Some whim just lead me into the arms of record label Ostgut Ton, soundkeeper of the Berghain beat. The Berghain, my uninitiates, is like boiling the essence of Berlin nightlife down into a single techno track, storing it in a huge, bare ex-warehouse, mixing in a little leather, and turning the volume up very, very loud. I only enjoyed the nightlong party for one happy Friday last summer, but it fixed itself hard in my mind, and I'd give anything to go back for another round.
And now I've found its record label. Techno is mine for the taking. Come to think of it, the Berghain and its sister Panoramabar also have a myspace with free music downloads. It gets better and better. And just as I have started looking in earnest for music to play with for my dance show this spring.
Oh yes. And why can I supply you with no photographs of the club interior? Because cameras gets strictly confiscated by its bouncers, who look to exclude anyone less than amenable to its sexual landscape and alternative character. Any kind of reflective surface is likewise banned. No visual judgments. Just joys. A huge, cavernous first level fills with smoke and industrial pipes, while the second level's more intimate bar serves drinks and ice-cream as the beat goes on. And on. And on.