The Sound Room: Le Poisson Rouge’s Audiophile Hideaway

August 22, 2025

By Rafi Mercer
New Listing

The Sound Room is one of Greenwich Village’s most discreet hi-fi listening spaces — explore more in our New York Music Venues guide.

Venue Name: The Sound Room at Le Poisson Rouge
Address: 158 Bleecker Street, Greenwich Village, New York, NY 10012
Website: Le Poisson Rouge
Instagram: @lprnyc
Phone: (212) 505-3474
Spotify Profile: N/A

In New York, even the most legendary venues sometimes hide smaller secrets within their walls. On Bleecker Street, Le Poisson Rouge is known globally as a hub for adventurous programming — experimental jazz, indie showcases, club nights that stretch until dawn. But tucked within its labyrinth of rooms is a space known only to those who seek it: The Sound Room, an audiophile listening lounge carved out as a counterpoint to the venue’s mainstage.

Slip inside and the contrast is immediate. Where the main room buzzes with lights and spectacle, the Sound Room glows with intimacy. The lights are dim, the seating arranged low and close, the walls treated to embrace the ear rather than the eye. It feels as much like a private salon as part of a venue. The point is clear: here, listening is the focus.

The system is formidable. A bespoke installation by Ojas Audio — horns, subs, and amplification tuned to perfection — delivers both power and clarity. What’s striking is the precision. Bass notes don’t smear; highs are crystalline without fatigue. On the 5 Rules of Sonic Excellence, the Sound Room excels in Sound System Quality and Acoustic Environment, a pairing that makes the music feel physical yet nuanced.

Programming is just as deliberate. Curators invite selectors and DJs who understand restraint, often vinyl-focused, leaning toward deep house, spiritual jazz, experimental ambient, and dub. Some nights, the room is a laboratory of sound design, with artists pushing the limits of space and system. Other nights, it’s about warmth and groove, a late-night session where friends and strangers nod together in the same pocket.

The curation and vibe reflect LPR’s ethos but distilled: risk-taking, genre-bending, always about intent. Unlike larger rooms where conversation and energy compete with sound, here the audience leans in. People sit, listen, sip, and absorb. It isn’t silence, but it is reverence — the sound is never treated as wallpaper.

Drinks mirror the intimacy. A concise menu of cocktails, wines, and beers is on hand, but the point isn’t excess. Patrons tend to order one or two and settle in, letting the room unfold slowly. The bar staff know the regulars, and the regulars know each other — a small community within the city’s larger nightlife organism.

Consistency, the final rule, is what keeps the Sound Room valuable. It isn’t always open, and its programming doesn’t follow the relentless pace of the main venue. But when the room is activated, you can trust the standard. Every night feels intentional, every selector understands the responsibility of playing on such a system.

Leaving the Sound Room, you step back into the swirl of Greenwich Village — neon lights, late-night diners, the ghost of Bob Dylan still echoing down Bleecker. But inside your chest, the resonance remains: the thrum of low-end finely tuned, the shimmer of records played with care, the feeling of a secret shared. That is the Sound Room’s gift.