Opinion / Louis Harnett O’Meara
Rave reviews
It was on my third attempt that I was waved into Berghain. The infamous Berlin nightclub (pictured) had been described to me, in slightly cringeworthy terms, as a “cathedral for techno”. But as I entered I was struck by a fact that had been obscured by the former power station’s extensive mythology: ultimately, it’s just a club. Not even a cavernous warehouse but a two-rooms-for-dancing affair with a couple of bars, a reasonably sized smoking area, a few hidey-holes for unsavoury acts (it is a fetish club, after all) and a healthy number of wide-eyed revellers. Not much else.
Of course, it isn’t just the space that makes a venue special; it’s the identity of it. Besides the people you might imagine being there (statuesque men and women wearing sunglasses and little else) Berghain, like many of Berlin’s nightclubs, is home to a world of waifs and strays who come from abroad to exercise freedoms they do not have at home, staying up until 10.00 the following morning to dance to the club’s propulsive music, often on their own. The bouncers are famous for their monosyllabic rejections but it’s not because someone is or isn’t “cool enough” – it’s because the bouncers are gatekeepers of a cultural haven.
In 2016, Berghain received its licence as a venue for high culture rather than mere “entertainment”, protecting it from unwelcome developers and hefty taxes. It seems that the ruling set a precedent. Last week Germany’s parliament, the Bundestag, agreed that all of the country’s clubs could apply for cultural licences, provided they demonstrably focus on nurturing the arts. It’s an overdue acknowledgement of this countercultural world’s importance and assures that a healthy undercurrent of anti-authoritarian irreverence will continue, safeguarded, in Germany. Just don’t be sore if, when you pay one of these clubs a visit, the bouncer’s quick response is “nein”.