Seoul, Tortured Soul

It seems like only yesterday (actually, it’s been over a week) that I was sitting at my desk at work wondering why my darling students had chosen not to study for yet another test when, out of the blue, I got an email from my dear friend Richard inquiring if I’d be interested in joining him later that night for a concert in Hongdae.  Now, I had already responded “maybe” to a Club Day invite on Facebook, and I had no real inclination to go club hopping that night.  But, lucky for me, Richie is the thorough type: he had prepared a special weapon to combat my potential reticence.  I clicked on the link, and it took all of two dancing head nods to rouse me from my doldrums.  I emphatically affirmed that I would attend!

Tortured Soul, as was named the band whose sound had so immediately appealed to me, was not scheduled to perform at Museum until 1am.  So, I spent a good several hours posted up outside a Seven-Eleven in Hongdae (a hotspot in its own right) chatting and sipping with newfound expatriate friends I had met on Facebook.  Since coming to Seoul, I can’t say that I have enjoyed a sufficient number evenings conversing and carrying on as I did that night.  Like the cool, crisp autumn air, the experience was invigorating!

When the time came for us to mosey on over to Museum, our little herd was surprisingly energetic.  It only took some minor winding before we landed at our destination.  The street was a little dark, but the club sign was just eye-catching enough to make me feel as if we were going somewhere.  After all, if nothing else, Koreans believe in presentation.  The doorman, even, was as bewitchingly attractive as he was utterly intimidating (requisite traits for any aspiring bouncer in Korea).  He quietly asked for our IDs, and after an apparently careful inspection of each, allowed us entry into the establishment. 

For me, it was smirk at first sight.  It seems that every worthy club I’ve visited in this town involves an unassuming staircase descending into a world of surprise.  Museum was no exception.  At the bottom of the stairs, we entered into a small bar and lounge area that seemed a minimalist take on late 60's retro meets Luke Skywalker’s Tatooine homestead.  The dancehall and stage were in a room that, while connected to the lounge, bore no resemblance in form or character.  Where the lounge was fairly narrow, mainly white, and reflected the dim lights quite well, the dancehall was big, dark, and bursting with lighting effects.  Maybe, I’m just getting old.  But, there were times I was driven to shield my eyes from the spectral onslaught.

No matter.  I would brave any peril to witness another high yield performance by Tortured Soul.  In light of the general propensity for those not effectively acquainted with Black American performance styles to overdo any and everything, I must praise these three gentlemen.  Whereas a majority of performers today foolishly think that screaming all out of the resonance and interpolating any ole embellishment anywhere equals “sounding Black”, by virtue of their obviously acute familiarity with the idiom, John-Christian Urich, Ethan White, and JKriv get it right!  Their brand of “live soulful house” makes them as much a welcome, live alternative to electronic dance music as they are a sound reminder of disco’s refined and nappy roots.