There was the Tuesday night [when] a songwriting duo was playing onstage and asked Fred to sit in on spoons. (Fred was a genius on spoons no really!) The song they played was sweet, soft and sad and I can't really explain this, but Fred somehow created a kind of magic performance that brought to mind something of Charlie Chaplin, Bob Dylan, a dance done by Fred Astaire and an animated side show of light percussion. Strangely enough, I wanted nothing so much as to almost cry. Bob Reuter, Fred's doorman
Frederick's actually accomplished what many other bars try to: He made you feel like you were at home, because he was actually inviting you into his house when you played there. Sara Oberst, That's My Daughter
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