#24 __ techno is more than this

Everyone in the techno community shares that hunger for a venue we can take pride in. A place that inspires awe and curiosity from the moment you step inside. Spaces with complexity and intrigue, that have a strong, unmistakable identity. Staff that make you feel welcome, safe, and comfortable.

This is part of why people can’t help but talk about Berlin. There is nothing in this world like dancing in the bowels of a power station, of crawling around the catwalks and corridors of a grain mill. These spaces invite you into their alternate reality, they encourage you to stay, and they become true playgrounds for exploration and expression. The people working these clubs understand the role they play in this experience. They get it.

So we all felt the anticipation when Basement was revealed: a club carved from the remains of a glass factory. It’s a little labyrinth of concrete with lots of nooks and crannies to retreat into. The flow around the venue is smooth — it’s easy to navigate, but it still has form and structure. It feels raw and indestructible; it won’t flinch against a relentless onslaught of hard beats and stomping feet. The sound is rich, even if uneven. It’s a place with obvious and exciting potential.

The opening night began with unified exhilaration. All the heads came out to see the local heroes consecrate this space as ours. It was particularly special to see Ne/Re/A open, because she was one of the first DJs I found in Brooklyn when I started going out. Seeing her go from that tiny basement at Tilt to commanding the decks at Basement was a pure joy.

But after two nights there, these initial thrills have faded. For all the potential of this venue, the soul of it feels closer to the commercialism of Output than the welcoming underground of Tresor.

Techno is not bathroom attendants selling mouthwash and gum. It’s not patdowns where they squeeze every pocket and ask you to pour your shit out onto a table. It’s (usually) not $5 waters and coat check, and it’s never $17 matte vodkas. And no, no, no, it is definitely not security getting into pissing contests with drunk dudes because they don’t know how to de-escalate a situation.

There’s smaller issues, too — phones all over the dance floor, the lack of seating inside, the inefficient bathroom setup creating massive lines (why are there no urinals?!), no re-entry allowed. Together, all of these details create a divorced feeling — there’s glorious sounds over here, but when you step away, there is something that must be endured, discordant moments and feelings that clash with the spirit of the music.

But for me, there’s also something deeper than just these details of implementation.

Techno can be more than 130 beats per minute of four-on-the-floor with clean transitions every few minutes. It doesn’t have to be black t-shirts and black jeans and black shoes. It doesn’t need to be hard and cold and indifferent.

There’s nothing wrong with this vision. This is what many people want for their experience. But techno can be spontaneous and surprising. It can be smooth and slow or blisteringly fast and broken. It can be dark and hard one moment, then joyous and uplifting the next. It can be colorful and expressive.

I just don’t see where the full range of techno would fit in at Basement. Maybe it doesn’t. The scene is thriving, and perhaps it’s large enough now that we can have a whole venue dedicated to the dark side of techno. But it all seems like a missed opportunity, to me.

Thank you so much for reading.

previously on outer ][ space:

• #23 __ the narrative
• #22 __ the venue
• #21 __ party friends

Next weekend I’ll be at Movement for the first time.