“Techno has my heart; it feels like the unsilent rain. For some it’s much more than just sound, it’s passion, and dancing to its rhythm is divine. The underground feeling and its primitive form bring us closer to spirituality than any religion. Dancing in the dark pouring everything out—that’s what it represents. Dancing in RSO is the definition of what Paradise in Hell is”.
-Azha A.
DJ/Member of @berlin_underground_
I had only just met Azah and asked him, “What are you doing tonight?”
Warehouses, Club OST, RSO, Tresor; every weekend was spent all night at Berlin’s hottest clubs. In such brutal, grimy spaces—lights flash amidst thousands of dollar sound systems with all its attendants emerging as self-indulgent meat-masses of fleshy, flashy fun; hedonism at its finest. My first experience at Tresor was twofold: globalization is at play because the eclectic mix of beats echoed with influences not only from Berlin but resonated deeply with the roots of Detroit techno, creating a fascinating blend such that if I told any native Berliner I’m from Detroit, they would spew incomprehensible amounts of Detroit techno history. Otherwise, ‘space’ must be discussed concerning how the Berlin public sphere interacts with a need to cultivate individualized, communal space. This seems paradoxical, but at Tresor, thousands are on the dance floor all individually moving—however they desire—to the beat and bass. Amidst the pulsating beats, Tresor’s dance floor became a canvas for individual expression, where thousands moved freely, sculpting the space with their unique rhythms, creating a harmonious yet distinct collective experience. Briefly, this commentary will reflect the parallels between Detroit and Berlin regarding how Detroit techno moved to Berlin, leading to a globalized culture before the internet; second, I will consider scholarly work on public space and how that functions in an urban space, belonging to collective identity.
On globalization, there is an 032c article interviewing Mark Ernestus: founder of Hard Wax, a record store on Berlin-Kreuzberg’s Paul-Lincke-Ufer—a true temple and one of the most reputable distributors for techno, house, and dub. Ernestus would visit Detroit in the early 80s—sending back about 1,000 records from Chicago, New York, and Detroit—remarking, “The Detroit experience corresponded to the Berlin experience in a curious way. We thought it was nuts to sit in a restaurant with bullet holes in the window; they thought it was nuts to see World War II pockmarks and grenade hits on the façades of our buildings” (Dax, 2023). This dichotomy between the urban space and scars of violence between Detroit and Berlin underscores how globalization facilitates the exchange and intertwining of diverse urban narratives, fostering a shared understanding of unconventional urban landscapes, and contributing to a more interconnected global cultural dialogue. Moreover, after the Berlin Wall fell, “waves of people looking for something different from life came here from all over the world and revived Berlin’s reputation as an ‘unfinished city’ that offers infinite scope for creative activities” (Damm 2019, 3). In the wake of the Berlin Wall’s collapse, a transformative wave swept the city, drawing in people from diverse corners of the globe. Berlin, once labeled as an ‘unfinished city,’ became a canvas for creative souls seeking an escape from the mundane status quo.
Berlin was a ‘city-in-the-making’, filled with low money and high creative charge. People needed an outlet to live in the most contained space. Once the wall fell, liberation came from a need to access or to necessitate ease of accessing consumed space.
The Berlin Senate Department for Economics, Energy, and Public Enterprises offers a case study on club culture in Berlin, defining it as “a phenomenon whereby people meet at events in a protected space to dance, listen to music, and socialize” (Damm 2019, 7). Besides, the case observes club culture best through economic, esthetic, and social dimensions but overall, they function as parts that complete subculture, “a social practice often entail[ing] a differentiation between ‘underground’ and ‘mainstream’ with regard to esthetic and stylistic elements as semiotic features to delineate these subcultures from the mainstream” (Damm 2019, 7). Clubs like these nocturnal havens are not merely venues for music and dance but serve as crucial components shaping a distinctive subculture, challenging mainstream norms. In other words, a subculture reacts from a place of disadvantage to the majority culture. Ideally, clubs were spaces “where members of marginalized groups can move freely” because clubs served as an “escape from this everyday urban life” (Damm 2019, 14). Meaning, clubs function as a source of stimuli, refuge, and a creative laboratory. Although, how exactly does space connote such functions?
Arguably, the public sphere is the “realm in which people define themselves as publics, through ongoing communication, definition, and negotiation over their shared concerns” (Sargeson 2002, 21). If the public sphere is the communal body of public communication, then “the notion of space traditionally refers to something anonymous, whereas place distinctively accounts for the meaningful experience of a given site; that is, it is consumed space” (Visconti et al. 2010, 2). Space is an essential resource for club events; it must ensure that the space protects against unwanted outside influence (Damm 2019, 9). Thus, to conjure intimacy and exclusivity, the membrane that regulates entrance plays an important role—a door guarded by bouncers. If cities like Berlin and Detroit were built on industry and ‘newness’ only for years of destruction and violence in the past, then the “physical” and “imagined” aspects of a city are tainted with metal machines of war (Brown-Glaude 2008, 114). Rather, such industrial spaces morphed into shared, collectivistic appraisal of space between the artist and dweller creating a “dialogical recreation of public place”, or one’s “striving for commonplace” (Visconti et al. 2010, 6).
Otherwise, within the city, the urban place, clubs create a sense of belonging, where collective memories and shared identity in a space that seems liminal to home but is home to many. Patrons morph into self-indulgent spectacles of vibrant revelry, hedonism embodied. Any decision was theirs, and any movement their own; on such a dance floor, they truly felt like a family alone. Nocturnal escapades, where smoke and light blind you from what is front still make you feel connected to the place.
Amidst hedonistic essence, the dancer transformed into a self-indulgent spectacle; an embodied pursuit of pleasure—a mesmerizing fusion of liberated spirits under pulsating lights.
References
Brown-Glaude, Winnifred R. (2008), “Spreading Like a Dis/ease? Afro-Jamaican Higglers and the Dynamics of Race/Color, Class and Gender,” in Lived Experiences of Public Consumption: Encounters with Value in Marketplaces on Five Continents, ed. Daniel Cook, New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 111–36.
Damm, Steffen (2019), “Club Culture Berlin,” in Berlin Senate Department for Economics, Energy and Public Enterprises, 1-20.
Dax, Max (2023), “Berlin’s Sonic Mecca,” in 032c, https://032c.com/magazine/berlin-s-sonic-mecca-hard-wax.
Sargeson, Sally (2002), “The Contested Nature of Collective Goods in East and Southeast Asia,” in Collective Goods, Collective Futures in Asia, ed. Sally Sargeson, New York: Routledge, 1–24.
Visconti, Luca M. et al. (2010), “Street Art, Sweet Art? Reclaiming the “Public” in Public Place,” in Journal of Consumer Research 37.3, 511-529.