National Geographic Traveller UK 10.2019

BERLIN BEAT

The city has long been

a muse for rock stars

DEPECHE MODE

Between 1983 and 1986,

the British band recorded

four albums at West Berlin’s

Hansa Studios, and in 1988

played East Berlin’s Werner-

Seelenbinder-Halle (the site

of the present-day Velodrom

cycling arena). Heavily

inluenced by German

industrial music, the group

featured German artist

Joachim Schmettau’s Hand

with Watch sculpture (found

in the Hansaviertel district)

in the video for their 1983

single Everything Counts.

NICK CAVE

Cave moved to Kreuzberg

in 1983. He arrived with The

Birthday Party, but ended

up putting together the Bad

Seeds here after meeting

German musician Blixa

Bargeld, who became the

group’s guitarist. They also

recorded at Hansa Studios.

LOU REED

The musician’s concept album

named after the German

capital was actually written

before he’d visited the city.

Later, in the mid-’70s, Reed

shared a lat in Schöneberg

with Bowie and Iggy Pop.

He’d hang out with the pair

at the Dschungel nightclub,

Berlin’s answer to New York’s

Studio 54. These days the

venue lives on as the classy

Ellington Hotel Berlin.

IGGY POP

Near the Schöneberg lat

Iggy shared with Bowie and

Reed is Neues Ufer, a gay

cafe-bar where they used to

hang out. A few miles to the

west in Charlottenburg is

legendary celebrity hotspot

Paris Bar. It was here Iggy

and Bowie were interviewed

by Rolling Stone in 1979 for

the infamous ‘Bad Boys in

Berlin’ feature.

Not cool enough to make it past the formidable doorman at Berghain, Berlin’s high

temple of techno? No worries — your bar crawl options in Berlin never run dry

As I look at it, the world is upside down. So are

the pictures. There’s a carpet on the ceiling

with a cofee table hanging beside it. I’m glad

that Madame Claude is the irst stop on my

Berlin bar crawl because if I walked into this

upside-down Kreuzberg bar anything other

than sober, I’d be worried I’d lost my mind.

The unsmiling bartender is at least the

right way up. He ofers me a choice of locally

made crat beers, before turning on the stereo.

I seem to have arrived a little early and the

smell of stale smoke has me wishing someone

would light a fresh cigarette. An acquired

taste it may be, but this is exactly the sort of

accessible, grimy joint that contributes to

Berlin’s cool reputation.

The next bar is the considerably more

reined Ora. This former apothecary is today

a slick restaurant and cocktail bar, but the

owners have drawn heavily on the building’s

pharmaceutical history, changing little of the

decor and mixing drinks in chemists’ beakers.

The original shelves and drawers, once used

for tinctures and potions, now house various

cocktail ingredients. The stools have been

allowed to rust; the loor-to-ceiling mirrors

have a time-worn charm.

While savouring my second sazerac, I ask

the barman about legendary Berlin nightclub,

Berghain. Housed in a former power plant

in Friedrichshain, the city’s techno mecca

has earned global notoriety for being both

brilliant and seemingly impossible to get into.

Is it worth me trying? “They say you should

wear black, and nothing too fancy, but...” He

shrugs. “Well, good luck.”

The next day, I ind myself queueing with a

few hundred other would-be clubbers, making

my way inexorably forward. It’s a slow process,

but, as the place opens at noon on a Friday

and stays open for 57 of the following 60 hours

— it closes on Saturday from 9am to midday

for cleaning and restocking — I’m conident

I’ll at least make it as far as the bouncers.

The queue is infamous enough to have its

own Instagram account, @BerghainLineLive,

designed to ensure clubbers wait as little

as possible before the axe falls on their

techo-scored dreams. They post updates all

weekend so if it’s particularly bad you can just

wait in a nearby bar until it’s calmer. Similarly,

if the bouncers are feeling lenient or there’s no

line, they’ll let you know.

Tonight, it’s busy, so I put my earphones

in, pick a Spotify playlist and try to convince

myself that, at 36, I still like this type of

music. Ater a few house tracks, I’m willing to

believe this will all be worthwhile, but then

worry that the earphones themselves might

somehow decrease my chances of getting in.

So instead I spend much of the 65 minutes

it takes me to get to the front dipping in

and out of the party chat around me. Much

of it is speculation about what may or may

not improve chances of entry. People frame

everything around what they’ll do if they get

in, not when. And their fates rest with Sven

Marquardt, the club’s head bouncer, who’s so

well known he has his own agent — although

this may be as much to do with his sideline

as a photographer.

If you think Berghain is what happens

when a place becomes too cool, I wouldn’t

disagree — although this is exactly the sort

of thing a bitter person who didn’t get let in

would say. Disappointed, but not defeated, I

shule of and explore Friedrichshain. And

it’s not as though I’m short of other options

— this city parties as late as any other on the

Continent and somehow manages to lure

people back out for day clubs, too. I settle for

a nightcap at the excellent Gin Chilla Bar.

With 387 varieties to choose from, I order the

local Berlin Urban Gin and sink into one of

its sot, low chairs. It’s been a strange evening

but it’s hard not to be struck by the German

capital’s conidence.

Yes, it works hard to perpetuate its

cool image and, no, Berghain isn’t the only

place that has long queues outside, but this

city gets under your skin. It’s the sort of

place you visit for ive days and quickly

begin wondering what the next ive years

will bring. JL

WORKING UP A THIRST

86 nationalgeographic.co.uk/travel

BERLIN