a lonely night in berlin

It’s 11:30pm and I’m pacing my room in Berlin waiting for my phone to charge. After my previous successful solo gig adventure, tonight is the night I was heading out past midnight alone for the very first time.

The night in question is at Watergate and the headline DJs are Pan-Pot, a German techno powerhouse duo. Watergate sits alongside the river next to Oberbaumbrücke and is famous for having its smoking area on the river itself on a pontoon. Its reputation is that it’s a more relaxed club with a less stringent door policy compared to its local cousin, Berghain and, as a less experienced Berlin clubber (before Watergate I had only Kit-Kat on my list), I thought my chances here were more reasonable.

As techno in Germany goes, it’s pretty elite, most notably in Berlin. Even those who don’t know much about electronic music culture have heard stories about Berlin’s epic nightlife. Upon telling friends and colleagues that I was spending a week there before Christmas, the first question I was always asked was “are you going to go out?” or “are you going to try to get into Berghain?”

To those who asked the latter, I chickened out. The tales of 4-6 hour long queues put me off. Imagine dedicating an entire evening to just be told “Heute nicht” (not today) when you eventually get to the front. Heart breaking.

What fascinates me most about the nightlife, however, is the culture of putting on smaller, lesser known artists as headliners. Whilst I do tend to lean more towards house music instead of techno, I would still class myself as someone who “knows a few names” in the techno scene. Yet, scrolling through Resident Advisor’s Berlin event schedule for the weekend I was there, I was fascinated to see so many names that I had never come across. Pan-Pot was probably the only name I recognised alongside the support act fka.m4a, a British DJ currently residing in Berlin.

Sensing an opportunity to see a DJ I know in a Berlin club with a supposedly reasonable door policy on my inaugural solo night out, I decided to go.

nerves

Back in my flat, it’s nearing midnight and I’m still pacing. In stark contrast to London’s scene, Berlin does not start early. My mum, who lived in Berlin in the 80s, warned me: “don’t get there too early! Places don’t often fill up before 2am.”

Tonight, Watergate was opening at midnight and closing at 10am. I baulked upon seeing the closing time, I am more used to London’s nights starting at 11pm and ending at 5am.

“That’s outrageous”, is the reply of a friend of mine after I post a screenshot of said times in a group chat. “Jesus wept”, says another.

Yet Berlin queues are not synonymous with Berghain. I’ve heard tales of many clubs having lengthy wait times and stringent door policies so the prospect of standing alone in a queue for a while had me thinking that perhaps an earlier entry would suit me better. Getting denied won’t feel as bad if the wait was 10 minutes compared to potentially an hour.

And then there’s the dress code. Watergate is supposedly relaxed on this again, but I was taking no chances. My attire tonight consists of the blackest pair of cargo trousers I own (specifically packed for this very possibility), a black graphic t-shirt, a black quarter zip jumper, my grandfather’s old black vinyl-esque jacket, and a pair of Dr Martens. If you’re new to the Berlin scene, black is the way to go.

At this point you must be questioning whether I’m overthinking this.

See, another big difference between London’s and Berlin’s scenes is the ticketing policy. London lives on tickets. Without a ticket, you can’t get in, and more and more events in recent years in London have sold out way in advance of the event itself. Whilst this can be frustrating in that you often need to be prepared for presale links months ahead of time and that sometimes your whole crew may not get tickets. It does mean that as long as you’re not a complete arse at the front of the queue, you’re pretty much guaranteed to get in as long as you have a ticket.

Berlin sells tickets on the door. With some events, it is still possible to get tickets in advance but it’s often accompanied with a big announcement saying something along the lines of “a ticket does not guarantee entry” and “door staff may refuse entry to ticket holders”. So at the end of the day, it’s down to the bouncer to grant entry to those in the queue. And if you’re deemed to not be a good fit for the club in one way or another, you’re not getting in.

How could you not be intimidated by this?

time to go

At 12:10am, I call it. Grabbing my phone I head out the door and down to the UBahn. Fortunately, I was staying on the U2 line so it was a direct train to Schlesisches Tor, whose name is an exercise for any keen German learners to try to pronounce.

On the train, the nerves are only climbing. I feel out of place totally clad in black surrounded by folks in more regular clothing. Almost like I’m wearing a sign that says “look at me I’m going out in Berlin tonight!”. I’m missing my London night out crew and yearn for the same excitement I am usually filled with when en route to an event. Instead, I’m filled with nerves. Lots of them.

The train arrives at Schlesisches Tor and I grab a packet of cigarettes from the local Späti at half the price they are in the UK. One of the biggest learnings from my clubbing experiences is that the best way to strike up a conversation with a randomer is in the smoking area, far from the pounding music inside. Top tip, you can make this even easier by “forgetting your lighter”, asking someone who looks approachable for one instead, and initiating a conversation from there. I don’t actually smoke, but I make an excuse while I’m here. After all, clubbing is more fun with friends even if you’ve only known them for an hour or two.

Watergate sits right at one end of Oberbaumbrücke and its iconic W logo is clearly visible on the side of the building. I made the right call coming early as the queue is growing rapidly under the overpass above the road. Joining it, I notice a few people looking up at the underside of the overpass. Pointing my gaze upward, I am amused to see a full fleet of pigeons perched in the eaves, raining fecal hell on those below. We all dart to the sides to try to avoid the falling excrement.

A few of us joke about newcomers to the queue not seeing the pigeons and getting caught up in the crossfire and I realise the two people next to me also came solo to the event. I ask them about how long they’ve been in Berlin and they both admit they’ve not been here long. One from Switzerland and one from the USA. Someone once told me that Berlin is a city of and for immigrants and I was seeing it with my own eyes tonight.

Getting to the door, this was the moment of truth. Was I going to get in? Being able to speak German is easily the biggest advantage getting into clubs here. The Brits don’t exactly have a great reputation as tourists and I am lucky enough to have German family, so I do my best to speak German to the bouncer. Unfortunately, she must have heard me speak English in the queue and replies in English. I remember beginning to sweat thinking my ruse had been rumbled. The bouncer gives my outfit a long and hard look, then says “okay, put stickers on your camera please” and I grab a few of the stickers printed with the Watergate logo and put them on my phone cameras, turning it over to show the bouncer proof that I’ve done it.

Then I head inside.

watergate

I pay my entry (€25), get patted down and continue through. I was in! Looking back now, it’s easy to say that I had worked myself up and had been overthinking how hard it was. But at the time, I didn’t want this night to be ruined before it had even started.

My new found friends and I quickly end up losing each other after dropping off our coats in the cloakroom. I had a feeling this would happen so I grab myself a beer and do the tour.

Downstairs has a small stage and dance floor at the back, surrounded by an array of lush leather sofas. A large, double sided bar by the entrance meant that I wasn’t waiting long for a drink. Downstairs was for house music tonight and the floor was filling up fast. Walking over to the staircase next to the dance floor, I make my way upstairs. I’d heard good things about the main room and wanted to see it for myself.

I enter to one side of the DJ booth and the room is in full flow already. The booth sits at one end of the long room with a second booth behind it for revellers to dance in. A long light array goes from the wall behind the dancing booth, up to the ceiling, and then along the entire room to the bar at the back. It feels intimate with slanted beams coming up from the floor by the walls into the room, almost like eaves in an attic.

At this point I want to talk about the river. When I say it’s right next to the club, I mean it comes up right to the base of the building. Both the upstairs and downstairs rooms have glass walls facing the river and you can see it flow below you. I could only imagine what seeing a sunrise through those windows would look like. The club’s proximity to the river is a totally unique experience.

After a while I decide I want to check out the fabled smoking area and head back downstairs then out the door and over the small bridge to the pontoon. It feels surreal to be standing on it. A tiny bar at one end and the wide and comfy sofas nestled under large umbrellas make me think it would be a good place to visit in summer time.

I happen to come across my Swiss friend from the queue and we get chatting over a few smokes. We share stories about electronic music culture from our respective hometowns; London and Zurich. The weather is pleasant, and the light lapping of the water against the pontoon makes for a very peaceful environment. The smoking area quickly made itself my favourite part of the club.

Heading back inside, we make our way upstairs and get groovy to Pan-Pot.

tourists

Above, I mention that Watergate is known to be a bit “touristy” and it is upstairs in the club where I really begin to feel it.

Now, I’m not referring to just normal tourists here, I’m referring to what I call “clubbing tourists”. To me, these are the people that don’t normally attend electronic music nights and are attending one either because the place is known for clubbing or it’s an electronic music artist whose music has hit the mainstream charts (think Fred Again).

I’ve not got anything against people attending electronic music nights for the first time, in fact, I encourage it. I love inaugurating people to the scene and witnessing their first time reactions. However, some behaviours of those not used to the scene can be frustrating.

The most notable frustration is a tendency for clubbing tourists to form circles on the dance floor. Back in London, this is a staple in places like Infernos or The Swan, where you’re there to have a good time with your friends and sing along to the music. The focus in those places are on the people you’re there with. In electronic music nights, I’d argue the focus is instead on the music and the artist performing so priorities change. Instead of optimising for space amongst you and your friends, space is optimised so the largest number of people can see the DJ and get within the speakers to get the best sound. This is often done by having everyone face the DJ.

Back on the Watergate upstairs dance floor, this is exactly what happens to a group that are standing right next to me. I can’t help but chuckle. Moving to the side a little I give them the room they desire and continue on with my night.

Another frustrating behaviour of so-called clubbing tourists is not abiding by club policies. As mentioned before, Watergate tapes up cameras and has plenty of signs around the place warning that anyone found taking pictures or recording videos will be expelled from the premises.

So it comes as a complete shock to me to witness one of this neighbouring group using her phone for a solid 30 minutes to try to facetime what must be her boyfriend. Her cameras are taped up for sure, but her screen brightness is set to full and it is blinding not only me but others around us.

Not sure how much he actually heard with 140bpm techno beats thundering in the background, but I admire her audacity to whip out her phone in a place like that.

back to the music

Frustrations aside, I am having a whale of a time dancing upstairs. The narrow room does make it a little tight for space sometimes, but the light show made up for it dazzling us all with spectacular displays.

My Swiss friend and I jaunt downstairs to check out fka.m4a in action. The smaller dancefloor makes for an even more intimate space and a collection of LED tubes light up the ceiling above us. House music is easily my favourite style of electronic music, and this room is filled with it tonight. People are even dancing on the sofas.

For the rest of the night, we bounce around from room to room to smoking area, revelling in the music and atmosphere of the place. Outside, we end up chatting more about our clubbing experiences. I tell him about the immensity of Drumsheds and he shares other club recommendations in Berlin for when I next return.

Back upstairs, I look down at my watch to see the time approaching 5am. I know that the club is to continue for a few more hours, but I’m shattered at this point so take my leave.

final thoughts

Sitting on the UBahn on the way back to my flat for the week, I’m glad I made it out. As mentioned above, I was preemptively overthinking the entire experience and working myself up but now I feel way more confident in doing something like this again. It’s almost like I’ve unlocked an entire new way of experiencing culture. Experiencing it alone.

There’s something oddly peaceful about being alone in a club. It almost feels quite selfish to be there freed from the social responsibility of looking after a group of people. And if you ask me, that’s a good thing. I went for music and dancing, and I got music and dancing and I could dedicate my entire night to what I wanted. The fact that I made a friend there doesn’t change this. It was a beautifully fleeting low-effort friendship, formed purely from the desire to dance with someone. You could say us spending time together that night was a selfish act from both of us.

I’m approaching my stop now and my feet are tired. I slowly trudge my weary body back to the flat and get ready for bed. It’s a shame that it’s Sunday tomorrow as very little is open in Germany on Sundays.

Guess I’m having takeaway for breakfast.