Living in Berlin and being indifferent to electronic music is like living in Italy having never tried pasta: you're missing out on something fundamental to the culture if you don't partake at least once. So I recently went to the city's most fabled club, Berghain, with a friend who is a Sunday regular, because it seems everyone I know in Berlin who takes their Berghain-ing seriously goes on Sundays, typically arriving in the late morning, as though headed to church.
And well, Berghain is a church of sorts, a place people love and fear and go to looking for solace and transcendence in the form of solitary togetherness in dance and … It's also a liminal space, one its owners fiercely protect (photography is strictly forbidden). Given that the club is a huge draw for weekend Easyjetters as part of the gestalt-brand that is “Berlin,” it's kind of remarkable that Berghain has remained intact as a space of carefully constructed freedom. But, as with churches, there's also something slightly conformist and codified about the space, too (amid all the black trench coats and ripped stockings, probably the most radical thing you could do is show up [and manage to get in] to Berghain wearing high heels or a three-piece suit).
Although my favorite genre of music is soul, thanks to other people's curiosity and passion (shout out and a big thank you to Rodney Wilhite for the musical accompaniment this week), I'm slowly beginning to discover that I like some electronic music—early Detroit deep house, especially (and well, one of my favorite songs of nostalgia is this early 90s track by Crystal Waters—I remember dancing 'across-the-floor' combinations to the song as a preteen in jazz class, and my heart did a leap of recognition when Roderick George played it during a contemporary class last year—I hadn't heard the track in some twenty-odd years). So when my friend and I went that Sunday we bypassed the main room, which features techno and minimal electronic music, and headed straight for the adjacent Panorama bar, where the DJs play house and electro. As we entered, a house remix of Marvin Gaye's “Inner City Blues (Makes Me Wanna Holler)” was playing, and I mentally genuflected to the genius that is his music. We moved toward the front, by the DJ, a small vibrant woman with Scandinavian features, whom I later learned was the Swedish pop wonder Robyn. Her entire set was exuberant and soul- and pop-driven, with enough loops and variations present in the musical structures to remain compelling to dance to; it was imbued with joy.
Thanks for being with me this week.
Yours, Kathleen