It’s 1:30 a.m. in Friedrichschain, I’ve just finished bartending and I want to go out and dance. I usually work the late shift on Saturdays in Samariter Kiez, which typically has me clocking out around 4:30 a.m., releasing me into the delightfully still Berlin streets which provide the perfect eerie ambience for a descent into clubland.
But tonight I’m off early (by Berlin standards, one-thirty in the morning is still early) and I’ve got my sights set on two events: An atypical drum and bass night called Recycle at Gretchen, and Berghain.
Two clubs in one night sounds like a bit much, like pointlessly sacrificing one consistent good party night in pursuit of two. Part of me feels like I should just pick one and commit, but another part of me feels that a big sound system double-feature is entirely possible.
DJ Storm
Game plan
DJ Storm, known as “The First Lady of Drum and Bass” is playing a Metalheadz night, the pioneering London record label she co-founded with Goldie and Kemistry, the releases of which first tickled my ear drums over twenty-five years ago and got me hooked on electronic music for life. I simply must go. But then there is also Berghain, and it’s been well over a month since I’ve last been (far too long) and I’ve never actually been during the beginning of the weekly Klubnacht (Berghain opens at midnight.)
After a trip to the Späti for a Wegbier (literally: way beer, or road beer, to be consumed on foot, en route) and a bit of strategizing, I come up with my game plan. It’s too early to go to Gretchen, as I really only want to see the headliner (DJ Storm) and she won’t be on for a while. I decide to walk over to Berghain, and if the line is manageable, I’ll try to get in, hang out for a bit, get a re-entry wristband for the next day and head to Gretchen, where I’ll close the night out.
After a relaxed walk towards Kreuzberg, the restaurants and bars become more and more sparse as I approach the monolithic de-commissioned power plant that many refer to as the Temple of Techno, Heaven and Hell. The industrial area surrounding Berghain is always creepily quiet and my heart flutters as a faint De-boomDe-boom-De-boomDe-boom starts to become audible. I turn left and walk through a pitch dark alley that leads to the north side of the club, turn left again and am confronted by an enormously long line that is not moving.
There are several markers by which one can measure the approximate length of wait for entry (or in many cases rejection) from Berghain. There’s The Snake (the metal railed thing that converts the vertical line of people into a back and forth horizontal path leading up to the door, about 20 minutes,) The Kiosk (a cylindrical structure that people put posters on, about 1 hour,) The Späti (an all night food and drink stand, about 1.5-2 hours) and Metro, or the area of sidewalk directly across from Metro, a wholesaler of food and beverages, 3.5 hours. The line is well past “Metro” which means, by my estimations, a solid 5 hour wait.
Gretchen is Berlin’s non-pretentious space
My decision made for me by the solemn, glacial procession of mostly-all-black wearing hopefuls, I head back to Warschauer Straße, jump on the U1 and journey deeper into Kreuzberg to Hallesches Tor. After another walk through the dark, with two frolicking rabbits as the only other pedestrians, I arrive at a markedly different scene. At almost 3 a.m., there is virtually no line to get into Gretchen. As I approach the door, I am smiled at and simply waved in immediately.
No DJ quiz, no “Deutsch oder Englisch?”, just an entirely casual “come on in” gesture. In fact, Gretchen is known for having one of the easiest doors in the city. As long as you aren’t visibly wasted (or underage) entry is pretty much guaranteed.
Exclusive Berlin nights out are indeed a thrill, but sometimes it’s nice to just like, you know . . . walk right into a venue.
Gretchen is also known as an alternative and non-pretentious space that doesn’t cater to the dominant culture of Techno that Berlin is traditionally known for, hence the all drum and bass line-up tonight and regular programming including electro, hip-hop and dubstep. Upon entering the giant, high ceilinged space, illuminated only by dim red neon-lights, the vibe is noticeably less serious than many Berlin Techno clubs. People are dressed very ordinarily as they bop up and down to the heavy bass lines and breakbeat rhythms. The bar staff is extremely friendly to me as I grab a beer and survey the parameters of the club.
Gretchen is quite big, with an elevated performance area that’s not exactly in the middle of the space, but situated far enough from the back wall so that you can stand behind it, giving one a feeling of being on stage with the DJ. The walls are lined with very comfortable banquettes for seating, which many people are dancing on. I walk through the club towards the toilets and access a much smaller room where another DJ plays dubstep. Smoking is allowed in here and the room feels very hot and cramped so after briefly checking it out, I head back to the main floor and happily discover that my timing seems to have been perfect: DJ Storm has just begun to play.
Big builds, big drops and rewinds
Over 50 years old and wearing a silver sequined dress that flickers in the neon lights, DJ Storm is indeed a force of nature, and proof that “rave music” is not necessarily something people grow out of. The crowd is also very diverse in their ages; at 42 I am by no means the only person here with gray hair. Over the course of two hours, she delivers a set containing many drum and bass classics I grew up listening to on mixtapes bought at illegal warehouse parties in Los Angeles.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a D&B party and the energetic contrast between Techno events, with long hypnotic DJ sets that exercise a slow building of tension over several hours, is strong. DJ Storm’s program is full of big builds, big drops and (of course) rewinds: the practice of stopping a track right after the bass drops and spinning the record backwards for a few seconds, creating a powerful vwoop-vwoop-vwoop sound before starting the song from the very beginning.
I watch the entirety of her set, inspired not only by her sustained passion for this music she helped put on the map but also by the crowd, who all seem to have come to this event just to see her. It is often the case that many Berlin scenesters go to clubs for the party and not necessarily the DJs, and while there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s nice to be in a room full of people who mostly seem to know their electronic music history.
Back to Berghain
She wraps things up at 5 a.m. I contemplate watching the next DJ, but decide to finish my night at Gretchen with the satisfaction of seeing the one act I came for and head on out to my next stop on what’s shaping up to be a very long night out: Berghain.
Upon arrival, the line is non-existent, and I am happily (and luckily) waved inside. Everyone from the queue before has either been admitted, or sent away into the night. Berghain is in full swing with all of its dark, Dionysian glory.
In the toilet, I run into my ex-bar colleague and Berlin raver friend who we’ll call Jean. He is shirtless, covered in tattoos (including a recent full back piece of an upside-down cathedral) and is carrying a banana. He is walking around smiling, telling random people they “have a telephone call” before offering them the banana.
“Jean!” I say. How are you?
“Ah, hello!” Jean says, giving me a warm hug. “Well, I . . . I have this banana.”
We laugh and I join him in approaching people, which turns out to be a fun way to make new friends.
I stay in Berghain until noon. On the way home I realize I’ve traveled from one end of the Berlin club spectrum to the other, from the easiest door to the hardest door, from a place that doesn’t care so much about Techno, to a space where people fly in from all over the world just to worship this sound that was born in Detroit and galvanized in Berlin.
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