The walls are covered with all sorts of interesting stuff, including old album covers and a huge ox head above the bar. Or is it a yak? I forget.

I introduce my self to Jen, the stunning bartender, and will later regret admitting I'm 10 years her senior. Owner Joey Hatrick (insert hockey joke here) says to his sister Lisa "make me one of those crazy martinis," and she does. I get a Bud bottle and listen to the band.

Condition Blue makes rock 'n' roll sound great and look easy. They have no set list, but, armed with decades of experience, they nail every song with ease. They look comfortable and seem to be having much fun.

Some songs start of with brief dialogue like "B flat, one, four, five, but up tempo," and off they go on a flawless excursion. They rip the classics: "Crossroads," "Mustang Sally," "Stormy Monday," "One Way Out," any of what drummer Sandy Gennaro calls "the nuts and bolts of rock 'n' roll."

While three-chord rock isn't brain surgery, it's very easy to screw up. Just as I wouldn't want Buddy Guy slicing open my cranium, or anyone else's for that matter, I also don't want any lab coat-wearing, doctor types messing with my blues-rock. Just like brain surgery, rock should be left to the professionals. Enter Condition Blue.

Bass player Jerry Renino also plays with the Monkees and pulls double duty as their musical director. Yes, I said the Monkees. Davy Jones, Peter Tork, Mickey Dolenz and Mr. Whiteout, Mike Nesmith. Renino put together Condition Blue with help from music veterans like Gennaro, who drove all the way from Staten Island for this inaugural gig.

Gennaro has hit the skins for the likes of Cyndi Lauper, Joan Jett, Bo Diddley and Pat Travers. Tim DeHuff, who Renino said is a highly sought-after session player, sizzles on guitar. Armed with only a Stratocaster, shaved head and a Hawaiian shirt, DeHuff reminds me of Lex Luthor if he had forsaken evil and used his genius to power a blues band.

Jerry's brother, dubbed "the Buddha of Blues," sings and plays keyboards and harmonica. He shouts things like "just a groove in E" before the band ultimately follows him.

Sitting at the bar with Renino, he tells me his story: a quarter of a century with the Monkees, month-long bus tours, living out of suitcases and a need for change. I ask the obligatory "So what are the Monkees really like?" He says they are all great guys, especially Mickey. Renino tells me he still works one-day gigs with the guys individually. Invariably a fan will ask them where the other three are. The standing response from each is a jocular "I don't know. It's not my day to watch them."

Lisa pours me an Extreme martini. Cran Apple. It's damn good but lacks the eye-popping, foot-stomping strength of a real martini. Or maybe it just tastes so much better than the turpentine I normally drink that the booze kick goes unnoticed. But with names like Sugar Daddy and Apple Pie A La Mode and glass rims coated with caramel and sugar, these concoctions won't stay hidden for long.

Lisa tells me that a renowned mixologist from Manhattan perfected Opium's martini recipes. Science — if you can call mixology a science — normally depresses me. But chemistry, whether it's between people or the ingredients of a perfect libation, plays an important role in decision-making at Opium.

Joey Hatrick is working on a menu. Right now it's hot dogs, pigs in a blanket, veggie dogs, turkey, beef, chili and, I think, pretzels. But Opium is more about music and fun than food. It has a happy hour, from noon to 6 p.m., five days a week. There is karaoke on Mondays; live music Wednesdays through Saturdays and an open mike jam on Sundays. And Opium has a 2,000-song digital jukebox with everything from ABBA to Zappa.

Opium Jazz Lounge is at 2716 Fairfield Ave. , Bridgeport.