a mother, a classically trained trumpeter for a father, and a broadway actor for an uncle. To top it off, Ginsburg’s little sister intends to pursue a fashion career in Manhattan when she graduates this spring.
We have a lot of artists in the family, so they’re super supportive of artistic pursuits.
Ginsburg rejected the piano lessons his parents threw him into at an early age. In high school, however, he picked up a guitar he got for Hanukkah when he was five, and taught himself to play using YouTube. He would learn chords to music his dad had played in the car, like “Stairway to Heaven”, and run down to his office to show him. His love for playing and making music only grew from there.
When I found my own way, I loved it. That’s how it always is. You have to find your own way to it.
December 2003, Fairfax VA, photo by Brandon Ginsburg!
Working at Brandy’s has improved Ginsburg’s musical talents as much as it’s helped his social skills. His coworkers show him how to work a crowd and experiment with new musical styles, pushing him out of his comfort zone.
I like singing songs that I know, and they’re like “Why don’t you sing Prince? Do it. Sing Prince.” I’ve never seen myself as someone who can do something like that, or even have the gumption to attempt to do something like that. They push me in that way. I’m learning to get looser. They’re all so loose.
Ginsburg will shake martinis for patrons one minute and then sit on a stool across the bar and sing the next, facing a buzzed crowd of tourists and locals seated close enough to reach out and touch him. All he’s got is a piano player and a tip jar: a far cry from his college band days with an elevated stage, electric guitar, drumset, and crowd of screaming classmates.
It’s so intimate and naked. Everyone can hear all of your voice and what’s happening. You can’t hide anywhere.
The daily exercise of putting himself out there - whether at Brandy’s or with other musicians – has instilled a New York confidence in Ginsburg, and for the 24-year-old musician, gears are starting to turn.
When I found my own way, I loved it. That’s how it always is.
You have to find your own way to it.
You have to find your own way to it.
In the fall of 2024, he met Ben Rex, his roommate’s coworker’s younger brother. The two hit it off, and began rehearsing in Ginsburg’s apartment together immediately. After over a year of searching, he’s at last found a teammate. The two have since recruited Ginsburg’s roommate to join as a bass player.
We have the same goals – he has the same focus and drive. When you’re with a teammate that has vision and energy, they make you better. We’re just a good team.
The group plans to launch their band along with an original collection of music before the end of the year.
We have so many songs. They’re just flowing out of us. It’s so cool. And they’re so good, I am very confident in them.
Ginsburg’s music inspiration rests in 2000’s rock: The Strokes, The Killers, Kings of Leon and the Arctic Monkeys. His guitar influences follow the same attitude, with Jimmy Page, David Gilmore, and Led Zeppelin topping his lists. After time in New York his taste has grown to include music he hears more often around the city. He’s currently loving jangle rock with high-paced guitar, and listening to bands like The Smiths, The Sundays, Always, and LCD Soundsystem.
I’m so into New York bands right now. My taste is always evolving – I’ve gone through a heavy metal phase, used to listen to a ton of hip hop in high school, and will always love soul music. It’s always changing.
It’s spring of 2025, and Ginsburg is doing what he always hoped he’d be doing in the city he always hoped he’d be in. He still has to grab open weekend bartending shifts to pay rent, still has to sit on that spot-lit piano stool and sing for his supper, and still has to muscle through stretches of days where he works more than he doesn’t. But he’s playing music, and he’s building something he can put his heart into with someone who wants to do the same. He’s stepping into himself.
I’m really excited about where I’m at right now, which is not a place that I’ve been in my time in New York. Not ever, but not like this.
Ginsburg remembers realizing how much he loved singing while in high school. He’d wait for his family to get out of the house so he could blast the speakers and belt the lyrics to his favorite songs.
I’d be like, “Are you guys leaving the house or something?” They’d say yes and I’d be like, “Cool, cool.” I’d wait in my room for them to leave, and then crank the music, literally hold a wooden spoon, run around my kitchen, and sing.
Just a few glances around Ginsburg today will show how far he’s come since those days. Instead of dancing around a kitchen in Oakton, he stands confidently behind a counter in a New York City piano bar. Instead of a wooden spoon, he’s got a real microphone in his back pocket. And instead of alone, he’ll sing later for strangers and regulars alike. He’ll belt out Frank Sinatra while his friends play piano behind him, shake cocktails across from him, harmonize with him and cheer for him. It’s all a celebration of what’s happening right now and what’s to come, in one way or another.
Music is coming, the band is coming. I can’t wait.■
Find Noah . . .
Instagram: @noah_ginsburg
Instagram: @noah_ginsburg