In search of a roof over their heads, a drink or an experience among the waterlogged streets of the colonia Romawe arrive at Órbita. An intimate and retro-futuristic refuge, this listening bar is a new place on the street of Orizaba. Here they take very seriously the concept of rotation. With a breakfast menu and a dinner and drinks menu that lasts until 2 am, not only the flavors change. The furniture, the spatial organization and the music also change.
The first thing we noticed when we arrived were two silver-colored tables on the street, between large-leafed plants. On one of them was a group of people chatting. At the other one we were greeted by Acampante and Eduardo, music collectors and members of Órbita.
It was while sipping a sweet pink drink called Picafresa that the story of this place began to unfold. Órbita is the result of talks between friends and partners who love music, coffee and cocktails. The idea was to create a space where none of these passions would eclipse each other, but rather interweave to create something more. It was then that the idea of a listening bar that would combine both interests appeared.
Listening bar: an island of sound in the Roma neighborhood
The concept of the listening bar has spread rapidly in many cities around the world since their birth in Japan in the 1950s. Those bars were characterized as cozy spaces for listening to music on high-fidelity sound systems. They were a way to access foreign music that rarely crossed the hard borders of the country. The drink of choice was the highball or, as we call it in Spanish, jaibol. The attendees drank while sitting on an armchair to share a moment of attentive listening.
Several songs have passed. By this point we are already sharing a jaibol and some flautas drowned in green sauce. Their flavor shares notes with a consommé. Then, with a blues in the background, Acampante begins to explain. "This listening bar is also a sound island, a time when you don't decide your musical tastes through the algorithm," he notes. "In that sense, there is a gesture of trust towards the person who shares his time and vinyls with us."
It's true: as we watch the wooden ceiling, the speakers, the coffee pot, the person behind the console pulling out those black, orbital, sound-guardian objects, it becomes clear that we no longer belong to the rhythm of the algorithm. We shazam one song after another only to receive the cold "we haven't found matches". We better close the app out of embarrassment for wanting to digitize this moment. That was also part of the Órbita experience.
Orbit and the importance of sound
The cold of the night is such that it invites us to eat more. At least that's what we tell ourselves. We order a juicy hamburger unexpectedly accompanied by avocado and mayonnaise with chile güero ash, and a Gibson Yuca, a drink that mixes dry vermouth and pox. The food and drinks, as well as probably the proximity that those of us at the table have developed to be able to listen to each other without disturbing the music, end up inciting confession. We are told that the sound system is made with a German artist and sound technician, who came to create and assemble it in Órbita. When he made the work trip, with all his necessary tools, he was detained for two days at the airport. There he had to explain that he had crossed the world to help found an island of sound and not to build a bomb, as the airport officials suspected.
We close the conversation with laughter. We notice that people look up from their drinks to exchange glances with the DJ as a sign of approval. The waiters follow the rhythm of the music with their feet. We say goodbye, with that red light blurring our features, waiting for the next song. Guided by a needle that runs along the grooves of those acetate records, we feel ourselves among various cities, styles and times, all connected by the same concept.
In the end we achieved our goal: we found a roof, several drinks and an authentic sound experience at Órbita.
@ooooorbitaOrizaba 115, Roma Nte.
Thursday to Monday : 8 am - 2 am