The Big Apple has a new place of worship for anyone interested in world music: Satalla, on West 26th Street in Manhattan.

The club resembles a casbah imagined through the lens of a Duran Duran video director. The club’s melon-colored walls are splashed with neon swirls that jump from the corners when illuminated by the black light bathing the narrow room. The patrons that populated the club on a recent evening sat on low Asian stool and table sets. They ran the gamut from a bevy of hipper-than-thou Asian women with severe bangs to lost Deadheads looking for an organic hit of music. Lithe, coltish waitresses dressed in black slithered through the tables and catered to their every whim. 

If Satalla is the new world music temple, then owner Michael Yaacobi is the high priest. An exotic, engaging man of unknown origin, he is the picture of international chic. 

“I started this club to meet people like you,” he says with a straight face. (Flattery will get him everywhere in this column.) “This is a great way to meet people like you, who are from other cultures. There is no other place in New York that brings these different elements from all over the world into one club. Only here.”

The club has hosted the likes of Niamh Parsons and will bring Cathy Ryan to the Big Apple on December 5, providing fertile soil for Irish music to blossom in front of other cultures. That effort must be loudly applauded. Besides, what better way to do that than by visiting Satalla to see what otherworldly sounds are coming from the stage on any given evening?

Whatever the occasion, Yaacobi promises a night of broad entertainment. Kavehaz Jazz is a trendy supper club next door to Satalla and has the same owner. They host various jazz ensembles, ranging from American to Jamaican Jazz (who knew that existed?). Both clubs add a splash of much-needed color to this dingy neighborhood in midtown. 

Alas, this column is about Irish music. There was plenty of that on display when Kila walked onstage last weekend, in town to tout their phenomenal Luna Park. The saucy fiddles of “The Compledgegationist” from their immortal Lemonade and Buns collection started the spirited set. Then they launched into “Carnal Knowledge,” dedicating it to “the men in black of the church” before launching into one of the funkiest, sexiest beats this reviewer has heard in many moons. 

For this columnist’s money, Rónán Ó Snodaigh has to be the most charismatic lead singer in the Irish music business, or any other business for that matter. His unkempt gypsy look resembles that of a caveman, adding a primal sensuality to the jungle rhythms of this exotic band. Their spirited reels took the listener through many cultures – a zip through a Turkish market, a dash through a Middle Eastern bazaar with a trip back to Ireland for good measure. 

That’s the magic of Kila. They coax international textures from the traditional bodrhans, fiddles, and flutes that they play. Eoin Dillon’s fine uileann pipe and tin whistle noodling deserve special recognition, as they kept the band firmly routed in Irish soil and soul throughout the evening. 

One of the musical genres that they felt perfectly comfortable hijacking this night was blue-eyed soul. Their rendition of “Béilín Méala,” from their new CD, was simply breathtaking. Over a watery Motown riff, Colm Ó Snodaigh sang in the Gaelic tongue with a haunted style eerily reminiscent of Roy Orbison. A trained physiotherapist and acclaimed Irish sports columnist, this infinitely talented man proved that he could sing the life out of a song while playing flute, whistle, harmonica, saxophone and djembe. 

Kila worked the postage stamp-sized stage with a ferocity that was truly awe-inspiring. Heads wove out of the way of the fiddle’s bow, which narrowly dodged the neck of the bass guitar. The closeness made for a combustible energy that powered the evening as the band ran through a set that contained something for just about everyone. Even your man with the dreadlocks at the DJ booth was bobbing his head by the end of the evening!

One of the heartening things about the evening, which may sound funny reading this in an Irish music column, was that there were few Irish people in the standing-room-only audience at Satalla the night Kila played. This was Irish music for non-Celtic fans, and the irreverent performance at this world music temple guarantees that other creeds will worship at the altar of Celtic culture for years to come. For more information on the band, log onto www.kila.ie.

(Satalla is located at 37 West 26th Street. For more details call 212-576-1155 or go to www.satalla.com.)