Once a ubiquitous presence on America’s bar-and-grill scene, jukeboxes have gradually faded into the background as live music, DJ entertainment, pumped-in satellite-radio feeds and even homemade MP3 playlists have become the soundtracks to most of our indoor surroundings. As last month’s final episode of The Sopranos reminded us, however, the coin-operated contraptions haven’t gone completely silent yet (really, Tony ... Journey?). They’re just a little bit tougher to find nowadays.

Ah, but what a find they can be. More than simply a chance to hear a favorite tune, the glass-encased musical cabinets represent that most unique of human opportunities: the ability to impose one’s will upon a roomful of strangers, legally and typically without repercussion.

Of course, with such privilege comes great pressure, to maintain a mood or perhaps even to elevate it, and to avoid dropping a dreaded dud. Nothing can bust up a happening scene faster than Matchbox Twenty, Poison or Creed, especially when it’s been jumping all night to the likes of T. Rex, The Pogues or Dusty Springfield.

At its core, sound technique requires a heady piece of machinery, so with that in mind, here are five Vegas jukeboxes worth your time and spare dollar bills. And remember, don’t stop believin’.

CHAMPAGNES

3557 S. Maryland Parkway

At first glance, the juke at this old-school joint doesn’t appear particularly distinctive, filled as it is with greatest-hits CDs by well-known acts. Sort through the racks behind the pulsating yellow lights for a few minutes, however, and the device’s two principal virtues become readily apparent: its wide genre assortment and the way all that musical variety somehow manages to jibe.

If you’ve never been to Champagnes, pretty much all you need to know is that, when faced with a choice between food and cigarettes, this longtime “café” shut down its kitchen. The place is darkly lit, a bit musty and undeniably a throwback, and as such it calls for familiar sounds delivered by old favorites.

Where else are you gonna find tavern-rock staples Springsteen, Hendrix and Santana sharing space with Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett? Where contemporary countrymen Kenny Chesney and Dwight Yoakam cozy up to old-timers Patsy Cline and Elvis? Or where Barry White, The Police and Parliament can sit comfortably side-by-side? All for the dirt-cheap rate of four plays for $1. (We’re still trying to figure out how Madonna’s Immaculate Collection and The Cure’s Disintegration snuck in, so when “Rosalita” finishes, why don’t you saunter over and dial up “Like a Virgin”? We dare ya.)

DOUBLE DOWN SALOON

4640 Paradise Road

With apologies to the folks who’ve hosted shows in storage lockers, living rooms and the middle of the desert, no Vegas venue screams DIY like the Double Down, so it’s natural that the jukebox at the famously divey, no-cover bar brims with punk rock.

We’re talking ’70s and ’80s punk heavyweights from both sides of the Atlantic (Ramones, Black Flag, Bad Brains, Sex Pistols, The Clash), proto-punk pioneers (MC5, Stooges, New York Dolls, The Sonics) and dozens of the popular and up-and-coming punkers on today’s scene (Against Me!, Throw Rag, The Briefs). Not surprisingly for a watering hole that serves bacon martinis and something called Ass Juice, the Double Down’s juke also has a sense of humor, mixing in a little Richard Cheese and Louis Prima to go with its mohawked angst. Perhaps best of all, it reps for the local scene, offering up The Vermin, Thee Swank Bastards and The Peccadilloes.

Still, two-minute, three-chord cuts can grow old fast, which explains why owner P Moss makes wholesale CD changes each and every week. That still might not be often enough for the bartenders, though, as one expresses while sardonically dancing in place: “The third time you hear [The Specials’] ‘Monkey Man’ on the same day, that shit can start wearing on your brain.”

THE GRIFFIN

511 Fremont St.

The Knights of the Round Table apparently abandoned this darkly lit, fireplace-enhanced hot spot sometime in the not-too-distant past, and we can’t help but admire the music they left behind. Totally hip but not overly trendy, the Griffin’s cool-by-not-trying atmosphere screams out alternative and indie rock, and that’s exactly what they’ve got lots of.

We’re not talking Nirvana’s Nevermind or Oasis’ (What the Story) Morning Glory? here. This juke largely dips below the mainstream radar, for cult classics from Echo & The Bunnymen, Morphine, The Jam, Donovan and PJ Harvey (we can’t in good conscience recommend plunking down good money for Wire’s 28-second “Field Day For the Sundays,” however), along with current blogosphere faves the Arcade Fire, Interpol, Spoon, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah and LCD Soundsystem. They’ve also got the Stones and Weezer, but instead of Forty Licks and The Blue Album it’s all Let It Bleed and Pinkerton behind this pane of glass. Shows taste.

And it’s not entirely about rock at the Griffin, which mixes in a little Afro-Cuban jazz (Willie Bobo), Latin lounge (Sergio Mendes & Brasil ’66) and French pop (Serge Gainsbourg), easily qualifying this box as the most eclectic we’ve found in town. Wonder if their music maven is available for parties ...

FATBURGER

4851 W. Charleston Blvd.

What could possibly go better with a Big Fat Deal than a 15-minute blast of upper-register John Coltrane? Sure, it probably wasn’t the kindest way to treat the elderly couple sitting five feet from the jukebox, trying to enjoy their Saturday evening burgers and fries, but hey, our money, our pick, right? And at Fatburger, one of many restaurants and bars moving away from traditional jukeboxes in favor of customer-controlled Internet providers, you can almost literally play anything you can think of.

Why settle for Pink Floyd’s overplayed “Money” when you can touch-screen its 1970 opus “Atom Heart Mother” (some 24 minutes long, last time we checked)? Why bother with the Grateful Dead’s “Casey Jones” when you can scare the bejesus out of a family of five with 1969’s “Death Don’t Have No Mercy”? And just think how much better a bowl of chili might be with the soundtrack to Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Total Body Workout hovering in the background.

Other Internet jukes, such as that at British pub Crown & Anchor, are even more loaded, adding a strong batch of hip-hop and near-complete catalogs from The Beatles, Radiohead and Pavement to most of Fatburger’s impressive array. Nevertheless, despite its three-credits-for-$1 pricing (with most decent choices lamely costing two credits), Fatburger still gets the nod in this weight class, mostly due to its limitless potential for good ol’ dinner-time mayhem.

RAO'S

Inside Caesars Palace

This upscale, NYC-bred Italian eatery featuring signed photos of celebrities like Dennis Farina, Joe Torre and Vincent Pastore practically begs for a full-time resident crooner, but its owners have opted for the next best thing: a quartet of jukeboxes spread throughout the multiroom facility, all housing the same 100 CDs and all connected to a central hub, which determines an overall playing order for every selection made.

Choices are appropriately classy—Luciano Pavarotti, Nat King Cole, John Lennon, Bobby Darin, Billy Joel, Lou Rawls, Louis Armstrong, a healthy dose of Motown and the restaurant’s own An Evening at Rao’s compilation disc. Better still, the juke includes several Italian-language offerings, with Riccardo Cocciante, Fred Bongusto and Gianni Morandi providing an authentic setting for a highly respected Manhattan establishment now making a name for itself on the Las Vegas Strip.

Of course, free play also means no consequence. Arrive late at night and you can forget about hearing your choices, since nothing prevents a bored early patron from setting up 50 of his favorites, or perhaps one of his favorites 50 times in a row. Not that we know anyone who would ever pull something like that ... again.

Illustrations by Colleen Wang