Strict Machine (Tuesday, February 1, 2011) Freakin’ hippie sun stamp: RAW-tempel And then, we arrived in Berlin! Cold, grey, dirty, ugly, SUPREMELY BADASS Berlin. For our first night out, we went for a drink at a squatter bar called Supamolli, which basically looked like steampunk heaven (though perhaps a bit rougher around the edges). We opted for large bottles of Berliner Pilsner; it has an awesome logo depicting a beer bearing bear. Check out his skills! After that, we attempted to head to a club called Suicide Circus, which my friend Kristian A. had recommended. The address listed on their site is 99 Revaler Strasse (which we quickly took to calling “Revealer”). We arrived and entered what we thought was the complex of buildings which contained this venue, but it seemed deserted—branches were flowing in the breeze, it was dark, there was loads of graffiti. Just then, a man walked past us. You remember Techno Viking? Yeah, I think we met him—or his brother. The dude stopped, and we tried to ask him where the club was. He pointed and said some semblance of “That way!”; he seemed really pumped about it, and that we also were trying to find it. He walked off, and we looked to the side. Magically, a quaint gay bar appeared on the premises. I do not know what it was called, sadly, but they had a GIANT banner of Vicky Pollard from Little Britain above the bar, so we knew we should stay for a couple rounds. There were pictures of the bar’s tranny owner with lots of famous people all over the walls, and we weren’t quite sure if they had been Photoshopped, but it was wonderful anyhow.Then, we headed in the direction Techno Viking sent us in. We walked up to the venue, and a big sign above the door read RAW. We would soon learn that this was not, in fact, Suicide Circus, but a club called RAW-tempel, which is part of a complex on the lot of a former railway maintenance yard that hosts non-profit art and music events of all sorts.Inside, there were lots of laser-ish lights, and it looked like a ravey thunderdome. We grabbed drinks and sat down, and soon enough, a guy we dubbed Rave Elf came over and asked why we weren’t smiling. We didn’t quite have the heart to tell him it was because we somehow ended up at this party with sub-par techno and people like himself. However, we did enjoy watching the locals do their thing. Music-wise, they played Goldfrapp’s “Strict Machine”, and that was about all we recognized. Our big successes were to come during the weekend, though, so we sat in waiting like komodo dragons sun-bathing on the rocks.

Strict Machine (Tuesday, February 1, 2011)

Freakin’ hippie sun stamp: RAW-tempel

And then, we arrived in Berlin! Cold, grey, dirty, ugly, SUPREMELY BADASS Berlin. For our first night out, we went for a drink at a squatter bar called Supamolli, which basically looked like steampunk heaven (though perhaps a bit rougher around the edges). We opted for large bottles of Berliner Pilsner; it has an awesome logo depicting a beer bearing bear. Check out his skills!

After that, we attempted to head to a club called Suicide Circus, which my friend Kristian A. had recommended. The address listed on their site is 99 Revaler Strasse (which we quickly took to calling “Revealer”). We arrived and entered what we thought was the complex of buildings which contained this venue, but it seemed deserted—branches were flowing in the breeze, it was dark, there was loads of graffiti. Just then, a man walked past us. You remember Techno Viking? Yeah, I think we met him—or his brother. The dude stopped, and we tried to ask him where the club was. He pointed and said some semblance of “That way!”; he seemed really pumped about it, and that we also were trying to find it.

He walked off, and we looked to the side. Magically, a quaint gay bar appeared on the premises. I do not know what it was called, sadly, but they had a GIANT banner of Vicky Pollard from Little Britain above the bar, so we knew we should stay for a couple rounds. There were pictures of the bar’s tranny owner with lots of famous people all over the walls, and we weren’t quite sure if they had been Photoshopped, but it was wonderful anyhow.

Then, we headed in the direction Techno Viking sent us in. We walked up to the venue, and a big sign above the door read RAW. We would soon learn that this was not, in fact, Suicide Circus, but a club called RAW-tempel, which is part of a complex on the lot of a former railway maintenance yard that hosts non-profit art and music events of all sorts.

Inside, there were lots of laser-ish lights, and it looked like a ravey thunderdome. We grabbed drinks and sat down, and soon enough, a guy we dubbed Rave Elf came over and asked why we weren’t smiling. We didn’t quite have the heart to tell him it was because we somehow ended up at this party with sub-par techno and people like himself. However, we did enjoy watching the locals do their thing. Music-wise, they played Goldfrapp’s “Strict Machine”, and that was about all we recognized. Our big successes were to come during the weekend, though, so we sat in waiting like komodo dragons sun-bathing on the rocks.