`All art has been contemporary at some stage' reads the giant neon red slogan that adorns the front of one of the main, Wagnerian buildings in Berlin's Museuminsel area. The phrase and the way it is delivered in bold, shiny letters lashed to the Doric columns on the front of the grandiose building, sum up my weekend stay in Berlin.
In spite of the city's image as a nu minimal central, it has and still does encapsulate much of what I held and still hold dear about electronic music. Some of what I experienced there managed to combine these elements, capturing the old and the new, the familiar and the unknown in a way that is exciting and, whisper it, fun.
Visually and musically, this mixture of the old and new, was evident on Saturday night, when I visited the Berghain club for the first time. I had read many accounts about the club's strict door policy and suffice to say, as I queued up outside at 1am,
I saw it in action. A group of younger guys, probably from the UK ahead of me were told in explicit terms that they were not allowed in. The group right in front of me, consisting of two young well-dressed Turkish-German couples from the suburbs who chatted as they waited - apparently a no-no if you want to get in - were also knocked back, but in less brutal terms. In the meantime, I stared into space and remained silent. As I walked in, the bouncers hardly looked at me, even though I was almost shabby looking, dressed in a hoodie top, jeans and runners. Maybe the fact that I didn't say a word while queuing, or that I was on my own, or just that I looked like I would appreciate the music a bit more, meant that I sailed in. Maybe I'm the type of person the club wants to attract, but maybe if I turned up again next week, I'd be knocked back for some inexplicable reason. After a thorough search, which was prefaced by the bouncer barking 'Los!' at me and after which he wishes me a pleasant night, I finally go in and it quickly becomes clear why Berghain's door policy is so strict. I've
never been in a club like this: the entrance hall and main space are cavernous, the roof above the dance floor located somewhere in the stars. The adjacent bar is like a scene from a Batman movie, the long diamond windows stretching up to infinity and adding to the Gothic sensibility. Truly, this is a venue of huge proportions, a techno club on a grand scale. Then there's the equally monstrous sound system. As I arrived, the club was still very much in warm-up mode and the DJ in Berghain was playing quite
dark wave/Italo. It wasn't being put properly through its paces, and I had people to meet upstairs, so I navigated my way up the steel stairs and paid the Panorama Bar a visit. Although Berghain was in start-up mode, Panorama Bar was already flying: I made a concerted effort not to find out who was playing and instead hooked up with my friend and started dancing for hours – pausing only to buy a beer or take a quick
break on the wall seat at the back of the room, near the explicit art.
The crowd in Panorama was more mixed than in Berghain and I got chatting to a number of strangers. While the predominant house sound had a lighter touch, the sound system was just as crisp and powerful, picking up every element in a track, yet letting the dancers converse without raising their voice. I'm not a great trainspotter but I heard Mike Dunn's 'God Made Me Phunky' and Jon Tejada's 'Mono on Mono'
getting dropped. After a few hours, we descended to Berghain. Heiko MSO from Playhouse/Ongaku was on - annoyingly, I missed a live set by Sten - pushing the sound system to its limits. The bass was all-powerful, following you wherever you went. The relentless strobe augmented the sensory assault as the DJ played wave upon wave of heavy subs populated only by sharp percussion, ravey stabs and the
occasional breakdown. The only tune I recognized was Halo Varga's near-decade old tribal track 'Future', a strange record to hear in one of the world's supposed techno strongholds, but one that somehow fitted with the tripped out feeling and vaguely menacing underurrents.
We left the club at nearly 8am - before resident Len Faki came on and just as Berghain was really getting going and Panorama was heaving – but the previous night had been a very long one and we were all exhausted. Despite the door policy, the crowd, music, venue and sound system all combine to make Berghain an unforgettable experience. I'm sure it got messier later on and I didn't see any of the crazy antics the place is renowned for – mainly because I didn't go looking
for them – but I'll certainly be visiting the place again.
I had arrived in Berlin early on Friday and spent the best part of the day wandering around Mitte and then Kreuzberg, meeting Add Noise for a few coffees and a good chat. Later that afternoon, I finally got to visit Hardwax for the first time. I was only in the shop for 90 minutes - due to bad time planning on my behalf - so as pilgrimages go, it was too brief. Despite the impact the shop, and the associated Basic Channel/Chain Reaction operation, has had on my life over the past 15 years, the experience itself was relatively low-key and functional. Instead of gazing around in awe I got down to as much crate digging as time allowed and got my hands on the new Kenny Larkin album, the latest POM doublepack (apparently it's the work of one of the guys who works in the Space Hall record store), Omar S' 'Psychotic Photosynthesis' and an M.Pittmann release also on FXHE, Aroy Dee's ridiculously deep 'Summer' EP for MOS and two stunning releases featuring James T Cotton. The first, 'Electronic Justice' is as 2AM/Fm with D'Marc Cantu on Spectral and the other is 'Primitive Cypher’, an older X2/Saturn V affair on Relief, again with D'Cantu as well as Traxx. I didn't have the time to go through the Maurizio and Basic Channel back catalogue, but that missed opportunity as well as the pleasant, knowledgeable and very helpful staff - I hooked up with Sleeparchive for some beers and comfort food the following afternoon - left me longing to re-visit the store as soon as I left.
On Friday evening, a whole load of us, including Stephen, my kind host, Donnacha Costello and Function, headed to Watergate for the Wagon Repair/Cynosure party. There we met one half of Misc/Niederflur, PR and label people as well as Berlin's very own man about town, Substance. It was my first time in Watergate and the club's design, layout and sound system(s) are of a very high quality, more of a purpose-built club than Berghain. It also attracts a better-looking crowd - present company excepted – and it was pleasant to go out onto their pier-style outdoor area when things heated up inside. I wasn't downstairs to hear the Cynosure guys, but some of the Wagon Repair sets disappointed me. Konrad Black, playing off Traktor, seemed to be content to drop, to these ears at least, drab minimal techno/house, predicated on that bog-standard shuffle and heavily FXed percussion, yet whenever he dropped the bass for a few bars, it drove the crowd nuts. Maybe it just wasn't my thing. However, I also found Hrdvision's set pandered to the lowest common denominator for the dance floor, and by the time his brother Mathew came on, I was just too tired to fully appreciate what he was doing - even though I love some of his productions. Set of the night then came from the combination of Dedbeat and Tikiman. With basslines that rose through your chest and lodged in your gullet and Tiki's unmistakable, plaintive vocals, the sound system was used to its fullest capabilities during this performance. Maybe it was my frame of mind at the time, but I enjoyed this set the most - perhaps, like a lot of the best things about Berlin, its bold combination of the past and the present in an attempt to reach the future was intoxicating... Big shouts out to everyone I met over the weekend, especially Stephen for letting me stay and also to Jay, Roger, Jonas, Dave, Pete and to those missing in action - Lee, Mat and Melissa...
