Broken tram confusion after late night studio in the back room
of an old East Berlin apartment, formerly the home of the state
‘watchers’. The seeds of 21st Century music & art are nurtured in
the horror-houses of former dark times.
The tram driver sees I don’t speak the language, indicates
with a waving motion ‘get off the dam tram’. Wait in the cold
with dazed night crawlers, couples kissing in the glow of
illuminated supermodel posters, blonde rockers in leathers,
wild hair & tiny lace bonnets, chubby boys with cheery beers.
Walking back streets after dark past wide-eyed party-heads
queueing to get into wonderlands concealed behind filthy doors.
Snow scenes projected onto the insides of warehouse windows,
macabre little tableaux pressed up against the windows of
curiosity shops tucked away in residential backstreets between
the heavy handed artistry of 10th generation taggers. Ragged-assed
flyers cling to walls & lamp posts fluttering in a chill wind
that blows in off the river as dealers step out of shadows chanting
promises as we cross back into the light.