Step back in time at Yamatoya, which has cozy Shōwa-era-style interiors, floor-to-ceiling shelves of vinyl records, and coffee brewed with fresh spring water.
Eagle, Tokyo
At Eagle, talking is prohibited until 6 p.m., at which point founder Masahiro Goto allows light conversation inside his sleek, 59-year-old wood-trimmed lounge.
Downbeat, Yokohama
Downbeat is split between a smoky back bar and a listening room with mammoth movie-theater speakers blasting everything from bebop to contemporary jazz at high volume.
Kissa Kissa, Brooklyn, New York
The first traditional jazz kissa in the U.S. has an upscale vibe with more than 5,000 LPs and a menu of inventive cocktails incorporating flavors like yuzu, shiso, and pandan.
Shibuya Hi-Fi, Seattle, Washington
Patrons remove their shoes at this neighborhood lounge and sink into plush seating for an experience the founders call a “mental reset” from streaming-music algorithms.
Learning to Listen in Japan
Kissa-inspired listening bars have sprung up across the United States and Europe, though the intimacy of a Japanese kissa can be difficult to translate, especially where collective listening and public quietude are harder to achieve. In L.A., Gold Line advertises itself as a record bar with high-end speakers and vinyl, but a typical Friday finds roaring crowds and thumping music like at any nightclub. All Blues, in New York, serves $20 cocktails and encourages reservations for its listening room, where DJs play records through audiophile speakers. An online music community called In Sheep’s Clothing Hi-Fi promises curated hi-fi listening experiences at pop-up events in L.A.
A critical piece of the kissa experience, though, is cultural: Japanese social codes cede individual expression to collective good. On the other hand, Masako’s Hayashi told me, tourists often understand kissa history and protocol better than many Japanese because they learned about it online and want to experience the real thing. I could relate.
At Tónlist, a bright Tokyo dinerette, patrons can enjoy contemporary jazz with a side of Icelandic-style hot dogs (tónlist is Icelandic for “music”). But it’s not just food that owner Yuya Uno, 49, a car designer by day, hopes people come for—he wants his kissa to emphasize “how fantastic good sound is.” When Uno played vibraphonist Sasha Berliner through vintage Tannoy speakers, the music was breathtakingly clear—among the finest we heard in Japan.
When I praised his speakers, Uno smiled and said the best sound system in Japan actually belongs to a kissa called Basie, located in the postindustrial city of Ichinoseki, four hours north of Tokyo. Jazz legend Count Basie, who inspired the kissa’s name, gave the owner, Shoji “Swifty” Sugawara, his nickname, and visited the kissa in 1980. Drummer Elvin Jones and his band played the club every New Year’s for a decade.
Basie has been closed since the pandemic, but Sugawara, 83 and retired, agreed to open for National Geographic. The occasion was so rare that Uno asked to join our pilgrimage, which included Kusunose and superfan Michikazu “Mitch” Yanagawa, whose shaven head and bearded chin gave him the appearance of a monk.