As any decent dictionary published after 1980 will tell you, an endorphin is "any of a group of peptide hormones that bind to opiate receptors and are found mainly in the brain. Endorphins reduce the sensation of pain and affect emotions." In other words, they make you feel good.

What triggers this reaction varies slightly from person to person (love, chocolate, etc.). But for Masahiko Ozaki, music is the key -- preferably rock and preferably on 12-inch vinyl. That's why, when he opened his first bar 15 years ago, he called it Endorphin.

The original was in Jiyugaoka -- and Endorphin is still there, though it moved once about five years ago. The only difference between the two is that the stairway to Ozaki's little slice of heaven got shorter as it moved from a second-floor locale to a street-level location. It made no difference. A steady flow of supplicants still made the pilgrimage from all over Tokyo to visit his shrine to '70s rock 'n' roll.

It has always been a destination bar -- meaning even if it was in Timbuktu, people would still make the trek to get there. But now, with the opening of Endorphin II in Shibuya, Ozaki's destination bar has arrived at a more convenient location -- though you still need to hike up to the top of Dogenzaka and slightly beyond to get there.

Endorphin II administers the faith with the same formula and flair as the original. Like the original, it is dark, with candles and small oil lamps as the main sources of light. And with dark wooden floors and bar, and deep brown walls and ceiling, very little light emanates beyond the source, creating a comforting cloak of darkness. One candle, at the end of the bar, is allowed to burn and drip directly onto the counter. Over time, delicate tendrils of wax pool to form an ever-changing creation upon which the next candle is burned. Though it's only been open two months, it already stands 15 cm high. But apart from this, and a few Asian knick-knacks decorating the entrance, the interior is sleek, modern and clutter free. The waft of incense further soothes the senses.

Another trademark of Endorphin is the construction of the service area behind the bar. The floor is considerably lower than on the public's side, so that even though a customer is seated, when Ozaki steps up to serve them he is on the same level -- eye to eye.

And, in a move faithful to the very first Endorphin, the booze is kept in a separate store room. In this way, customers can browse what's on offer, select a bottle and bring it back to the bar, where Ozaki will keep it for the duration of their stay. While the original Endorphin features a gallery of replica guns on one of the room's walls, it is this one -- with floor-to-ceiling shelving lining both sides of a long narrow corridor -- that somehow reminds me of the scene in "Matrix" when row upon row of munitions fly past Neo and Trinity as they are getting geared up for a raid.

Last, but not least, is the music. Fifteen hundred albums on vinyl and 500 compact discs of classic rock: Led Zeppelin, King Crimson, et al., with a dash of soul such as James Brown and Marvin Gaye. But, really, anything goes. Ozaki played Bowie and U2 while I was there. I requested Cream's "Sunshine of Your Love," which he was happy to play. Each note is cherished: Every guitar lick, every reverb is played out. He would never cut a song short. But with pretty much his whole stash of records now here at the new bar, it makes you wonder what's left back in Jiyugaoka, where a friend of Ozaki has taken up the helm. As with other houses of the holy, all are welcome. Endorphin's congregation includes rockers with long-hair, preppies in polo shirts and sarariman of all ages. But for everyone, the song remains the same . . .