The bassdrum wanders through the chinky bricking, through the thick ceilings and walls of the no very fancy apartment building in the harbour of hamburg. Pedestrians look up to the window, from which the beloved and detested sounds spread. It is the rhythm of the clubs heart.
Jan Tenner is at work. He has put down the headphones and turns up the volume. His foot taps the beat and his shoulders luff simultaneously. The sample's good. In a thousand times rehearsed movement, he..