ALEX MARTIN

Staff writer

Cigarette smoke wafts across rows of whisky and shōchū bottles with dedicated name tags draped around the necks as an elderly man, microphone in hand, belts out a Showa Era enka tune playing on the karaoke machine.

Another local steps through the heavy door, saluting regulars crowding the bar counter and chatting up Mari Ichikawa, a middle-aged mama-san whose costume tonight is a black, silky gown. Hair carefully curled, face immaculately made up, she hands an oshibori (hot towel) to the latest customer entering her dimly lit domain.

Welcome to the sunakku, or snack bar — a unique and ubiquitous drinking establishment that is a fixture of the Japanese nightlife.

With their distinctive pricing systems, these joints are perhaps best-described as a toned-down, budget version of hostess clubs. For half a century they’ve offered mostly male patrons a whiff of nostalgia, a bit of female comfort and a home away from home.

For the uninitiated, these small, often windowless, bars cluttering narrow, seedy alleys or inhabiting lonely station fronts may seem somewhat intimidating. Once inside, however, visitors can expect to glimpse the role they play as places of communal gathering, somewhat akin to the British pub but in a more intimate setting.

“The number of snack bars has fallen compared to the economically booming bubble years, but there are still an estimated 70,000 of them in Japan — that’s more than there are convenience stores,” says Koichi Taniguchi, a professor of law at Tokyo Metropolitan University.

Outside his regular day job, Taniguchi also heads the Sunakku Research Society, a project funded by the Suntory Foundation to explore the significance of snack bars from various academic perspectives, including history and anthropology.

While snack bars can be found in any big city, Taniguchi says they really thrive in rural areas where, in many cases, they are the only place serving alcohol late into the night.

Born in Beppu, a hot-spring resort in Oita Prefecture, Taniguchi grew up watching his father regularly heading off to snack bars after local gatherings and developed a natural affinity for the establishments, one reason he began researching the topic.

“There’s another face of Japan you can only find through its nightlife,” he says.

And while their numbers have declined, the retro-kitsch ambience that snack bars offer is now resonating with a younger generation.

The snack bar etymology harkens back to the 1964 Tokyo Olympics, when the government was tightening regulations on the adult entertainment industry.

Responding to a new law requiring bars to close at midnight, many began serving light meals — “snacks” — to circumvent the regulation and remain open later. Lore has it that some kept an untouched sandwich or two handy in case authorities dropped by to check on whether they were really serving food.

In the 1970s, the invention of karaoke would provide snack bars with what has now become a staple draw. At first a simple eight-track system, it moved on to LaserDisc karaoke in the 1980s, followed by compact discs, DVDs and, finally, online karaoke on demand.

In addition to the karaoke system and the proprietress, the indispensable third element in the Holy Trinity for a snack bar is alcohol — but don’t expect to be served fancy cocktails or craft beer. Snack bars typically only serve beer, whisky and shōchū, the latter being a type of spirit that can be distilled from various materials such as wheat and potatoes. Ice, water and soda are also available.

Pricing fluctuates depending on the size and location of the establishment, but usually involves a table charge of ¥3,000 or so that includes light food. Drinks can be bought by the shot, but regulars often opt to “bottle keep,” buying an entire bottle of liquor from the menu and having whatever is left over from the evening stored at the bar for their next visit. All together a patron might spend anywhere from ¥4,000 to ¥6,000 on a single visit.