Herrensauna: Cultivating Chaos

You can consider Herrensauna a relatively recent addition to the nocturnal topography of Berlin, yet their events keenly push the boundaries in what appears like a saturated market for hedonism and play. A DIY ethos is at the core of Herrensauna, and is wielded in the face of the largest and most institutionalised clubs in the city to great infamy. Naturally—you might infer—the soundtrack is a relentless mix of high BPMs and ruthless electronics. The dancefloor and darkrooms tend to be caught in a feedback loop with the sound system.

Helmed by three core members Jordan, Cem, and Nicolas, but with the help of many friends, partners, and guests—there's an innate flexibility to Herrensauna's operations. As Jordan tells me, "there are sometimes just a few people who actually have a sense of what's 'supposed' to happen.” Speaking like a seasoned promoter, he feels “a degree of chaos is sort of how the best parties are established….”

The payload of this chaos isn't in the creation of a wildly monumental and populous party, but rather to cultivate something far more intimate than anything that was running for the queer community in Berlin when they first started four years ago. "With Berlin having been saturated not only with tourists, but also a tremendous amount of external influence, I think we all wanted to do something that felt a little more insular, collective, familiar," Jordan states. Reflecting on this initial impulse that forged the party’s creation and the importance of their DIY work ethic, he feels Herrensauna "really stands by this still today, despite the event taking on much larger proportions."

The first Herrensauna parties were indeed intimate. The labyrinthine basement setting at the first location on Neukölln's Maybachufer was accommodating of 200 people at the very most. Once you wandered through the dimly-lit rooms that peeled off from the cavernous dancefloor, the number of bodies packed into the venue seemed to be ever-increasing. Space, not to mention time, slipped away. Heightening the pull of the vortex was the fact the music remained extremely loud wherever you found yourself, and respite was only to be had by completely giving in to the atmosphere. If you were on the dancefloor, your body was typically pummeled with a kick drum that regularly travelled above 150 BPM.

Hi-octane techno came from a succession of regular guest DJs such as Hector Oaks aka Cadency and SPFDJ, and on one occasion a special appearance from Berghain's DVS1. But thrown into this mix were live performances with the kind of unhinged bursts you'd expect from hardcore punk shows. The Empire Line's infamous performance is one such example. Yet the state of cathartic duress that you could find yourself immersed in was also overwhelmingly warm and welcoming. The fierce sweetness of the intimacy all around you was only rivalled by that of the sweat on the ceiling, and it was visible to see that Cem and Nicolas—the resident DJs—had an unfiltered connection to the room.

Herrensauna's notoriety has largely been fueled by the visibility of their industrial-punk and raw metal aesthetic online, including the proliferation of the photographic documentation to have come from their earliest nights. One overlooked aspect in the development of Herrensauna is how crucial the sound has been. At the Maybachufer location, the enthusiasm of the DJs would often tip the sound system into the red; distorting all but the top end and upper-midrange of the mix. The gritty contortion of the DJ's selections into intense rhythmic noise sessions seemed the natural accompaniment to the surroundings and ravers—shirts off, bras off, tattoos staring at tattoos, a ceiling you can touch; losing your shit. Herrensauna managed to coalesce something quite distinct from the chaos that apparently underpinned their contribution to Berlin's club culture.

Jordan makes this clear when he tells me that Herrensauna still consciously presents "a counter-balance to whatever else is out there," and that their programming is intentionally bold, and inclusive of experimental live acts. "The crowd we strive to attract exists in Berlin anyway,” Jordan admits but feels Herrensauna acts as a meeting point for “those which don't feel comfortable in other (club) settings, or simply don't feel they will be around those they consider peers."

When Herrensauna moved to Tresor in July 2017, there was some apprehension about what might not translate into the confines of an established techno institution. What was most important, Jordan intimated, was the relationship with the party's community. "It was quite an unexpected step to go from a derelict basement you could not see from the street—without any proper bathrooms—to what is likely one of the most well-known club spaces in the world. It was flattering, humbling and also a bit intimidating. We thought: how will our guests see this?"

Confirmation of the relocation's success came in the move from Sunday to Friday nights. Numbers have increased and this has come without compromising Herrensauna's core values of creating a uniquely programmed queer club night that's all-inclusive and sex-positive. Jordan qualifies this with an observation on where he feels Herrensauna has improved. "Our crowd is more diverse than ever,” he notes, “it's a really nice thing to see, as initially there were many women who thought the event wasn't really accepting of them."

Nights at Tresor have meant a farewell to the dangerously overheating sound system of their earlier years, but the better sound that comes with their larger budget has meant some of their more ambitious hopes are now a reality. Expanding their programming with overseas artists, such as Haruka, as well as the numerous collaborations they've undertaken, has been a natural fit with Herrensauna's DIY politics. Their noncompliance with Berlin's scene started as a necessity regarding the construction of spaces for a non-binary and sexually adventurous crowd. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the preference for harder and faster sounds has been an analogy for how critical and unforgiving Herrensauna's presence continues to be.

Written by Patrick Quick

A part of Hard Dance, a series brought to you by Boiler Room exploring the hard and fast fringes of club culture.