- With summer in full swing, the Funk Park—an ex-DDR communications centre on the outskirts of former East Berlin—comes into its own. Admittedly, the first night of this three day festival of electronic music started unpromisingly with the weather cold and unusually windy. But, inside the pre-fab building things were suitably hot, helped along by Dave Shokh, whose live set finale featured stripped back, reduced vocals and tight basslines. It set a pace that was hard to match for the following DJ, Jo Saurbier. But a slightly plodding start with a thick, deep house track was quickly rectified and, by the time I left, Saurbier was moving into territory more appropriate to the rest of the event.
On Saturday, things changed. The morning/afternoon saw sleep for some, but come 5:30, with hot sun and a warm westerly wind blowing across the Spree-side beach, people were dancing in front of the old lorry/DJ booth. Gez Varley, formerly of LFO, played a live set of Ostgut-esque, stripped back techno which, to my tastes, was perhaps the best performance of the whole weekend. Despite this, it was poorly timed, as the general relaxed beach atmosphere seemed to call for something deeper, warmer and altogether housier.
This is when the Funk Park earns its reputation. When, standing outside watching the sun set across the river, towards the dense woods of the Spree Park, with pylons marching overhead and smoke-stacks belching steam into the air behind, you get a Berlin moment. Where, within a twenty minute bicycle ride from Mitte, you can have sand between your toes, a deck chair on the strand and a soundtrack of clear, deep, stripped back house. And, a place that, come 6:30 in the morning, the light of a Berlin sunrise turns trees, sand and buildings a golden-yellow and inside, the dull thud of a four-four beat still pounds away.
Sunday morning, and it's around that mythical 6:30 moment. Two hours ago Stephan Bodzin jacked the atmosphere up into the red. An hour-long live set was filled with his trademark hissing, thunderous drops and all-round fetish for technology. Bodzin had the entire dance-floor in the paws of his Lemur, the live performance of tracks from Liebe Ist threatening the structural integrity of the building. He followed it up with an hour on the Pioneers and took the level even further up as the sun started to threaten its way through the blackout blinds behind the bar. But what followed extinguished those morning rays: Katja Ryba brought out-and-out techno to a still packed club: a deep, fast and spectacularly bleak set of percussive, Liebing-esqe toughness, whilst outside funk and disco entertained scattered groups in various states of physical and mental stability as the sun rose and bed called.
As a micro-festival, set just on the outskirts of the city, and at what can only be described as an entirely recession proof weekend price of €15, the popularity of this event was almost guaranteed. But, in a city where club nights of outstanding quality are the norm—and a slightly jaded attitude to what's on offer is unfortunately common—the packed, energetic and enthusiastic attitude of the club-goers was a breath of fresh air.
With the news coming after the festival that Rechenzentrum faces closure—according to the club's latest newsletter the current owners want to sell up, converting it to a dock for freighters—its relaxed, spacious, unpretentious and friendly space seems even more precious. Where else can you find this in Europe's second largest city? Is there any way economics cannot win out over culture, over something intangible, something free? I hope so. For the sake of the Rechenzentrum, I really hope so.