A one-man show for a one-man audience
I must have walked past the Alps bar dozens of times in the past month. I never noticed the little neon sign that said “Live Music,” and I’m pretty sure I never heard any coming from inside. Yesterday, however, I did hear music when I walked by, not live but enticing enough, especially after I saw that sign.
The place was empty. Not just dead or quiet. I mean abandoned. A woman behind the bar hurried me inside. “Live music?” I asked. She said it started in 20 minutes, around 10:30 p.m. I promised to come back, with friends if I could round them up. The stage had enough instruments lined up to keep several bands busy all night.
I was alone when I came back at 11, and I was alone for most of the show. None of my friends came along, and serendipity found no one else. “Do you like folk music?” the barista asked when I returned. I nodded. “Do you like Korean music?” I shrugged, having never really listened to much. It sounded good, though. There was a man at table tuning a classical guitar, and all those instruments were still on stage. I sat down and ordered a Cass.
It was a one-man show. The man’s name is Bang Il Son, and he manages the bar. Before and after his set, he answered phones and delivered plates of food to another few guests who came in, one of whom I later learned was his brother. He was good, though, and I wish he had more of an audience. The bar is in a tough location, his brother told me before I left: Halfway between Yonsei University and Sinchon, where most of the area’s nightlife is, Alps gets little walk-in business from either place.
Aside from location, the place is cozy, with soft couches and low tables, a large Che painting peaks out from an alcove hiding secluded booths. Al Pacino looks down from a Godfather II poster near the bar. It’s the kind of place I probably should have found a month ago, not three days before I head back to China.
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