So You Want to Come to My New Vinyl-Listening Bar

Welcome to Needle & Monk, Brooklyn’s newest Japanese-style vinyl listening bar. This is not “just another bar hidden behind a secret door inside a Bushwick haberdashery.” This is a sanctuary for sound, a cathedral of crackle, a temple devoted to the art of shutting up and listening to a record properly for once in your life.

Below are a few simple guidelines to insure that everyone’s experience remains as spiritually transcendent as possible.

Entry Requirements
Bring a valid I.D., three references, and your Discogs wish list—if it is deemed acceptable, you can come in.

Keep Your Voice Down
You may murmur—but softly, as in a morning sunrise. If I can distinguish words beyond reverent muttering, you will be escorted to the Whispering Corner, where a framed photo of Bill Evans will silently judge you.

Phones Will Be Checked at the Bar
No photos, no videos, no Shazaming. If you must know a track, raise your hand at the end of the side, and I will write it down for you with a fountain pen on a small slip of paper. You will frame it when you get home.

No Requests
The music is curated, not crowdsourced. This is not a jukebox. This is a journey. If you approach the d.j. booth and utter the phrase “Do you take requests?” you will be handed earplugs and told to meditate in silence.

Remain Seated
You may get up to use the rest room, but only between sides. During songs, please remain still. Any movement above shoulder level will be interpreted as dance and is strictly forbidden.

Order Quietly
When ordering a drink, simply make eye contact with the bartender and mouth the word “whiskey.” If your lips make a sound, you will receive a twenty-three-dollar artisanal water.

Do Not Touch the Records
In fact, don’t even look at them. The vinyl is for ears only. Before you exit, you will be asked to leave your fingerprints on a first-press copy of “Aja” so that we can identify you later, if need be.

Respect the Sound System
Our speakers were handcrafted by a monk in Kyoto who has never known laughter. Each one took twelve years to complete and costs more than your car. If you rest your drink on the subwoofer, the staff will remove you with a comically large hook.

Limit Your Party Size
Two is a crowd. Three is chaos. Four might as well be Bonnaroo. If your group exceeds one person, we will assign you all to a corner of the room with headphones and play “Journey in Satchidananda” at the wrong speed as you reflect on your choices.

Dress Appropriately
We ask guests to dress in “vinyl formal” wear. This means: dark tones, clean lines, and nothing that rustles. Corduroy is banned. Denim may be permitted if raw. Fleece will be burned.

Handle Emotions with Dignity
If the music moves you to tears—and it will—please let them fall silently onto your coaster. If you feel compelled to sing along, you will be offered a small wooden flute and asked to play it outside.

We Do Not Serve Food
Chewing is the enemy of hearing. Hunger only for the next modal-chord change.

End of the Night Ritual
When the final record spins out, everyone must rise, bow their heads toward the turntable, and whisper in unison, “Thank you for your service.” Only then may you retrieve your phones and reënter the digital wasteland.

Final Caveat
Should you violate three or more of the above, you will be sentenced to forty-eight hours in our Isolation Lounge, where only “The Very Best of Ed Sheeran” plays—on Spotify (not Premium), over Bluetooth, through a single AirPod.

Thank you for visiting Needle & Monk, where silence is golden, vinyl is sacred, and talking is violence. ♦