Last weekend, the first club I've ever visited closed its doors permanently. Is this a sign that I am getting old? This year marks the 10th year of me going out to techno events, and especially in this scene the following applies:
All places are temporary places
A lot has changed in those years, but I still vividly remember the clueless 16-year-old me nervously getting ready for my very first night out.
Prologue
Only a few weeks prior, I stumbled across a mini-documentary series on YouTube about some of the most important places for electronic music in Berlin. I was in shock. Previously, the only electronic music I knew was Tiesto and some other EDM stars. And those never performed in Berlin, only in Las Vegas or at big festivals. So in my mind, partying in Berlin was boring — oh was I wrong!
Those YouTube videos introduced me to techno for the first time, and I was immediately hooked. The 2000s rave tracks from Westbam underlying images of millions of people dancing at the Loveparade just put goosebumps on my skin. I pressed the button to see the next video. Two and a half minutes, quickly talking about this legendary record store, that was the first one to import techno music from Detroit to Germany: Hardwax
At that point, nothing could stop me from visiting that place. I forced my dad to drive with me for over an hour across the city just to walk up a fucked up stairway full of graffiti and stickers, and end up in a store stacked with vinyl, even though at that time I didn’t even have a turntable.
To say it overwhelmed me would be an understatement. When I went through the boxes, collected covers that looked nice, and sat down to listen to the music, my ears, which were only used to EDM, got confused. 45 or 33 RPM? Is this how it should sound? It’s so monotone, without any constant beat… and where is the big drop? In the end, I managed to find two records that I liked:
- Rawax: Alex Danilov — Rain
- Panaromabar 03: Steffi — Sadness
Especially the Panorama Bar record moved me. From there on I went to record stores every weekend, discovered new labels, asked the employees for recommendations, and started to develop my very own taste. From there on I was constantly broke spending all my saved-up money on new releases. But I was fine with it. This was my nerd heaven. There was no one at school I could talk to about this because at that time I only had very few friends, none of whom shared this passion. “Why are you collecting records? Aren't those things ancient?” It was something purely for myself. Until one day I casually overheard a conversation in a record store about some clubs and events which set the initial spark.
Chapter 1
This was it. I finally decided to go out. An artist from one of my most recent vinyl purchases was performing at Kater Holzig. It was the successor to the legendary Bar 25 and the predecessor of today's Kater Blau. I previously visited that place, but only during the day when they did fleamarkets or performed theater plays. During those, it already felt like a magical place. However, this time I wanted to experience Kater as a club! All the crazy artwork in there that I’d seen by day, sculptures of white mice crawling up the walls, colorful murals … Now the only thing left to see was the dancefloor!
But I needed to pass the door and get in there as a 16-year-old. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any older friends or siblings from whom I could borrow an ID — it was a solo mission. In the end, the plan was simple: a forged copy of my passport, arriving early, and going alone to be as inconspicuous as possible. A group of teenagers is always more suspicious than someone going solo. Surprisingly, my parents were fine with my little adventure and didn’t mind that I had no one joining me, as long as I followed one simple rule: no drugs and no alcohol! Additionally, I was forced to take an old Nokia with me, because at that time I didn’t even use a mobile phone, let alone a smartphone.
Speaking of being up to date. When I think back, a dress code wasn’t a thing. At least not something that I was aware of. In a way kind of a naïve thought, but one I recently am missing more and more. Just not caring or being over-influenced by social media, about “the style of the scene”. Some dark jeans, so it wouldn’t be visible if I sit down somewhere dirty. A hoodie that I could tie around my waist in case I got cold. And some comfy, fucked up sneakers for dancing. This was my uniform to go out in Berlin.
Chapter 2
My whole body was shaking when I exited the train station. The walk to the club was only a few minutes long. I knew the way, but what I didn’t know was, if my plan would be successful. Then I reached the big wooden fence that indicated the entry to Kater Holzig. Behind it was a small patch of wasteland you needed to cross to get to the actual club entrance. Those 50m seemed so unreal to me. Finally, I was going to experience the place where the music I loved truly belonged. Neither the rainy November nor the darkness could irritate me. I passed a small wooden shed with colorful lights on it blasting some tunes — the legendary Kiosk. Some people were standing there sharing a beer. In Ave, I looked at them while continuing to walk, before I suddenly found myself in the queue to enter. There were only 2 or 3 people in front of me. But one of them the bouncer asked about their age to which they replied 19. “Well, sorry! Our club is 21 and over. Bye!” I was paralyzed! My whole plan, my “documents” … But I didn’t have time to think. I was next. “Hey, do you know this place?” “Yes” I stuttered, “I’ve been here a few times already”. The bouncer skeptically looked at me. “How old are you?” “Well, I am 18” I replied, knowing fully well that I had no way to prove anything if I would claim otherwise. “Sorry, we’re 21 and over” “But there is this DJ playing today I really want to see…” It was pointless. I got bounced.
A feeling of sadness flooded me. Standing there on the rainy night, access denied to the music I enjoyed so much. I was not ready to give up yet! Luckily, I prepared a Plan B when I was at home. Only 10 minutes away from Kater was this club called “Fiese Remise”. It seemed perfect, with two floors and a DJ that also played similar music: David Dorad
When I arrived there my initial feeling was confusion. On one outside wall was a light sign that translated to “Brothel”. But the entry itself wasn’t through the door underneath, it was through a bus that looked as if it had crashed into this old hut. I should have been less surprised, because “Remise” translates to shed and the name alone indicates a gnarly location. But there I was, entering the bus, walking up the 2 steps before I stopped where usually the driver sits. “Hey, how are you doing? Today's entry is 7€, but we have just opened. It is still empty”. “That’s fine with me, I just don’t want to wait in the cold”. The cashier smiled at me and that was it. No questions about my age, my outfit, my ID. I was in!
Chapter 3
I walked through the bus and exited from the back door into a warm, dimly, but colorfully lit common area. Nowadays that first impression I had reminds me so much of student pubs and less of a proper club. Old and abused couches, table football, a wood oven that the guests needed to keep an eye on, if they didn’t want to freeze, and graffiti, tags, stickers everywhere. This place had charm and I immediately loved it!
I left my jacket at the wardrobe and walked over to the bar. Everything looked so rough and damaged, but it worked and formed an aesthetic environment. I ordered an energy drink and was dedicated to keeping the promise I gave my parents. Speaking off… I pulled out my Nokia and began tipping a message that I was safely in the club. When I lifted my eyes from the screen I saw a big bright sign hanging over the bar which translated to: “Drink, drink, drink — puke on everything”. I liked this place.
But what to do now? It was time to sit down for a bit and watch people enter the place. In a way, I was overwhelmed. I’ve never been a social person. Karl May and his books about cowboys, video games, and the newest tech — that was what I was into. Life seemed easier when I withdrew myself from all the high school drama and social pressure, and yet there was something within me that wanted to learn how to break out of that introverted shell. Deep inside, I knew that this couldn’t be what life was about, that I wanted friends, I wanted to be able to just go up to people and talk to them. I don’t know if I wanted to be the center of the party — I still don’t know to this day — but I certainly wanted to be a part of it. Not only a quiet bystander!
However, on this very first night out, I was sitting there alone. Without any social skills. Without a clue what to do or how to behave. So I did the only thing that came to my mind. At some point I stood up, walked over onto the dancefloor and even though it was still empty, I began dancing. During that moment it didn’t matter that it was only me, what mattered was, that I could let myself fall into the music. I couldn’t believe it, when after a while others joined me, threw smiles and started to dance as well. At no point was there any judgment or anyone making fun of me. Intuitively I’ve done the right thing: a friendly attitude toward the other guests and a display of honest joy. By this, the dancefloor became my safe space. Somewhere I could go when I wanted to let myself fall. When there wasn’t anyone present whom I knew. When I didn’t know what else to do.
The sound system played a major role. Never before have I experienced something as powerful as this. That system finally provided the feeling in the gut that techno required. A punch to the stomach where instead of pain, a deep pleasure radiates through the body and puts goosebumps on the skin. It was a self-build system with dozens of speakers hanging from the ceiling. At first, I couldn’t even pinpoint where the sound was coming from exactly. I only noticed how it hugged me, lured me in, and gave my body the energy to move further and further. Then came the lighting. At first sight, it looked random and messed up. Exposed light bulbs pulsing to the beat, a wall of old CRT TVs flickering on the sides, and a surgical light behind the DJ that acted as a strobe. By now, I was fully delusional. Hours passed as I was dancing, surrounded by people, lulled in by the lights. Everyone moved to the same rhythm, which made the room form an inclusive body that acted all together. When the beat stopped and the break of a track began, the body slowed down. Suddenly, all feet were still. Then, gradually the highs came in and the tempo increased, hands moved up, before unavoidably the beat came back and the body woke up again. Ecstatic movements, stomping, clapping, and dozens of cheerful faces from everyone participating. It was such a relief to experience that. During day-to-day life, I struggled to even look people in the eyes. Yet, here everyone was welcoming, smiling, and spreading positive vibes that I caught on as well.
Chapter 4
Even though it was hard to leave, at some point my body gave in and forced me to take a break. Returning to the entry area, I sat down again. Still buzzing, I was unsure if what I experienced was real. It felt so dreamy that for a moment I questioned if something was put into my drink. How could I otherwise feel so light-headed and otherworldly? Was this all only caused by me being in this environment? Yes, it was impossible that there was any drug involved as I thought about it — my drink never left my eyesight. So it was the lighting, the atmosphere, music, sleep deprivation, and all the other subtle details that came together and caused this delusional feeling inside of me.
Sitting on the couch, I slowly acclimatized myself. Here and there, someone came up and asked if I was doing well, which felt incredibly thoughtful. But I was fine. It just took me a bit to get used to all of this. And when I did, I began noticing that to the right of me regularly people walked down a set of stairs to an area I haven’t seen yet. So I stood up and walked over. There weren't many steps, but it was still a steep decline. Light chains and old TVs were lying under the metal stairway illuminating it. Walking down, I noticed how instantly it became 2 or 3 degrees colder. And there was something else: the smell. It reminded me of an old, forgotten, and slightly moldy bunker. Wetness was in the air, and even though people smoked inside, this greenish note of that basement covered everything.
As I reached the last step, I turned left and immediately caught sight of the DJ, who stood surrounded by two massive speakers in front of an LED wall. I couldn’t imagine that the feelings I had upstairs would get more intense …. but this bunker was something else. Everything in here was a one-up. Smaller ceilings created a claustrophobic, yet (positively) more intense feeling of togetherness. Big strobe lights instead of light bulbs, which flashed with such energy that I needed to recollect myself after each time they lit up. But primarily, it was the sound system that elevated this floor. A massive Turbosound stack — the predecessor of Funktion One. With their distinct design, they put the focus on their horn drivers, which were bigger than my head and reminiscent of ship horns. This was not only an optical treat. When a fat bassline came in, it felt as if a cruise ship was in front of one blasting for departure. Deep frequencies that shook your whole body, and could be felt everywhere from the feet up to the ears. This was the exact feeling on the bunker dancefloor and it burned into my memory. There I was, hooked for the second time tonight, moving to the hypnotic tracks played by David Dorad.
Chapter 5
When I decided to go home, I found myself drenched in sweat, feeling exhausted, dealing with a sticky mess in my mouth from all the soft drinks I had consumed, and annoyed by the thought of the one-hour train ride that still awaited me. But all negative feelings disappeared once I reached the exit of the club and opened the bus doors to leave this magical place. It was a cold Berlin morning I stepped into. My breath was visible when I exhaled and it was a stark contrast to the cozy and warm oven on the inside. However, what took me by surprise was that it was bright! The sun was up and there was no cloud in the radiant blue sky. How could that be? Isn’t the sunrise already quite late at this time of the year? I pulled out my Nokia. 9 o’clock. Time went by and I didn’t even notice it. This dark and dirty place brought me the escape from reality I desired so deeply. It shut me off. A reset to my brain. All those intense feelings mixed with some tracks that had been stuck in my head from the dancefloor flooded my brain as I walked over to the train station.
From this day on, I tried to sneak into the Fiese Remise as often as possible, which turned out to be every 3–4 weeks. Finally, I found a place where I was anonymous, all by myself, and that functioned as my social playground. I still went alone, which threw a lot of people off. But by that, I learned how to interact with strangers. How to look them in the eyes, smile at them, and even how to start a conversation with some small talk. It never went further than that back then, but this laid the foundation for what came in the years after. This place showed me a safe environment, where it was fine to come alone to interact with new people because everyone here was looking after each other. After all, we shared the same love for good techno music. Our common ground! Which made it different from the dynamics I knew from school. There, cliques existed, and it always mattered that you were popular to get invited. And for what? That you ended up at a party where the main focus was to get drunk, encouraged by a bunch of ego-driven adolescents. No thanks, the Berlin underground scene was my preferred choice from that night on.
Epilogue
Fiese Remise changed, and I would lie if I said I wouldn’t wish to go back in time, to experience the old set-up. The Turbosound system, the naïve thrill I used to get when sneaking into the club and dancing till the morning, fuelled by nothing but caffeine. Not caring about dress code or door policy and having the feeling that every night brings a new, previously unknown learning. Unfortunately, that’s impossible.
The Turbosound got replaced and sold off. What used to be a rundown entrance area resembling a scrape yard got rebuilt into a nice garden. The old regulars who were in their mid-twenties back then are well into their thirties now and probably have other responsibilities than clubbing. New guests came, then different music and new management, till finally — maybe unavoidably — the club was forced to shut down. Because in the end, all places are temporary places!
Nonetheless, I am thankful. If this first night hadn’t happened like it did, if it hadn’t been such a warm welcoming vibe into the techno scene, I don’t know how things would have gone. Those nights in 2013/4 have taught me the basic etiquette of the scene and by adapting them, I was more than welcome to become a part of it.
The Fiese Remise had to shut down temporarily in 2014 because of noise complaints. During that time, I explored some other Berlin venues before I found my new home at Watergate. It felt as if I had leveled up in a video game and spawned in a new area I hadn’t seen previously. However, now I already knew how the basic game mechanics worked and it became easier to play. A year later I moved to Munich and once again found myself in a completely new zone, where all the experience paid off. I knew how to integrate myself, and how to look for people with the same interests and values (even outside of parties), and found an incredible set of friends.
It’s sad to see Remise being forced to close due to an investor who hopes for a better payoff from the real estate. Once more, gentrification plays out in front of our eyes. Luckily, I revisited the place with some good friends for the very last time a few weeks before it shut down. The evening was amazing and this final dance brought peace to my heart. I hope that in the future small/medium-sized clubs still manage to survive and provide new joiners a welcoming place. They are the opposite of those huge, anonymous, and commercial events: Welcoming. Never elitist. But most importantly, a safe space for all those who share the passion for underground music, subculture, and meeting new people.
