After 70 years, live music has returned to Carmel-by-the-Sea.

According to local lore, an occurrence back in the 1930s caused the Carmel-by-the-Sea City Council to adopt an ordinance forbidding live entertainment at any venue where alcohol was sold or served. Back then, Carmel had a handful of honky tonk bars that entertained their often inebriated clientele with live piano music, and some of Carmel’s residents lived in apartments above these rowdy establishments. One night, a group of intoxicated carousers decided to wheel an upright piano out of a bar and onto the street, where they started playing and singing well into the night. This disturbance spurred the council to adopt the ban, which existed for around 70 years—until the Carmel City Council rescinded the ordinance this past October.

Brian Roseth, principal planner for Carmel-By-the-Sea, says that the idea to drop the decades-old prohibition, again, came out of a City Council meeting. In October, a new ordinance was adopted that allows live entertainment with some stipulations. Roseth says that to attain a live music permit, businesses must identify everyone within 100 feet that might be affected by the increased noise and to agree to maintain certain sound levels.

With the ban lifted, Carmel might become known as a city that stays awake past 9pm. Rich Guillen, the city administrator, says that Anton & Michel and Cypress Inn already have live music permits. Also, the addition of live music five nights a week at the Bixby Bistro, and the continuing piano bar every night of the week at Mission Ranch, means that right outside of the city limits live music enthusiasts are able to quench their thirsts for entertainment too.

Last week, after the first round of play at this year’s AT&T Pro-Am, I did what in the past would’ve been impossible: I left Monterey for an evening of live music in Carmel. First off, I arrived at the Cypress Inn, where vocalist Cyndy Spengler, bassist Robb Fisher and pianist Dick Whittington were scheduled to perform. After grabbing a wheat beer at the bar, I wandered into The Living Room, which, with its comfortable couches, Steinway grandfather clock and bookshelves, felt more like a grand home library. As the trio played standards like “My Funny Valentine” to a crowd that included about a dozen people, a poodle and an English Labrador, I found the troubles of the week drifting away.

After Spengler took a request, Whittington and Fisher began playing “When Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.” The song drew Neal and Bettile Hoteling of nearby Pebble Beach out of their seats, and they danced across the room’s cream-colored carpet.

Bobby Richards, bar manager of the Cypress Inn, says he immediately attempted to attain a live music permit for the establishment when he heard that the ban was going to be lifted. Since launching a four-day-a-week schedule, Richards says, the Inn’s walk-in traffic has picked up. “Carmel was so thirsty for something like this,” he says. “It’s been a shot of vibrancy for this town.”

Since Anton & Michel had no entertainment scheduled for the night, I headed for The Barnyard shopping center to check out the music scene at Bixby Bistro. Inside the crowded, sleek restaurant and lounge, vocalist Holli Moon sat on a tall chair behind a microphone singing “Since I Fell For You” as Rick Forschino accompanied her on piano.

During an instrumental section of songwriter Dave Frishberg’s “Listen Here,” Moon chatted with audience members. “Where have you been all my life?” Moon said after applause.

As the clock passed 9pm, I traveled back to Carmel to look for signs of nightlife. Behind the Lauryn Taylor Fine Art Gallery, I found it: karaoke and DJ music by Anthony Risso at Ferrante’s Village Pub. Here, the small crowd was partying like a people liberated from an oppressive regime. Almost everyone seemed to be having the times of their lives. Unexpectedly, they included about a half a dozen people under 50.

One young upstart was 24-year-old Brendan Kinion, who wore a black cowboy hat and a T-shirt that says: “I have no idea what’s going on.” Kinion walked to the corner of the bar by the karaoke equipment to sing Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire.” As he sang, a blonde, middle-aged lady patted him down like he was a suspected terrorist at an airport as he attempted to focus on the words streaking by on the teleprompter. The woman, who was clearly the most fired-up patron in the bar, yelled a “woo hoo” unexpectedly every couple minutes.

After singing Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl,” Pete Bassett, co-owner of the  Carmel restaurant Forge in the Forest, told me one reason why everyone in the bar was celebrating: “Because we don’t have to go to Monterey,” he said.