Bars Across the Country Are Remaking Themselves in a Unique Japanese Mold. Are We Ready for the Change?

This is part of Wet February, a series about America’s increasingly muddled relationship with drinking—and how to sip your way through it wisely and well.

When BierWax opened on Vanderbilt Avenue in the Prospect Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn in 2017, the concept of a “listening bar” was still somewhat foreign. That same year, Tokyo Record Bar opened in the West Village. Together, these two bars were rare destinations in New York City where one could get the experience of a kissa, the jazz vinyl listening bars of Japan. The concept, which anyone who even occasionally visits bars is now likely familiar with, centers on playing records and encouraging guests to actually focus on the music rather than their drinks or checking their Hinge matches.

For several years, as these “listening bars,” “record bars,” “vinyl bars,” or “hi-fi bars” popped up across New York and other U.S. cities, they felt exciting and novel. They contrasted themselves against rowdier dance clubs, cocktail bars where the music was an afterthought, or your local dive where that regular refuses to play anything except Boston on the jukebox. But by 2025, it seemed as if every bar was suddenly a “listening bar.” The concept had jumped the shark, from small, vinyl-focused drinkeries to sprawling, dual-concept omakase eateries and dancy dives.

As some of these destinations have already begun shutting their doors, it’s time to examine how many of these spots are true listening bars and how many others are just grabbing onto the currently marketable buzz of that label. Because when we hear the phrase listening bar, we should be able to expect a certain level of authenticity and attention to musical detail—otherwise, we could just go to whatever bar is closest to home.

Chris Maestro wasn’t chasing a trend when he opened BierWax with his wife, Yahaira Maestro. He was a lifelong vinyl collector and DJ who wanted to share his audio riches with the community.

“I had the idea of marrying these passions of mine, craft beer and records, around 2010,” Maestro recalls. “Once things got in motion around 2015, I described the idea to a friend who had just come back from Tokyo. They said, ‘That’s just like where I was visiting, all these jazz, blues, and soul bars in Shibuya.’ ” Maestro hadn’t known much about kissas, and he wouldn’t get to Japan to tour some until a year after his own Brooklyn bar had been open. The similarities were there, though, derived from the simple love of music, specifically records.

“The original concept of jazz kissas is that the owner brings their own collection into the space to share with guests,” Maestro says. This is exactly what he did, lining an entire wall of BierWax with thousands of his own records.

To some extent, it might be impossible to call nearly any of these bars in the United States true listening bars if you’re comparing them strictly with Japanese kissas. The latter typically fosters an environment hard to fathom for American bars. “In Japan, listening culture often self-regulates,” says Bobby Carey, co-founder of hospitality consulting firm Studio Ryecroft. “Internationally, bar culture is typically louder and more conversation-led by default. If you don’t set expectations, the room will drift back into standard bar behavior, and the listening promise disappears.”

Because American listening bars can’t be defined according to the same guidelines as Japanese kissas, authenticity hinges on intentionality. What’s the connection of the bar’s owners to music, and how does that reveal itself in the listening experience?

Press Club opened in Washington in late 2024. Co-founder Will Patton calls the space a “record bar and music lounge.” The concept emerged as an extension of hospitality, he explains, music being one of hospitality’s most crucial factors. “For a bar’s atmosphere, music is so important,” Patton says. “A lot of times you go into a bar or restaurant and the music is just this Spotify playlist that doesn’t mesh with the ambience. I was once in a bar at 8:30 p.m. on a Friday, and they played Neil Young’s ‘Little Boy Blue.’ That’s a great song for 3 p.m. in a dive bar after you missed a child-support payment, but not on a Friday night in a cocktail bar.”

By only having records, Press Club staff must stay in constant touch with the room’s vibe. “If we’re half full, we’ll put on something classic rock–y,” Patton says. “On a completely full Saturday night, we’re going more bass, upbeatness. If there are a lot of dates in, we’ll play D’Angelo. We’re responding to whatever’s going on.”

The strict kissa concept—in which patrons tend to sit silently to concentrate on the record playing and will even shush talkers—doesn’t feel like something that will fly for American bargoers, and Patton adds that he’s also not keen on subscribing to any buzzy, overused labels and the checklist that might come with it, like listening bar and obscenely expensive sound equipment. Instead, the music component shines through Press Club’s real-time record curation and the conversations the music often sparks with interested guests, as well as through specific projects like the bar’s latest menu launch, which recruited local artists to paint seminal early-aughts album covers.

In Los Angeles, Bar Benjamin has organically developed into a listening lounge since opening last May. Jared Meisler says he and his partners, Ben Shenassafar and Kate Burr, just love music and have an authentic connection to it—Meisler used to DJ with vinyl and has an extensive collection—and wanted a quality sound system to play it at its best.

“We specifically avoided that label,” Meisler says of listening bar. “We didn’t even play a record for the first month we were open because we didn’t want to make it our identity. It seems like it’s becoming that now, but that’s fine, because it’s authentic.” Shenassafar pushed for top-notch equipment, and Meisler knew the makers of the elite Maxville speakers in Venice, California. Bar Benjamin features Maxville speakers and turntables—“even coffee shops have incredible sound systems these days,” Meisler reasons.

The idea isn’t to fit a trend but to provide great sound. Meisler says the atmosphere isn’t quiet or serious at Bar Benjamin; they’ve had listening parties for friends who have released albums where those in attendance are there to solely focus on listening, but more often, the vibe is lively. The team often invites DJ and musician friends in to bring their own records and spin.

Back in New York, Birds embraces music through not only records but regular live music. Co-owner Assaf Tamir says the concept speaks to his upbringing; his father worked for a record company, and his mother taught piano. He had already noticed the impact of live music at his other bar, Lighthouse. “Whenever we threw a party, I’d have my musician friends play there, and the vibration from hitting a piano key or the string of a guitar as it moved through the room—you don’t get that from an algorithmic playlist of condensed MP3 files,” Tamir says. “You don’t have to go to a bar to listen to Spotify.”

Birds captures the feel of a 1970s jazz club but in a modern, well-appointed West Village space. The live music calendar bounces through jazz, R&B, funk, hip hop, and beyond—Tamir aims to get more electronic music going too. When musicians aren’t playing, the staff also curates a soundtrack according to the vibe of the moment, playing some of Tamir’s own records he’s brought in, or even CDs if the mood strikes.

So what ultimately defines an American listening bar? At Birds, the room is designed to present sound at its very best while still allowing guests to converse. That took details like four layers of different frequency-absorbing materials lining the walls, and a sound system blending modern and vintage pieces. Acclaimed bartender Steve Schneider partnered with Tamir and his co-owner and sister Naama Tamir to create a program of drinks people know—among them the martini, Manhattan, and Negroni—and can order without burying their heads in a wordy menu.

Bar Benjamin has its organic approach to its listening concept, a passion for music, a community of fellow record collectors ready to spin on any given night, and a top-notch sound system to make whatever they spin shine. Press Club doesn’t have the wildly splashy sound system but infuses music into every detail of the bar and takes its soundtrack curation seriously. BierWax also happens to be one of New York’s best craft beer bars, but Maestro balances this with his renowned record collection and regular rotation of known DJs.

So the American listening bar isn’t one size fits all. Even within the context of one bar, the application of the concept can shift, points out Ted Pitney, associate principal at D.L. Adams Associates, an acoustic consultancy through which he’s worked with listening bar ESP, in Denver. “I’ve gone into hi-fi bars where at times people are there to listen to what is being played and are enveloping themselves in the music, and other times it’s packed and I don’t see anyone listening; it’s just another bar playing music,” he says. “The No. 1 component of these bars is the intended functionality … but depending on the day and time, that functionality changes.”

How do you identify a real listening, hi-fi, or record bar out in the wild? As the Supreme Court justice famously said of pornography, you’ll know it when you see it. If you notice a significant record collection and can hear whatever’s playing beautifully while still being able to chat with your companion, and that music is absolutely nailing the room’s mood, you’ve done well. But if there doesn’t seem to be much attention paid to music beyond showy speakers, or you can’t even really hear, or it’s mismatched with the current vibe—you might just be in a bar that thought it would be easier to market itself with a label du jour.

“I see so many viral, like, social posts about ‘cozy’ listening spots and bars that spent millions of dollars on buildout with corporate funding,” Maestro says. “But if these folks are never DJs, or aren’t record collectors or from this culture, they’re just grabbing onto what’s trendy.”

Tamir likens the listening-bar trend to any other bar fad, like speakeasies. The establishments that retrofitted themselves to try to fit a buzzy label may fade out, while the intentional spaces can stand the test of time. After all, what these bars are providing—good music, good sound, good drinks—is about as timeless as it gets.