Soju and Song in the Shelter of Palm Tree
If the MOCA ad campaign, billboard-size labels that describe the everyday as art, were to inlude the Palm Tree L.A., it would read: “Koreatown drinking rituals, 2001. Headset-wearing staff, big burly doorman, model-like waitresses, Korean twentysomething professionals, airport lounge decor, live house band, fake palm trees, karaoke rooms, strobe lights, tambourines, Asian music videos, pool tables, apple soju, Crown Royal whiskey, kimchi and bundegi.”
Gone is the neon bowling it was famous for, but there’s still plenty to distinguish Palm Tree L.A. Sure, there’s a sports bar and lounge where everyone’s watching the game after work. And there’s karaoke and billiards for the Koreatown singles scene. But in the fourth floor lobby, Crown Royal whiskey bottles are displayed in boxes along the walls like a shrine to the art of hard liquor entertaining, a commonplace practice in Koreatown drinking establishments.
Take the elevator to the fourth floor Palm Tree, located in the Wilshire Galleria high-rise. After passing the big doorman who screens for underage, “raver” and “baggy pants” types--dress code, management states, is strictly enforced--you’re given a choice of three play areas behind three doors.
Behind door number one: a swanky supper club featuring a house band, the Sujin Nam Quartet, cranking out jazzy renditions of “When a Man Loves a Woman” and “Sexual Healing.” If you want to grab a beer and watch the game, head for door number two’s sports bar. Shoot pool or just shoot the breeze while watching Asian music videos screening on any of the 48 monitors fixed throughout the 20,000 square foot multi-entertainment complex.
Door number three used to lead to the club’s infamous neon bowling alley, which drew a diverse crowd and celebrities to the club when it opened in late 1998. Its low-profile mid-Wilshire locale and impressive size made the Palm Tree a popular place for wrap parties, and it was frequented by the likes of Pamela Anderson, Whitney Houston, Jay-Z, Chan Ho Park, Toni Braxton and others.
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A few months back, the bowling alley was replaced with 20 of the ubiquitous no-re bang (literally “song room”) now found practically on every street corner in Koreatown.
Each state-of-the-art karaoke studio is guaranteed to make even the worst singer with the lousiest pitch sound great, promises Brandon Lee, the Palm Tree’s vice president. Rooms of various size rent by the hour, and each sport a famous designer name like Burberry, Versace and Boss. The idea is simple: Let your hair down, and become the singing sensation you always knew you were, all in the privacy of your own “studio.” Plush booths, tambourines, and Korean, Japanese and English song lists complete the interior, and are ideal for entertaining business clients and special occasions.
“People come after work to relax, they come during playoffs and the place gets packed,” says bandleader and pianist Sujin Nam. A composer who’s worked on film scores for “Entrapment” and “Wonder Boys,” Nam takes the Palm Tree stage Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays with her quartet of local jazz musicians. “The Palm Tree is the only club in Koreatown with live music,” Nam says. The current lineup includes singer Chris Pierce, guitarist Lars Anderson, drummer Ron Monaag and bassist Daniel Lutz.
In the lounge, fake palm trees sway overhead and a mostly twentysomething crowd engages in ritual libation. Orders of whole bottles of Crown Royal or pitchers of soju cocktails (a Korean distilled sweet-potato liquor flavored with lemon, apple or peach) are placed by pressing the service button located on every table. The waiter will bring a Palm Tree Samba, a nonalcoholic house special, if hard liquor and bundegi (larvae appetizer) are not your thing.
Owner Sean Lee chose the palm tree as a symbol of California, but envisions the club as a model for a worldwide chain of clubs--Palm Tree Seoul, Boston, Sa~o Paulo, New York and the like. A popular image synonymous with Los Angeles, the Palm Tree L.A. has become just like the city itself, offering something for almost everyone.
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* Palm Tree L.A., 3240 Wilshire Blvd., Fourth Floor, Wilshire Galleria, L.A. Open daily, 5 p.m.-2 a.m. 21 and older. (213) 381-3388.