10-08-2022

We got in. My heart was pounding, and I thanked Mono because, without him, it wouldn’t have been possible. We were inside Tresor after an hour of waiting. We were inside one of the most iconic techno clubs in history. It’s built in the basement of an old power plant (ironic, considering the insane energy last night). Tresor was founded in 1991, shortly after the fall of the Berlin Wall (November 9, 1989). Techno is significant in Berlin’s culture. Historically, techno and its parties have been known for accepting everyone, regardless of religion, race, or political identity. Its music, with strong, industrial, acid, and above all, repetitive sounds, allows people to enter a sort of trance (similar to meditation), enabling the union between soul and body (I made this part up, but it works that way for me, and I choose to believe it does for others too).

Robert Hood said something similar: “Experimental, futuristic music was like a spaceship you could escape with… the hope of a better future.”

It’s essential for Berlin because, after the Wall fell, the city embraced it as its own. It allowed its attendees complete liberation. It’s worth noting that Berlin is beyond liberal. It’s a wild musical jungle where you have to be careful not to become prey. That’s why Berlin is considered the mecca of techno, and its clubs have become so famous.

Many people on the internet give tips on how to get in. Wear all black. Wear leather. Say it’s not your first time. Study the DJs playing that night. Look relaxed. The reality is that it largely depends on the bouncers, people who “read” the energy of those entering to ensure it matches the club’s vibe and doesn’t disrupt the mystique. (Many tourists go to these places just to take pictures). By the way, taking photos in clubs is strictly prohibited (in fact, they put stickers over all phone cameras once you enter).

The day started at 9 AM. We got ready and went on a tour of the Berlin Wall. We learned about how and why the wall was built. Essentially, Berlin was at the heart of the GDR and was divided between Capitalists and Communists. Everything was different, even the smell (according to Thiago, a friend of Jens). People living in the GDR started moving to the other side for better opportunities and a better life. In response, the GDR built the Berlin Wall, which was actually two walls with a nearly 20-meter-wide passage in between, filled with traps and guarded by soldiers ordered to shoot anyone attempting to cross.

We walked for 3 hours and finished the tour with graffiti on what remains of the wall. One that caught my attention was the kiss between the president of the GDR and the president of the USSR. A passionate kiss, only to show friendship and closeness (ok, sure).

We went to a mall to buy a few things. I was afraid they wouldn’t let me into Tresor, so I bought black pants and a gray shirt (better safe than sorry). We needed to do whatever it took to get in. (We had already studied the DJs playing that night; I had seen one of them in Medellín before, and if they asked if we’d been there before, we’d say yes, last week, seeing a Colombian DJ named Verraco).

We went to Berlin’s Olympic Stadium, where the 2006 World Cup final was held. The stadium is enormous, imposing. It’s surprising that it was built for the Olympic Games by Hitler’s order (fun fact). On the way back, we stopped at Hard Wax. But first, a stop at Burgermeister, a burger chain in Berlin that surprised me. The price ranges from 4 to 6 euros for a burger comparable to Home in Colombia. Can’t go wrong. We ate half a burger because we had food at home.

We arrived at Hard Wax. We had to go through a dirty, abandoned alley (typical Berlin) until we reached a building. There, on the top floor, is the first record store in Berlin. The vibe is unique. The counter divides the store. On the left side, there are six turntables that people use to listen to records. On the right side, the records are divided by the labels that produced them. The goal was to find a record for Jens, our host on this trip, as a thank-you gift. We found the EP The School of Intolerance by DJ UVB. Recommended: Least at Last.

What an incredible experience. Handling the records, testing them on the turntable, feeling the track, and buying it to mix at home. A wild experience. The EP cost 12 euros.

We returned home and had lunch. From there, we went to a place where we met Jens and his friend Thiago. A German with Latin American parents who speaks Spanish, English, Portuguese, and German. We talked for a while until we headed back and ate near the house.

Back at home, Jens started his ceremony in the temple. He let me open my first record (the one we had given him was sealed). He turned on the turntables, mixer, and sound system. I placed the record, dropped the needle, and we listened. Jens put another record on the other turntable and started mixing. A dream. We went back and forth a few times (I must say I still have a lot to practice, but I gave it a try). While it was Jens’ turn to mix, I started packing since we had a train to catch at 7 AM to Prague the next day.

At 11:30 PM, Jens almost kicked us out of the house. He said we needed to get to the club early because the lines would be long. Excited, we took the metro to the club, not without saying goodbye to Jens first. Thanking him for his hospitality and help. Without his offer and kindness, Berlin would have been very different for us. I thought he was exaggerating about the line, but no. When we arrived, the place was packed with all sorts of people. We had to wait an hour to reach the bouncer. There were three couples ahead of us. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my head.

The first couple stepped up. “English or German?” asked the woman guarding the entrance. “English,” they replied. “Ok, so is this your first time?” “Yes,” they answered. “Maybe next time,” she said. “Why?” No idea. They seemed normal, just people wanting to have a good time, but in these clubs, you never know. The same thing happened with the other two couples. It was our turn. At that moment, anxiety and fear completely took over. I was panicking, as Mono said. “English or German?” she asked. “English,” Mono replied, and I think I did too (I’m not sure).

“Ok, so is this your first time?” “No,” Mono responded, and I think I did too. “When was your last time?” she asked. “Last week,” Mono replied. “Cool.” (Here’s a parenthesis because I heard her ask who played that night, meaning last week, while Mono heard who was going to play that night, meaning we had two different DJs according to our understanding, but let’s assume she asked who was going to play that night because, at that moment, Mono was more sane than I was). “Who is gonna play?” Mono said Shacke, I think I said Verraco because I understood something else. “Ok, so if there is a problem inside, you can tell us,” the woman replied. I was terrified, my heart was racing, I wanted to tell her that I desperately needed to enter to liberate my soul through the music. She must have sensed it because she asked, “Are you ok? Could you repeat what I said?” I stared at her. Mono looked at me puzzled. It felt like an eternity passed between her question and the moment I reacted. “Yes, you said if we have a problem we can tell you,” I responded. “Ok, so enjoy,” she said.

We got in. My heart was pounding, and I thanked Mono because, without him, it wouldn’t have been possible. We were inside Tresor after an hour of waiting. We were inside one of the most iconic techno clubs in history. We paid 15 euros for the cover and got a stamp (normal in Berlin). The club has two stages: one with more ambient music and the main one. It’s indeed an abandoned basement with an industrial look. The DJ booth is behind bars, like a prison. We danced a bit to warm up while waiting for Shacke. We ordered a vodka and Sprite for 7.5 euros.

My back, legs, and neck hurt. I’m not sure if it was from the tension, all the walking, the trip, or all of the above. But it didn’t matter. The energy was at its peak, people enjoying the music and the sound (it grabbed you and wouldn’t let go). Shacke’s set started about 40 minutes after we entered. Listening to him felt like climbing a mountain. The higher I climbed, the less energy and oxygen I had, but the closer I got to the summit (surrendering my physical and spiritual self to his musical mountain).

Smoke, lights, sweat, dancing, lots of dancing, and lots of music. Watching Mono climb the mountain too was very special. Once again, music is the universal language.

At 4 AM, after dancing for 2.5 hours, we headed home. Exhausted. Physically drained but spiritually fulfilled. And me, once again, grateful for everything I’ve experienced. Without a doubt, experiences far outweigh material things a hundredfold (at least for me). We headed back home, rested for an hour, and caught the train that would take us to the next city: Prague.

Notes: I’m writing this review while traveling to Prague with my feet, back, and neck completely destroyed. I only slept for an hour, but I needed to process and filter my emotions.

This was the DJ who took us on his musical journey:

Listen to MIX: Fast Techno #1 2022 by Schacke on SoundCloud.

Although Berlin may not immediately strike you with its beauty, it does with its culture and devotion to music. It’s curious because every day we were there, there was music.

Berlin is a wild musical jungle. Freedom for all.