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This K-town karaoke joint—located on the third floor of a discreet building, past both a Korean mini-mart and a wireless café, and boasting no street signage—is best left for real karaoke enthusiasts: The place is a bit too dingy and random for casual fun. Inside, the smoky air (featuring traces of the owner’s cats) obscures the retro eighties décor: mirrors, gray walls, Christmas lights, an inexplicable set of twelve thirteen-inch televisions. Gagopa provides only private rooms, where guests get comfortable on red leather sofas, basking in the glow of the disco accoutrements lighting up the space. Wine, Champagne, and beer (but no hard alcohol, alas) are available, straight from the bar’s picnic cooler. — Justine Ingersoll

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