There was a moment late on hazy Saturday night, when I suddenly doubted whether I was, after all, in a central London pub rather than in the comfort of my own home with a few of my favourite CDs on rotation.
But no, I certainly was in The Phoenix just around the corner from Oxford Circus - here were the bar staff, there were other groups of Saturday stragglers lounging across the comfy cushions and sofas, right in front of me was just the latest in a series of hefty Hoegaarden glasses-cum-barrels - just about visible in the dimming darkness.
Hmm, so perhaps I'd merely poured every coin I could into the jukebox.
How else to explain the backdrop of The Byrds' "You Ain't Goin' Nowhere" had been followed by Gram Parsons's "Still Feeling Blue", Emmylou's "Two More Bottles Of Wine", Merle Haggard's "Mama Tried" and many more country-rock classics you might not expect to hear muscling out the usual more modern city-bar fare...
Gradually it all became clear(ish). The superb "Sin City", a monthly nightclub night devoted to purest Americana, has now moved from the Great Portland Street venue The Albany (with which I was familiar, though without paying a visit for a too-long 12 months or so), to this handier central London location.
The early drinking start yesterday's 12.45pm kick-off at the Lane had encouraged, meant a lengthy late-night-early-morning stint on the dancefloor downstairs wasn't really advisable, but it was a joy to have such a soundtrack played up on our level for most of the evening.
In fact, if only I'd known in advance, I might have brought along the proud black Stetson I bought a few years back in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.
Actually, that might not have been for the best at Tottenham, judging by how eagerly the blokes sitting in the row behind me latch on anything to whinge about.
No, a cowboy hat is probably best left at home, not taken to the Lane.
Spurs, on the other hand...
(Sorry about that. Awful pun it may be, yet it seemed the kind of obvious open goal only Ronny Rosenthal could have avoided...)