Filmmaker Nick Dwyer traces the origins, evolution and enduring appeal of Japan’s ongaku kissa.

Listening cafés and bars have become de rigueur in any self-respecting, trendsetting city around the world. But the inspiration for them comes from Japan’s ongaku kissa culture – music cafés and bars made specifically for deep listening. Filmmaker Nick Dwyer has been obsessed with them since he first began visiting Tokyo in 2004, and when he stepped into the hundred-year-old classical music café, Cafe Lion – the birthplace of ongaku kissa – he recognised their significance. Since moving to Japan in 2014, Dwyer has immersed himself in the culture, creating a six-part documentary, A Century in Sound, that explores and celebrates the phenomenon. Here, he sets the scene for a culture that just can’t be mimicked.

Ongaku kissa ground zero

In 1926, exactly a century ago, Cafe Lion opened its doors and marked the beginning of ongaku kissa culture. In the 1920s, there was a boom in ‘café’ culture, especially in Ginza – places where young Japanese went for a taste of western culture, a big part of which was music played through a phonograph, which was a technological marvel at the time. These cafés were rowdy affairs, with alcohol served by waitresses in a sexually charged (for the era) atmosphere. To distinguish themselves from their unruly counterparts, new establishments started to open where music and intentional listening was the focus. The culture spread fast throughout Tokyo, and by 1929, the first proto-jazz kissa had opened.  

Analogue (mostly) rules OK

Most of your experiences in ongaku kissa across Japan will be with the crackle of vinyl, but that’s not to say that CDs don’t make an appearance from time to time. For so many of the places, it’s the music that matters most, and if something doesn’t exist on record, then it won’t prevent it getting played. Sometimes you’ll find that in some of the older, smaller ongaku kissa, they just don’t have space for large vinyl collections any more and have switched to the more compact CD. 

Every genre belongs

What’s so exciting about the culture is that it has followed every twist and turn of modern music since 1926. There are ongaku kissa for every genre: tango kissa, french chanson kissa, places that focus on just British hard rock or US west coast rock. We’ve been presenting the first three episodes of A Century in Sound at film festivals as a showcase of sorts, but in its true form, it’s a six-part series. The fourth episode focuses on a bar called Nightingale, where on any given night, you can hear music from the outer fringes of experimentation. 

Listen by the rules

It’s pretty simple – just come with respect for the place, respect for the owner and respect for the other people who have come for the sole purpose of listening. I’m not sure if the owners have ‘rules’ per se, but if they did, it would probably be something like, “If you’re gonna go in, go in.” They’ve dedicated their lives to creating these beautiful environments where recorded music sounds greater than ever; years and years of dedication, love and passion have shaped these environments. 

Where scenes are started

If you speak to any Japanese musician of a certain age, especially those who came up in the 60s and 70s, all of them spent their days in jazz kissa, or evenings in rock kissa. Music fans connected in these places and bands were formed. One of the more legendary ongaku kissa was DRUGSTORE in Kyoto, where you could hear John Cage, Philip Glass, Dead Kennedys or the Los Angeles Free Music Society. Among the regulars were musicians who would go on to become pioneers of the Kansai noise scene.

Listening, transformed

Being in these spaces has changed my relationship with music. I’m in these places nearly every day. There are a couple in my neighbourhood that I get most of my music discovery from. One is called Masako, and the other is Tonlist, which featured in the Yussef Dayes in Japan film I was part of. Both places have incredible sound and play new releases. There’s nothing quite like hearing new music over an incredible set of speakers in a room full of others who are as locked in as you. 

A place to learn

In the post-war period, these were places of escape for some, healing for others. Japanese jazz legends like Toshiko Akiyoshi, Sadao Watanabe or Shōtarō Moriyasu would go to jazz kissa in 1950s Tokyo and Yokohama and study the solos of Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie so they had material to perform for the American troops who wanted to hear bebop.

The culture is alive and kicking

These places are full of life. From students in their twenties, right up to the same regulars who’ve been visiting since the 60s and 70s, and now handfuls of curious music fans who’ve made pilgrimages from abroad just to seek out these spaces. It’s a wonderful, alive culture that’s only getting more vibrant.

There’s only one ongaku kissa

No one in Japan is doing this to get rich. Every ongaku kissa owner started their space because they wanted to share what they love with their customers. It’s community over commerce. In places like London, New York, Los Angeles, it just isn’t possible to operate with this same spirit, so concessions must be made. We recently did a series of events at different London listening bars, and I loved every single one of them. But not for a second did any of them feel close to what’s happening in Japan.