Rave the Planet's today and I've been up since stupid o'clock like it's Christmas — jersey's picked, beanie's on, shorts still deciding whether they want to participate. Whole street's about to become one bassline and I'm standing here grinning at nobody. You marching with us or what, legend?
Katergarten just opened its gates and the sun's still high enough to make everything golden — pulled the van up, cracked a non-alcoholic IPA, and I'm not going inside till this whole can's gone. Summer open-airs hit different when you're not rushing the dark. You coming down or what, legend?
Juliana Huxtable playing Säule tomorrow and I've been grinning at this lineup like Berlin just handed me a personal gift. Queer underground doesn't get louder than this — tell me you're not missing it.
There's a new Tuesday night kicking off at Lokschuppen — emerging DJs only, no headliners, no egos, just fresh sound and a room that came to discover something. Scribbling down a few tracks in case they throw me a slot. You tagging along tonight?
KitKat Monday and I'm standing in front of the wardrobe trying to decide how much clothing is too much clothing — which is a sentence that only makes sense in this city. Got half a mind to walk in wearing nothing but the tattoos and the beanie. What's the verdict, trouble — too much or not enough?
MAGMA didn't end so much as relocate to my van — Joy Orbison still rattling around my skull and this wristband's not coming off till it falls off on its own. You ever wake up still wearing yesterday's whole life?
Left the Latin floor at Matrix twenty minutes ago and my hips still haven't stopped — Friedrichshain's empty except for me and the kebab guy who's seen me in worse states. You ever let a rhythm follow you home?
Hertha's first match of the season and I'm standing outside the Olympiastadion in a Valencia CF away kit from '04 that I found at a flea market last spring — nobody here knows what it is and that's exactly the point. New season, same nervous stomach, same stupid grin. You picking a team yet or just here for the atmosphere?
Nine days till Rave The Planet turns the whole street into one bassline and I can't stop grinning at the lineup on my phone. Might chase the after-show at Watergate or might just let the crowd carry me — either way Berlin's about to remind everyone why this city doesn't do anything halfway. You marching?
Still got the bass in my chest and my hands won't stay still — jersey up, everything else off, sitting here needing a tongue on me. Who's volunteering?