Unscene Berlin

The venue: an uncomplicated, abandoned-rail-arch-style club space with patio dance floor @ Jannowitzbrucke  The music: thumping, upbeat techno & spacey, breaky house.  The crowd: crammed but accommodating & dressed to cut loose. Mainly young and bright eyed, but mixed in with enough seasoned party faces to keep a 'college party' vibe at bay.  50/50 mix of guys and girls.  Few voyeurs. The crew: were like part of the crowd - unrepressive and enjoying the high spirits in the air The atmosphere: energetic, friendly and uninhibited, especially after the patio started to empty out around 6:00 p.m. and there was more space to move. Indoors was more club than open air, dark and striving for an industrial feel.  The time: started at 3 p.m. and it was still going strong at 10 p.m when we left. The cost: 5 Euros was a bit high for an open air party but not bad value for the size and indoor space. The sound: a bit ...

For people who come from anywhere other than Spain, waiting for clubs to open on a Friday or Saturday night in the winter can feel like Chinese water torture.  Things start late .  How late, you ask?  Imagine the time when you'd go home from a typical club back home and well, that's the time when you'll be expected to arrive at a club in Berlin.  And if you want to be there when the party is full-on, in some clubs it's better to arrive around the same time that you'd normally be waking up .   In the summer, there are glorious tree-filled green spaces to while away the endless pre-club hours by basking in the sun, drinking Sekt, flying kites, riding unicorns (at least, I thought it was a unicorn), but in the winter, there is nothing but bitter cold and bitter, bitter Berliners to fill the vacuum between dinner and dancing.  It's like waiting for Godot: an existential exercise in riding out an alien & arbitrary nightlife rhythm that refuses to adap...

This post isn't named after a stylish techno night founded by Sven Väth; it's a description of the way I feel after spending an entire week wrapped up in bedding with reading materials pressed to my face. I feel coccooned. My wings were clipped a few days ago because I had to have a bit of surgery to repair a tear in them. It wasn't major but almost overnight, I have been transformed from a nimble social butterfly to a lumpy caterpillar, too sluggish to even hump over to the next twig and sample a new leaf. What with it being spring now, there are new leaves in abundance too, budding all over the metaphorical party tree. I'm regretting the loss of my wings... whenever I can see anything beyond the hazy hull of sleep and painkillers, that is! As the weekend approaches I feel the usual metamophosis happening. The wings might not be fluttering but the senses still are.  If excitement is blossoming on your branch of Berlin I'd like to hear about it. I wanna know what ...

Berlin's club scene can be a bit blah in February and that's why, this week, I'm taking my hat off to party people that are making an extra effort to keep it surreal. It was bound to happen eventually: a night fusing clubbing with opera and classical music.  This Friday all of the above will be melted down into a fluid new concept at the abandoned pool venue of Stattbad Wedding , on Gerichtstrasse.     The clinical tiles of a pool space seem ideal for an hour-long original performance entitled Insanity, a " dark, disturbing tale of a woman’s descent into madness, as she struggles to deal with a mysterious and tragic event in her past," (well, the name was kind of a giveaway).  "The timeless theme of insanity will be explored, evoking the chaos of a tortured consciousness." Sounds like the average winter day's train ride to work, but at least this one should have a better-looking crowd. The opera will feature live music by Gesualdo, Hande...

English-speaking Berlin writers! Have you lived here more than a year? Do you have an serious interest in Berlin's activist, arts and music scenes? Then read on... I have been writing about subcultural events in Berlin for two years and am now about to launch a print zine which covers an expanded range of Berlin topics: activism, women's issues, tourism, the environment, expat life, independent film a nd theatre, arts, festivals, street parties, clubs, openairs, gigs, reviews... basically, anything that's shaking Berlin's subterranean communities to their foundations. You will work in collaboration with the editorial team to put the zine together and spread the word, so you should be dedicated and wiling to help with all aspects of publication. This is not going to be volunteer/internship - all contributors get a share of the revenues. Please get in touch before March 1st if interested and pass this info on to your writer friends. To apply, please send an introductory ...

Winter is the season when Berlin gets that famous post-apocalyptic look to it:   the streets are empty, the wrecked buildings that people used to work in loom visibly over the more discreet, tidy ones they now live in; everywhere you look, the city's mottled grey shell is exposed by bare branches.   In the streets, nothing seems to move except a few furtive pedestrians, camouflaged in dark clothes that blend in with the post-industrial grime.   The crows and sparrows are silent, saving their energy to keep warm; the pigeons sip spilled beer and peck fallen drugs outside of clubs to blot out their existential despair.   Even the trains seem to have a touch of winter blues as they sluggishly creak their way between stations.  It's a bit bleak, if you get my drift. These weather conditions are perfect for checking out an exhibition like X Lab’s solo show of Ken Plotbot's work , this Saturday the 26th.  The show's “ dark nuclear graphic and post industria...

Above picture by Katie Brook When I told my Berlin friends and colleagues that I was going to London for New Year’s, many of them stared at me like I was mad. “My Gott...  why ? It’s so expensive there!” said one. "The last time I went to London, it was about 25 pounds to get in to one club!” said another. Other comments I got were: “London parties there are great... but they always finish too early.” “You cannot drink in London. One Prosecco and you’re broke!” “And the men in the clubs there are slimy. They just don’t leave you alone.” I said the same thing to them all: "I'll be fine... I know places that aren't like that." I mean, who needs clubs when you have the squat party scene? Exhibit A: North London.  January 1st.  12:30 a.m.   My friend Al and I are sitting on a bus, headed to a gabba/breakcore/drum n’ bass party in an abandoned church in North London. Not a rented, renovated or otherwise gentrified old church, just a...