- Tresor is probably Berlin's most significant club. Opened in 1991 in the bank vault of a former department store, it channelled the energy of the post-reunification city like no other. In its 25th year, which will be celebrated with a string of events at the club and across the world, its status is more ambiguous. The club reopened in a new spot, a disused power plant, in 2007. The building is extraordinarily big, also housing Kraftwerk, home to Atonal festival, and the petit OHM, which hosts parties like this. These other spaces live out Tresor founder Dimitri Hegemann's grander cultural ambitions (at the time of opening, he called the building "the new Tate Modern"). Tresor, meanwhile, is the dependable old workhorse.
In contrast to the bohemian vibe of other Berlin spots, Tresor has long attracted a more suburban, working class crowd. Over time, and especially since the city's techno-tourism boom, this has developed into a relatively forgiving attitude towards foreign visitors. When I arrived at 3 AM, for the first of six birthday events this year, there was a long queue of people trying their luck. Inside, the crowd skewed heavily male, and hoodies or shirts were the uniform. Over at the urinals, a group of British lads could be heard loudly comparing the duration of their pisses. Female friends report higher instances of harassment at the club. The huge tourist demand for Berlin poses problems that aren't easy to solve. When visitors get turned away from somewhere, they experience the cold face of the city. If they get into Tresor, they mostly experience each other.
The club's interior reinforces the sense that this is Berlin clubbing as imagined from the outside. Its efforts to echo the original Tresor give it an ersatz feel which is strange, though not unpleasant. It's hard to guess the level of self-awareness behind kitschy touches like the giant plasma ball at the entrance to the upstairs room, Globus. Walking down the 30m concrete tunnel to Tresor proper, with strobes snaking down the ceiling ahead of you, it feels like you're in the queue for the "Tresor" ride at Disneyland.
Still, it's difficult to argue with the world-class production in both rooms. I was planning to spend most of the night in Globus for a lineup of dub techno royalty, but first I dipped into Tresor for Sleeparchive. His live set of pummelling EBM techno was perfect for one of the most confrontational club spaces in the city. Searing lights and a dizzying layout mean that you're in the thick of it as soon as you step inside.
Back in the calmer Globus, I caught the end of Moritz Von Oswald, who played brilliant tracks (including some of his own) sequenced strangely. He didn't seem to be having the best time, and Vainqueur took over ten minutes early with a slick live set. His pillowy basslines and rich dub-chord cascades sounded wonderful over the room's soundsystem. The party really hit its stride when DJ Pete stepped up. He offered a few dappled chords early on—echoes of his own dub techno work as Substance—but soon settled into a bouncy and up-to-the-minute techno sound. His stylish mixing, and a barrelling sense of momentum, helped fill up the room's long dance floor for the first time all night.
But as he notched down the tempo in the second hour, the floor suddenly emptied out. With its relatively sane opening hours, Tresor doesn't prize endurance. You might've thought a birthday party would be different, but throughout the night—in spite of all the excellent music—there was little shared sense of occasion. Maybe that's because, for many in the crowd, it was pure chance that their visit to Berlin coincided with this event. Throughout the night I saw a guy in his 50s in a smart check shirt, drink in hand, wandering the dance floor. He seemed to be looking for something that wasn’t quite there.