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The half dozen musicians gathered at the pub last night ignored the stage, where two microphones and a couple chairs sat empty. Instead they collected in the middle of the bar, at a wide table just on the other side of a small barrier from the pool table. When we arrived around 9:30 p.m., the group comprised a fiddler, a mandolin player, an acoustic guitarist, and a flutist.
At first we figured we'd missed their show, but then the group picked up on a tune and got to work while still seated at their table, playing music I've really only heard back when my sister took a semester in Ireland (although my friend who suggested the bar had spent years in Boston going checking out the Seisiúns at venues there.)
The musicians' performance was entertaining and unusual, picking up and dying down more like conversations than like the focal point of the room. There were long pauses between songs as the men took tips from pints brought over by their friends. There were perhaps 20 people in the bar, ranging from a man out alone who paid the group his full attention, to groups of couples in the back who spent the whole evening talking, to pool players and college kids--who took up seats closer to the jam session and chatted less frequently the more the music played on. For their part, the musicians weren't at the mercy of the crowd's applause--which came, politely, at the end of the songs--but rather were focused on one another, sitting in a semi-circle and going back into discussions amongst themselves when they'd finished off a tune.
I can't pretend to be an authority on the ins and outs of traditional Irish music, but sitting there as it washed over the bar, I'll say it was the perfect background for a chilly Sunday night. It was neither too loud nor was it quiet background music, but more a cool way to create an inviting atmosphere for the bar.
As the number of players grew (the flutists numbering three strong at one point) the music only sounded warmer, its faraway roots making it feel like we were on a spontaneous vacation in County Cork, at a pub where multiple generations were gathering for friendly wrap-ups to the weekend. The framed posters lining the walls behind the booths and behind the bar only added to the travel vibe, the traditional Guinness posters advertising the beer culture while other artwork advertised Irish music.
The Seisiún seems like a scene that grows off the beaten path of entertainment fixes in this city. It needs few giant ads or full page writeups, as those in the know I imagine understand where and when to bring an ear or an instrument. As an outsider stumbling in from the fog, it was more than the perfect way to cap the weekend. It was also a reminder that there's so much more to San Francisco's music communities than meets the ear, and more you stray off the expected, the better experiences can get.
