Green reveries by the Spree
By Rafi Mercer
New Listing
Anima is one of Berlin’s most atmospheric riverside listening bars — explore more in our Berlin Music Venues guide.
Venue Name: Anima
Address: Köpenicker Str. 16–17, 10997 Berlin, Germany
Website: https://anima.bar/
Phone: [not publicly listed]
Spotify Profile: [not available]
You approach Anima by way of Köpenicker Straße, where the Spree bends between old warehouses and new glass. From the outside, it seems almost hidden — a tucked-away corner of the Holzmarkt complex, modest in scale, softened by greenery. Push through the entrance and the city falls away. Plants crowd the space, leaves glowing under soft light, turning the room into something halfway between a greenhouse and a salon. The air is warm, faintly herbal, and somewhere beneath it all, a record is turning.
Anima is more than a bar. It is a listening room where nature and sound entwine. The first thing you notice is the system: custom-built loudspeakers flanking the room, designed to blend into the greenery rather than dominate it, powered by tube amplification that glows like lanterns in the dusk. The turntables rest on a solid oak console, their arms poised with precision. Drop the stylus and the effect is transformative. Notes feel as though they are part of the air itself, diffused like sunlight through leaves. Bass pulses gently, never overwhelming. Highs shimmer like water. It is hi-fi tuned not just for clarity but for atmosphere.
Programming reflects this symbiosis. Anima’s selectors lean toward the organic — spiritual jazz, folk, ambient, dub, and electronic minimalism. The celebrated “Plantasia Sessions” take inspiration from Mort Garson’s cult album Mother Earth’s Plantasia, with curators spinning records said to nourish both people and plants. It sounds whimsical, but in the room it feels deeply grounded: lush harmonies carried by air rich with green life. On other nights, the music travels further afield: Brazilian rhythms, Japanese city pop, African jazz. The constant is intent — every record chosen to resonate with the space rather than fight it.
The acoustic environment is remarkable. Plants act as natural diffusers, breaking up reflections and softening harsh edges. Wooden floors and ceilings catch the bass, letting it breathe rather than boom. The room is small enough for intimacy, large enough for community, and every table is oriented toward the sound. Conversation happens, but gently, as though voices are another layer of ambience. Listeners lean back, sip wine, close their eyes, let the greenery and sound wash over them. The effect is immersive in a way few Berlin spaces manage.
Drinks extend the ethos. Anima’s menu leans natural — wines from biodynamic vineyards, herbal cocktails infused with botanicals, craft beers brewed locally. There is a sense of care in every pour, a belief that what you drink should be as alive as what you hear. The bar staff move with quiet precision, never breaking the spell of the room. Even the food, when offered, echoes this rhythm: seasonal plates, light and fresh, designed to accompany rather than distract.
Consistency has become Anima’s calling card. Since opening, it has resisted the temptation to become a louder, more commercial venue. Nights remain curated, the system always tuned, the balance of plants and sound always maintained. It could have drifted into being just another riverside hangout, but it hasn’t. Instead, it has become a sanctuary, a place where Berliners come to listen differently — not with bodies pressed together on a dance floor, but with ears tuned to subtlety.
The audience reflects this. You find designers, musicians, locals, travellers — but more than anything, you find listeners. People come not to be seen but to sink into sound. Some come alone, content to sip quietly and let the evening unfold. Others arrive in small groups, but once the music begins, conversation softens. It is not enforced silence but shared respect, a recognition that the room is held together by what flows from the speakers.
Leaving Anima, you carry with you more than the memory of a night out. You carry the sensation of sound woven into environment, music as ecology rather than entertainment. The plants glow in your mind’s eye, the bass still murmurs in your chest, the air feels somehow changed. That is Anima’s gift: it recalibrates not only how you hear music, but how you inhabit space.
For this, Anima stands as a ★★ venue. It is built for music, curated with intent, consistent in ethos. With time and further refinement, it could easily join the ★★★ pantheon, but for now it remains one of Berlin’s most atmospheric listening sanctuaries, a place where plants and people breathe to the same rhythm.
See our Listening Bar Collection
Rafi Mercer writes about the spaces where music matters. For more stories from Tracks & Tales, subscribe, or click here to read more.
