What it’s like
Some places are designed to impress on the first visit. Saikindō becomes more interesting once you know its rhythm. I have returned often enough to understand that the appeal is not simply the Japanese listening-bar concept, or even the impressive sound system. It is the way the evening changes depending on where you sit, what is playing and how long you decide to stay.
The Hi-Fi Bar is where Saikindō makes the most sense. Music leads, conversation adjusts around it and the bartenders become part of the performance without turning every drink into theatre. The rest of the venue adds different layers: the Robata Room is more intimate and food-led while Kūkan is louder and more playful. The design is detailed, occasionally eccentric and very knowingly Japanese, but it does not need to be decoded to be enjoyed.
The beautiful interiors of Saikindō.
Food & Drink
The cocktail menu could easily have become a concept looking for a drink. Instead, it is one of the stronger reasons to return. Presented as Side One and Side Two, Aji No Hibiki translates tracks from the 1980s, 1990s and 2000s into flavour. AI was used to map elements such as tempo and tone, but thankfully that is not what you taste. What arrives is a proper cocktail: balanced, considered and able to stand on its own once the explanation is over.
Loungin’ is one of my favourites and a good example of why the menu works. Inspired by the Guru track, it brings together mezcal, shōchū, citrus zest, IPA hops and olives. On paper, there is a lot happening. In the glass, it is smoky, savoury and unexpectedly clean, with enough edge to remain interesting without becoming difficult. It also captures Saikindō’s point of view particularly well: Japanese ingredients and technique, interpreted through music rather than restricted by tradition.
The Saikindō Bar
Much of that coherence comes from Marco Corallo, Saikindō’s Beverage Director, who created the bar menus. His influence is visible beyond individual recipes. The drinks belong to the room’s identity rather than feeling like a separate hotel-bar programme. Japanese whisky, sake and shōchū receive proper attention; the free-spirited cocktails feel developed rather than included as an obligation; and there is enough range to reward repeat visits.
The food is built for the way I prefer to eat at a bar: several small plates, ordered gradually, with no pressure to turn the evening into a formal dinner. Akami crispy rice, A5 Wagyu gyoza, sushi, yakitori and robata dishes move easily across the table. There is enough precision to make the food memorable, but it still understands its role. It supports the drinks, the music and the pace of the night rather than competing with them.
