Still OG — San Jose’s Low-End Sanctuary
By Rafi Mercer
New Listing
Venue Name: Still OG
Address: 37 North San Pedro Street, San Jose, California 95110, United States.
Website: stillog.com
Instagram: @still_og
Phone: +1 408-320-2420
San Jose has long lived in the shadow of its neighbours. To the north, San Francisco carries the myth; to the west, Oakland carries the weight of legacy. But San Jose has a rhythm of its own, one rooted in community, in car culture, in the low-end pulse of West Coast hip hop. That rhythm has now been given a room, and its name is Still OG. More than a bar, more than a restaurant, Still OG is a sonic statement — a venue that treats listening with reverence, and bass as a language worth perfecting.
The name is deliberate. “OG” here nods to authenticity, to the culture of hip hop that has shaped the Bay Area for decades. But it also signals “Original Groove,” the ethos behind the space. Step inside and you feel it instantly. The room is dark but warm, dressed in wood and leather, lit by a glow that flatters without distracting. At one end sits the bar, stocked with craft cocktails and whisky that fit the room’s low register. At the other sits the system — a custom setup voiced to the frequency that matters most in this city: bass.
And what bass it is. The system is anchored by towering Funktion-One speakers, tuned with precision, delivering low end that you don’t just hear but feel. Kick drums hit your chest, basslines coil around your legs, yet the sound is never crude. The mids carry weight, so vocals and horns retain clarity; the highs shimmer clean. It is the sound of San Jose translated into architecture — bold, full, proud, but balanced. You can talk, you can move, you can sit still and just let the pressure of the room recalibrate you.
The collection that feeds this system is equally serious. Hip hop sits at the centre — 90s classics, West Coast staples, underground cuts — but it extends outwards: funk, soul, disco, reggae, jazz. Resident DJs and guests alike treat the booth as an altar, building nights that flow rather than fracture. There are no cheap transitions, no crowd-pleasing jukebox moments. Instead, there is curation, storytelling through records, patience in the build. A night at Still OG is less a party than a narrative, written in wax.
The drinks list is curated with the same care. Cocktails lean dark and strong — old fashioneds, Manhattans, mezcal negronis — alongside seasonal signatures that nod to California produce. The whisky shelf is deep, the beer list short but sharp. Service is calm and confident, staff moving at the tempo of the room: unhurried, attentive, always tuned to the music. You order, sip, and before long you realise your drink has become part of the rhythm — a glass rising and falling with the beats around you.
Food is part of the experience too, a menu built for sharing, bold flavours to match the system’s power. It keeps people at the table longer, allowing evenings to stretch, for conversations and music to entwine. You can come for dinner and stay until closing without once feeling the need to leave. That continuity is deliberate. Still OG wants to be a total night, not a stop on the way to somewhere else.
The crowd reflects San Jose itself — diverse, grounded, loyal. Locals who grew up with Bay Area hip hop share space with younger listeners discovering vinyl for the first time. Tech workers escape the sterility of their campuses, while artists and musicians treat the bar as a hangout. The atmosphere is democratic: no velvet ropes, no sense of hierarchy, just people gathered around a shared respect for sound.
What makes Still OG vital is that it roots global listening-bar culture in local soil. It nods to Tokyo’s kissaten tradition, to Brooklyn’s vinyl bars, to London’s audiophile lounges, but it does so with Bay Area DNA. The lowrider aesthetic, the love of bass, the reverence for hip hop: these are not imported, they are lived. Still OG doesn’t pretend to be anything else. It is San Jose, distilled.
Step back outside onto San Pedro Street and the city rushes back at you — restaurants spilling out, the hum of cars, the distant glow of the SAP Center. But your body still carries the weight of the room, the resonance of bass tuned to perfection. You walk away slower, heavier in the best sense, reminded that in San Jose, fidelity speaks in low end. Still OG proves that the city has always had a voice; it just needed the right room to let you hear it.
Rafi Mercer writes about the spaces where music matters. For more stories from Tracks & Tales, subscribe, or click here to read more.
