
Loading summary
A
This is an iHeart podcast. Guaranteed Human. Hey, audiobook lovers. I'm Kalpen. I'm Ed Helms. Ed and I are inviting you to join the best sounding book club you've ever heard with our new podcast, Irsay the Audible and iHeart Audiobook Club. Each week we sit down with your favorite iHeart podcast hosts and some very special guests to discuss the latest and greatest audiobooks from audible, listen to Earsay on America's number one podcast network, iHeart. Follow Earsay and start listening on the free iHeartradio app today. This is Michael Lewis from Against the Rules, the Big short companion. This podcast is brought to you by FedEx the new power move. You know those people who show up late to meetings or events on purpose to make themselves look like they're so busy? That's really the old power move. The new power moves are calling out logistical problems before they arise or knowing every detail about your shipment every step of the way. FedEx the new power move. This message is brought to you by Apple Card. It's a great time to apply for an Apple Card. You'll love earning unlimited daily cash on every purchase.
B
That includes 3% daily cash when you.
A
Buy the latest iPhone, AirPods and Apple Watch at Apple through this special referral offer.
B
When you get a new Apple Card, you can earn bonus daily cash.
A
To qualify, you must apply at Apple Co getdailycash Apple Card issued by Goldman Sachs bank usa Salt Lake City Branch.
B
Offer may not be available elsewhere.
A
Terms and limitations apply.
B
Pushkin.
A
PJ Hi. Are you eating something?
B
I feel rude now that I don't have anything to offer you.
A
I've got a bowl of chili. Oh, boy.
B
Did you almost have a chili accident?
A
Very nearly. Really the worst thing to smell.
B
So, pj, we're here to play for the people. A very entertaining episode of your show. Search Engine. Do you want to broadly explain what search engine is?
A
Yeah, I'd love to. So the premise of our show is that we try to answer questions. We say, no question too big, no question too small. And we like questions that take us on a journey if we can find them.
B
I always listen to the show. I think it's great. I listen to it. For your excellent writing. You're so good at making things understandable and, you know, pulling out these really beautiful metaphors and analogies. And also the subjects that you choose are always. There's never a dull one. I always feel like, wow, that's a really good choice of subject.
A
Thank you. You know, it's like you're making these podcasts and you're just trying to entertain the people making it and maybe a few of your friends. That's the proxy for this mass of listeners who you rarely get to see or meet. But I feel like in just trying to make five or six people happy, we've had a few this year where it felt like we were curious about something that turned out lots of people were curious about without realizing it.
B
Can I pitch you a search engine topic, please? My 8 year old son, I found him in the alley with his head buried in a garbage can. And I was like, what are you doing? And he popped out his head and he looks at me, like, with such sincerity and asks, why is it that garbage always smells like garbage?
A
It always does. It's like, there's like a couple flavors that can really change it, but for the most part, garbage always smells like garbage.
B
Yeah.
A
Why does garbage smell like garbage is good? Because it's like, it makes you alive to something that you've always noticed but never found strange. It takes something that is totally unpleasant and makes it an opportunity to have wonder. That question, like, why does garbage smell like garbage? It, like, hits your brain and like, whatever preoccupations your brain was so stuck on, now you're just there. And like, I think what I enjoy about the work we get to do is to just spend 40 minutes there.
B
Um, before we play the episode.
A
Yeah.
B
If we can have a crossover moment.
A
Yes.
B
So my show, Heavyweight, is about revisiting unresolved moments from the past.
C
Yes.
B
And there's a moment from our shared past that I would like to resolve with you.
A
Oh, no.
B
I was in New York recently for a live event, and afterwards a whole bunch of us were gonna go out for lunch, and you said you had to go pick up eye drops and that you'd meet us there. And then you were never seen or heard from again. What happened? PJ Vogue.
A
I really woke up the next day and was like, am I still friends with Jonathan? Okay, here's what happened. I guess I have a habit sometimes of, like, not taking my contacts out when I go to sleep. And you really shouldn't do that. I woke up one day and my eye was, like, really? It just, like, hurt. I went to the emergency eye place and they were like, to not lose your eyesight, you have to take these eye drops every hour. Wherever I was, I had to go into a bathroom and dump these, like, very acidic eye drops in my eye.
B
Jesus. It's like a Jason Statham film.
A
That's what it Felt like, but with a nerd who's only fighting himself, fighting blindness. So my great idea was that I was gonna go in between your show and this lunch back to the pharmacy at the hospital and get more eye drops. And I just like to use a term that my stepkids use. I crashed out. I'm not saying that I didn't go because I was crying.
B
Were you? Are you allowed to cry, or would it make you go blind?
A
Oh, I don't know if I was allowed to cry. I like the idea of a Jason Statham film where he's not allowed to cry. He's not allowed to cry. And the villains are constantly, like, playing.
B
Him sad music, trying to bait him. Rom coms showing him old long distance telephone commercials from the 70s playing Elliot Smith bootlegs. Okay, well, that was a pretty satisfying explanation. I accept it.
A
But I'm sorry. I felt very bad, and I appreciate your accepting my apology.
B
Yeah. So let's play the episode. I hope you, our dear listeners, will enjoy it. I certainly did. And if you do, check out more Search Engine, wherever you get your podcasts.
A
Thank you, Jonathan.
B
You're welcome. And I want you to leave that pause in Kaylee.
A
I'm not supposed to pick favorite questions. I claim to love all questions equally. But about a year ago, I got a question from two friends of mine. This question caused a rare amount of delight over at Search Engine hq. So we asked the two of them to come to the studio. Um, okay. Okay. Do you guys want to introduce yourselves?
D
I'm Chris.
E
I'm Dan. I guess I'm also a Burgundy.
A
Chris and Dan, two very successful, stylish young professionals. They had an annual tradition going back years. These two friends would vacation together, sometimes to exciting nightlife destinations like Berlin, the city they just returned from. And what's, like, the nature of these vacations? Like, what is your form of relaxing?
E
I would say our form of relaxing is generally not relaxing.
A
It's like partying.
D
Yeah, yeah.
A
Okay.
E
But, you know, respectful, healthy, wholesome party. Yes.
A
Okay. And so this was your second trip to Berlin to do respectful of whom? I'm not sure. Wholesome. What was the last thing?
E
Healthy, respectful, wholesome and healthy partying. Yeah.
A
So you guys, these are a lot of, like, daybreaker parties where you drink water and, like, do yoga afterwards or whatever.
E
Yeah, A lot of green tea.
D
Exactly. That's the vibe.
A
Chris and Dan, I should tell you, more conscientious and buttoned up than most people I know. Chris, who I've known much longer, he's the kind of person where when I invite him to a party, I can set my watch to what happens. He and his boyfriend show up exactly on time, bearing a thoughtful gift, and then Chris sneaks out the front door two hours later or half an hour before midnight, whichever comes first. Not a person given to unplanned improvised fun. So I was actually surprised to learn he'd been drawn to Berlin, a city that tends to attract my more late night degenerate friends. So you're going to Berlin and like, how many days were you going for?
D
I think it was like 72 hours in Berlin.
E
Yeah, it was a really short trip.
A
And what was the itinerary?
E
There was a very unstructured itinerary which consisted of absolutely nothing.
D
But we knew what the crown jewel of the trip was supposed to be.
E
Yes, keyword's supposed to be.
A
And that was Berghain. And why Berghain?
E
I guess it has this mythical status attached to it, which is no one can get in or very few people can get in. But once you're in, it's like this mystical palace of fun and amazing music and God knows what else. Because neither of us have ever been inside.
A
Berghain. At the time of our conversation, rumors about Berghain had certainly reached me. 4,000 miles away in Brooklyn, I'd heard the basics. A decommissioned power plant turned into a multi story nightclub. People talked about this place as a kind of grimy heaven. And like traditional heaven, grimy heaven was also supposedly very hard to get into. It operated according to its own particular value system. Berghain selectively welcomed freaks, rejects the different. This was the place where my friends had wanted to go.
E
And I think part of the whole allure of the venue is because they reject so many people. Yeah, they have rejected so many famous people, from actors and celebrities to the Elon Musks of the world. And so it would be one thing if, you know, we're not a list celebrity, so of course we're not getting into this club. But even the top of the top of society, the top of the top of the business world, even, they are not getting into this club.
A
Yeah, it's savage, I should say, according to Elon Musk. Elon Musk was not rejected from Berghain in 2022. Amidst a bunch of Internet chatter about how he'd not gotten in, he posted on Twitter that it was he who'd rejected the club. He said he'd refused to enter. Okay, Chris and Dan. Their recent attempt was not their first try. They'd also gone in 2017. Back then, they'd done the same thing. Gone to Berlin, headed to Berghain, waited in the line, and ultimately been told, nein. This time around, they were older, they were wiser, and they had at least one new advantage. This thriving corner of the Internet devoted to Berghain door policy reconnaissance.
E
There are Reddit forums, subreddits completely dedicated to this. There are TikToks dedicated to this.
A
In English.
E
Yeah.
D
In every language. We were kind of looking back on the last time that we went, and we were like, what did we do wrong? And I think the last time we went, we were so ignorant to any of these rules. We showed up in, like, black American Apparel T shirts and thought that would be adequate for the dress code.
A
Yeah, yeah, okay. But that's not adequate.
D
Yeah, no. Totally woefully inadequate.
A
So now, five years later, when Chris and Dan arrived once again in Berlin, they knew they would have to take things more seriously.
D
We had a shopping module one day where we went to Kreuzberg, which is like their sort of, like, funky neighborhood with all their vintage stores, and we were like, we are going to dress like freaks.
E
Athletic shorts, tank tops, harnesses. Yeah, it's definitely a look.
A
The outfits they decide on. For Dan, a black tank top and short shorts, length somewhere between 80s, camp counselor, 90s basketball player, black shoes and tube socks. For Chris, black skinny jeans, no shirt, and this black vest that kind of looked like a tuxedo vest. With their outfits ready and mindset prepared, they head to the Berghain line for their Saturday attempt.
D
There's this error through the day of, like, we're gonna cinch this. Like, it felt that way to me.
E
If it was gonna be any moment, it was gonna be that day.
D
Got it.
A
Okay, so tell me.
D
So it's always a fixture. Like, you show up, it's very, very long. Three to four hours.
A
Are you talking a little bit. From the back of the line, they could see the club, the former power plant, looming over the horizon. It was dark except for flashes of light and silhouettes through the top windows. Very faintly, it emitted the throb of bass. As they stood there waiting, people would walk past them, people who'd already been rejected, glumly leaving. Chris said the sight of these people would actually inspire hope in him.
D
When a bunch of people in front of you get rejected, you feel kind of optimistic because you're like, well, they're not going to reject everyone. You know, just statistically, we're probably in luck.
A
Way, way, way up ahead at the front of the line stood the bouncers. A few of these bouncers specially deputized to decide who got into the club. Those are called selectors. Those were the people sending rejects back out into the night. So how soon can they see you?
E
You know, that's up for debate.
A
Oh, really?
E
Some people might say they're kind of watching you the entire time.
A
This is Santa Claus logic. There's no way they're watching you the entire time.
D
No, but people do come back. You see people that are kind of strolling the line and then you see them again at the door. That happened at least once.
A
Oh, so Santa Claus is watching you?
D
Yeah, but for the. I mean, I assumed or I felt like for the most part, you weren't really scrutinized until you were within like 20 to 30 people of the door.
A
Okay.
D
And then they're on a pedestal.
E
They're on a literal pedestal.
D
They're on a literal pedestal.
And they're looking out and you could feel their eyes on you.
A
Okay, and so how, what was your strategy for how to behave in the line?
D
The conventional wisdom is to be just stone faced. Now we tried that. We also tried the approach of being like, let's just be normal. Now. Another thing that's interesting is I think that they could tell to the point of like scanning you for authenticity. Like, we actually are gay, which works in our favor because it retains its roots as a gay club. And they're gay at the door.
A
Oh, the bouncers are all gay.
D
The Bowsers are gay, we think.
A
Yeah, they seemed to be.
D
They seem to be.
A
After a couple hours of anxious waiting, Chris and Dan found themselves close to the mouth of. Of Berghain.
D
There's actually like a physical demarcation. So, like, you get to a certain point where, like, the line actually has a railing around it.
A
Oh, okay.
D
So once you reach that point, you're like, whoa, this is game time. Like, then you're within like 20 people of the door. You know that you're within sight of the bouncers. That's when, like, you could hear a pin drop.
A
Everyone's just completely quiet.
D
Everyone's totally quiet.
A
That's so funny. And what happens when you walk up? How do you. Do you, like, straighten your posture?
E
Absolutely. Yeah.
A
Okay.
E
And so you get up and then there's a number of calculations that are going on in your mind. Do you look at the bouncer in the eye? Do you look kind of at the ground? Do you smile? Do you keep a straight face? Do you say anything? And I think on this, try this was like our Authentics Friendly Selves attempt. And so, you know, I smiled at the guy. He asked how many people were. I said two. I was friendly, I think. I asked him how his night was going.
A
Did he answer?
E
No, of course not. One of my calculations was whether or not to look like I was having fun and into the music. So I kind of, like, was dancing a little bit, but, you know, very, like, minor movements.
And I don't think that strategy worked.
D
It didn't.
A
It's hard because you're like, how do I not look desperate after waiting in line for several hours to get into the most exclusive nightclub in the world? It's like a witch hunt where every person in line is a witch.
E
Yeah. And you're constantly making adjustments on how to not appear to be a witch. Yeah, yeah.
A
So you walk up, you say, like, how's your night? He says nothing. Is he just looking at you? Is he a he?
E
It's a he. There's Sven, the main bouncer. If Berghain itself is the epitome of what you would think of East German old techno nightclub, then Sven is the epitome of what you would think of as the bouncer, the lead bouncer for that venue.
A
What does he look like?
E
A large man with a large number of tattoos and piercings on his face. That man is.
He's a unique individual.
A
Is he intimidating?
E
He's extremely intimidating. And there's two others. Apparently there's some sort of communication between the two of them. Some sort of silent communication.
A
But is that legible?
E
There's only one amount of legible communication, and that's the decision.
A
And how do they communicate it to you?
E
It's always one person. They pull up at a time or a small group, and sometimes they're immediately rejected. Like, they don't even get to say a word. The bouncer just puts his hand out and they just keep walking.
D
Very subtle. Yeah, yeah.
A
And they just point towards the street.
E
It's not so much a point as an open palm out the direction that you should be going.
A
So the gesture you're doing is actually the gesture. One used to be, like, welcome to my home. But it's welcome to not my home. Like, it's.
B
It's the.
A
The arm goes out, the. The palm's outstretched. Like, look at this. You're not going to a nightclub.
D
Yeah. It's like, you're welcome to go anywhere else in Berlin.
A
Chris and Dan did not get the gentle wave inviting them anywhere else in Berlin. Instead, they got a verbal rejection. The Bouncer told them, not tonight. And so the next day, Sunday, they tried again.
D
They had a new plan to go during the day. That's when.
E
Separately.
A
During the day and separately. Okay. And the idea being during the day, less competition. Separately, the bouncer might respect you more. Or is it two chances?
E
The line was just as long, I would say, if not longer, actually during the day. And yeah, our thinking was perhaps we would attain that additional level of respect if we pretended as if we were going separately.
A
On this attempt, Chris and Dan stood in line next to each other for hours and did not talk.
E
We acted like we didn't know each other. And I was ahead of Chris. And I get up and one of the bouncers like, how many? And I say, one. And he just stares at me and stares. And I actually thought this was the time I was getting. And I was pretty confident because it was like a solid 20 seconds, I would say, before I was rejected. But as soon as they rejected me, they looked at Chris and immediately rejected him.
A
Oh, my God.
E
So we're pretty sure they caught us on the lie.
D
Yeah, it was insane. It felt like an X ray.
A
But is it the same bouncers from the night before?
D
Yes, it actually was. Actually, as we're saying this, I'm like, we're idiots.
E
Yeah.
D
Obviously they knew that we were together.
E
Well, that would assume they remembered us out of the thousands of people who are probably trying to get in there.
D
But of course they did. I can't believe we had to go on a podcast.
A
Like, yeah, you're like, I think you saw into my soul.
D
Yeah.
E
Yeah, I think we've. We've figured out the answer why we didn't get in. We were just dumb.
A
If it seems silly to you that two adult men spent so much time and energy trying to get into a nightclub, if it seems sillier that this reporter would then spend a year of his life thinking about this place that those men never got to see the inside of. I should tell you how I feel about nightlife, which is maybe not what you would expect. I find nightclubs to be deeply meaningful places, borderline holy. I know that sounds a little weird, but in New York, where I live, there's a handful of these quasi underground little dance spots. Smoke machine shrouded dance floors, usually free to get in, where you can just lose yourself for hours dancing in a throng of strangers. Years.
It's all very corny to talk about, especially on a podcast, but as a person who feels like a full time resident of my own mind, these are the only places where I escape that, where even sober, I can just feel like a body. Not a brain or not a body, just a part of a mass of them. I suspect there might be a human need to gather in a room and surrender to something. And for me, what I discovered pretty late in life is that the room should be sweaty and packed, and this render should be to music. Berghain. Whatever the hype, the promise was that it was the best of these rooms built by humans, an actual wonder of the world, not some relic. If somebody was going to sympathize with the plight of two Americans who had failed to pass its door, it was probably going to be me.
At the same time, I, like them, also found this whole situation deeply funny. Isn't it weird that you guys went into all this trouble to be like. And I don't mean this in like the Supreme Court says the word, but like, to just be discriminated against?
D
Yes.
E
I don't think we'd think we were discriminated against. I. I don't want to be here and say, oh, because we're two Americans, we absolutely knew what we were getting into, and it was almost going there. And getting rejected was like a fun activity in and of itself.
A
Right. It's like you're participating in the thrill.
E
Let me put it this way. I've gone skydiving before, and the level of anxiety I had just as I was stepping up to be judged was the same level of anxiety I had just as I was about to jump out of the plane.
A
Really?
E
Yeah.
A
And then what did it feel like to be rejected?
E
Almost a relief, really. You get it over with. I wish I had gotten in, but yeah. And then when Chris was rejected, too, I felt really good about myself.
Would have been devastating.
A
So what is, like, the thing you're trying to figure out about Berghain? Like, what is the question that I can answer?
D
So there's a few things I want to know.
One thing is, say there are some cases where it's cuspy, and they're like, we want cuspy.
A
Like on the cusp of a decision.
D
On the cusp of a decision where they're like, they can't decide when you're 20 people away whether you're a yes or a no.
A
Yeah.
D
And they want to get a closer look. What are they scanning you for?
A
Right.
D
What are the cues that are going to, you know, nudge you towards getting in versus kick you to the curb.
A
Got it.
D
The other question that I have, every time we would leave, we would walk around the whole club. I wonder if there's a way to sneak in.
A
Like, is there just, like, a fire exit?
D
Yeah. Like, is it permeable from any other orifice than this door? I mean, I expect it to be hard. To be clear, I don't think that there's some. Easy, oh, just go in the back door. I'm just like, if you jump a fence crawling under a bush, like, I'm like, is there a way?
A
And would you do it if there were?
E
Yeah, Absolutely.
D
Yeah.
E
Okay.
A
What is the bouncer at Berghain scanning you for if you're on the cusp? And is there some other, perhaps secret way to sneak into Berghain?
After the break, our investigation begins.
Hey, this is Sarah. Look, I'm standing out front of AM.
E
PM right now, and, well, you're sweet.
A
And all, but I found something more fulfilling, even kind of cheesy. But I like it. Sure, you met some of my dietary needs, but they've just got it all. So farewell, oatmeal.
E
So long, you strange soggy.
C
Break up with bland breakfast and taste AM PM's bacon, egg and cheese biscuit made with K tree eggs, smoked bacon and melty cheese on a buttery biscuit.
A
AM P M. Too much.
C
Good stuff.
A
I'm Jake Halpern, host of Deep Cover, a show about people who lead double lives. We're presenting a special series from Australia. It's all about a family who was conned by a charming American.
E
When you marry someone, you feel like.
A
You really know them.
E
I was just gobsmacked as to what's going on here. Does the name Leslie Mnookian mean anything to you?
A
Oh, you bet.
D
Never forget her.
A
Listen to Deep Cover presents Snowball. Wherever you get your podcasts.
Welcome back to the show unsuns. When we started all this last July, all I really knew about Berghain was that it was a Berlin techno club and that it was very hard to get into. But I started researching. The club itself maintains a very minimal footprint online. 200,000 people follow Berghain's Instagram account, but the club has only ever posted one photo in 2015, a picture of a sign that says in all caps, taking photos is not allowed. The sign, presumably from inside the club itself. Berghain, like Vegas, claims that what happens there stays there. Except in Berghain. That seems to actually be true. Some information about the club, nevertheless, has circulated. The story of Berghain, as I now understand it, begins 30 years ago.
In the early 1990s. Two Germans, Norbert Thormann and Michael Teufele had begun hosting a men's only gay fetish party, sometimes at an abandoned air raid shelter. After a few years, the party outgrew that bunker. The pair took over an abandoned railroad depot. At the railroad depot, they started a club called Ostgud. Ostgud was legendary, open to people of all genders and sexualities, but still a space run by and largely for gay men. A den of hedonism where consenting adults supposedly engaged in all sorts of unusual behavior online. At least one video survives from inside the club.
But the video is pretty tame. It's from July 2000. Looks like camcorder footage. A grainily shot DJ hovers over a console twiddling knobs, while nearby, a crowd of German shadows writhes under a strobe light.
Ostgut may have lived forever, except the city wanted to build a big arena. So the railroad depot was knocked down. In 2003, Berghain was its reincarnation. The palace that replaced Asgut. This time, too big to knock down. A thermal power plant originally built during the Soviet era. Four floors. On the very bottom floor, a dedicated basement gay club for men only. At the very top, a bar with big windows opening onto a panoramic view of the city. On the levels in between, where the power turbines once sat, an enormous dark cavern. The main dance area. The entire space governed by its own particular rules. Rules that are repeated breathlessly by the Internet. Commentariat. Hurricane is not a standard posh club with bottle service.
E
They make you put a sticker over.
A
Your phone, no pictures.
E
They'll throw you the f?
D
Ck out.
B
There'd be a window where you could.
E
Buy ice cream and you could order smoothies. It's open from Friday until Monday, and.
B
Most people stay there for 12 hours.
A
24 hours or more. Right now it's 9am Berghain is best known for one weekly party, Clubnacht Club Night. Club night is a misnomer, because while the party starts Saturday evening, it continues all the way until Monday morning without interruption. A few books document the history of the scene that birthed this party. I found Tobias Rapp's Lost and Sound to be particularly helpful. He writes about how when Berghain opened in 2004, the party was by and for Berliners. But word soon spread internationally. A European budget airline called EasyJet had just opened a new hub in Berlin, and other Europeans started taking EasyJet flights to the city to come. Party. The legend kept growing. Eventually it grew large enough to draw Chris and Dan, two of the Many Americans who made the pilgrimage to Technomecca. It was a marvel. A three day party good enough to draw thousands of people every weekend. People who would fly to Germany without even a promise they would gain admittance. That was Klubnacht at Bergh Hunter.
Most of what people discuss online is not any of this. Instead, they talk about Sven, the intimidating bouncer who Chris and Dan encountered and then cowered in front of Sven Markhart. Sven Markart is a tall, imposing man in his early 60s, with giant lip rings that look like silver fangs. His hair is slicked back and silver tattoos of thorns cover much of his face. He looks like a bad guy in a John Wick movie, and he has played a bad guy in a John Wick movie that was just a cameo one time, though. Sven has run security at Berghain since club first opened 20 years ago. Sven's backstory he grew up in East Berlin, the communist side of the Wall, before it fell.
There's this one documentary, Berlin bouncer, that profiles Sven. In one scene, he gives a talk in front of a crowd. He's wearing all black tinted glasses. Sven discusses the early chapters of his life, how his teenage years were defined by the feeling of being stuck outside a much more significant kind of door.
Sven saying, we just wanted to see the other side of the Wall. We didn't really want to leave home. We just wanted to find out what were we being deprived of, what weren't we allowed to see. Sven has said that as a young gay punk rocker, living in East Berlin was risky. He was frequently picked up by the secret police. He was devoted to his photography career. But after the Wall fell, he chose to stay on the East Berlin side and his art career stalled there. Sven's brother was a DJ and a club organizer, and Sven started working the door at his parties. It turned out Sven's eye for people worked not just in photography, but also here. He had a talent for deciding who should be let in. He developed a reputation. That's why they chose him for Osgood and later for Berghain. The fact that this much of Sven's biography exists in public, of course, goes entirely against Berghain's secretive ethos. But Sven has continued to pursue his photography career. And so every few years when he has a new exhibition or a photo book, he talks to journalists. Questions about his photography, which he wants to discuss, and questions about how to get into Berghain, which he has to tolerate. Those are the terms under which the gatekeepers at places like the New York Times or Gq will allow Sven entry and understanding the way of these things, he obliges Sven, the man, with the answer to our question. What was the bouncer at Berghain scanning you for? I should say I emailed Sven and requested an interview. I've never been less surprised to be ignored. But in the documentary there's this prickly moment where the interviewer seems to have directly asked Sven the rules of the door.
Sven responds not with helpful tips about what shade of black to wear. Instead he says sternly, we don't need to question the rules that are in place. He does allow that as a selector, his responsibility is to only let people in who once they join the party, won't impede the freedom and self expression of the people who are already inside.
It makes sense, but it does not provide clues. And in any situation in which official sources remain this tight lipped, of course speculation will reign. And it does online. As Chris and Dan had seen mainly on TikTok. There a cottage industry of people who claim to have gotten through the door now style themselves as helpful experts, explaining what exactly they believe Sven is scanning for when he looks at people like Chris and Dan trying to get inside the mind of a 62 year old gay German ex punk. Be really casual, don't be flamboyant, don't.
C
Speak too much, don't talk too loud in the queue and under no circumstances engage in laughter.
A
Literally just basically be as casual and blend in as possible in order to get in. So we got it's impossible to know if any of these people are actually telling the truth. Again, you can't record inside of Berghain, which means you just have to take the word for it, I promise.
C
People say that you need to wear black to get in, but that's not true. It helps, but it's not a must. I know a guy.
A
Just be yourself and if you get in, you get in. And if you don't, try again some other time. Or call it a wrap.
C
When I went back I was wearing.
A
The advice offered by these supposed gurus, frankly does not feel all that usable. Try to get in. Or maybe don't wear black, but you don't have to. The other thing is like look sharp.
E
But also like you don't care that much.
A
My favorite artifact of all the online Berghain speculation is this website called bergheintrainer.com that will actually drop you into a surprisingly high res simulation of the Berghain line. The site takes control of your webcam and then scans your face, analyzing your emotions through Your expressions, how angry, sad, euphoric. Your face is giving a virtual simulation of Sven's gaze. And then the first person video virtually walks you, step by step, up to the doors of Berghain. The music gets louder as you get closer. The website warns you that Sven will ask you three questions. So I did it.
When I arrived at the virtual door, a German man, presumably an actor playing Sven, asked, is this your first time here? I said, yes. He asked, do you know who's DJing tonight? I said, yes.
He asked whether I'd taken drugs. I said, nein. After a moment of scanning, the virtual bouncer told me, not good today. And then made the hand gesture toward the street, the same hand gesture Chris and Dan had gotten. To be honest with you, this rejection by a fake bouncer, it hurt my real feelings.
I'll tell you something about myself that won't surprise you. I've never been considered cool. I know cool people. I'm not against coolness. I just don't possess it. I'm uncool enough that I often ask the cool people I know to explain to me why certain things are cool right now. How did we decide big pants are back in style? If you have to ask, you're not cool. And I do have to ask, both professionally and just because of my personality. So I'm not cool, and I'm old enough to be okay with that. But this was a little different. At Berghain, where Sven ruled, it seemed to me that the source of his power lay partly in his refusal to explain himself. My job as a journalist was the opposite, to understand and explain. And I just couldn't resist the challenge of trying to understand something that was designed to obscure itself. That was why, even after all this Internet sleuthing and documentary watching, we would continue digging for the better part of a year. We would talk to lots of people. We'd read too many books devoted to the Talmudic study of German techno, its origins and subgenres. And in the end, we'd emerge with an answer. What was Berghain scanning for? And why? How would a place like this come to be?
All that. After the break.
What do you think makes the perfect snack?
C
Hmm. It's gotta be when I'm really craving.
A
It and it's convenient. Could you be more specific? When it's cray venient. Okay.
C
Like a freshly baked cookie made with.
A
Real butter, available right down the street at am, pm Or a savory breakfast sandwich I can grab in just a second at am, pm I'm seeing A pattern here?
C
Well, yeah.
A
We're talking about what I crave, which is anything from AM pm. What more could you want?
C
Stop by ampm, where the snacks and drinks are perfectly craveable and convenient. That's cravenience. AM pm. Too much. Good stuff.
A
I'm Jake Halpern, host of Deep Cover, a show about people who lead double lives. We're presenting a special series from Australia. It's all about a family who was conned by a charming American.
E
When you marry someone, you feel like.
A
You really know them.
E
I was just gobsmacked as to what's going on here. Does the name Leslie Mnookian mean anything to you?
A
Oh, you bet.
D
Never forget her.
A
Listen to Deep Cover presents Snowball, wherever you get your podcasts.
Welcome back to the show.
In America, in the circles I run in, people complain a lot about capitalism. I don't think they're bothered by the exchange of goods and services. I think it's their shorthand way of saying everything here is just too driven by profit. Even things that start out good can be squeezed to death by our ceaseless desire to wring out every possible dollar. In Berlin, a place where, until recently, capitalism and socialism both operated. In Berlin, it feels like something else is going on. The nightlife industry there brings in one and a half billion tourism dollars a year. But they're strange dollars. The crown jewel, Berghain operates by turning away thousands of paying customers. And despite demand, it keeps its ticket prices pretty low, all while existing in a building that is 37,600 square feet in a very hip neighborhood. And not only does this all seem to work, it's worked for a long time. That doesn't happen in nightlife. Clubs don't stick around. Studio 54 was open for less than three years. Berghain is on its 20th. And people attribute a lot of that success to Berghain's strict and strange door policy. You can tell the story of that door as a story about culture, about cool. But cool, we know, never explains itself. So let's get inside Berghain from a different direction. I'm going to tell you the story, not about DJs and bouncers, but about lawyers and lobbyists, about the municipal regulation and policy that allows this club to exist the way it does. A story that begins in 1949.
Hi, can you hear me?
C
Hey, hey.
D
I hear you.
A
Well, how's it going over there?
C
Well, well, well.
A
Lutz Lights and ring. I'd first heard about him from one of my best friends, Kay Burke, a nightclub founder herself. People in Berlin called Lutz the mayor of the city's nightlife. So did Kay explain, like, who I am and what we're up to over here?
C
I think she might, but it was also quite some time ago, so maybe you can fill me in again.
A
Yeah. So I have this podcast called Search Engine, where we just try to answer people's questions, no matter how simple or complicated. And we do sort of, like, all manner of stuff. We do, like, really serious stuff. Like, we just did something about fentanyl and the drug supply in America, but we also do really silly stuff and kind of, like, everything in between.
C
And what level are we here in this conversation?
A
We're closer to silly, I think. So we have these friends I want to talk about who just didn't get into Berghain and are confused about it. But it's sort of an excuse to tell the larger story about nightlife. I think for people in the United States, it's a place you go and you spend $500 on champagne. And you know what I mean? It's like.
C
Or $10 on a can of beer.
A
Yes.
C
Without a glass.
B
Exactly.
A
Germans like Lutz call this style of nightclub bottles and models, shorthand for the economic model that drives them. Clubs like these are what most Americans think of when you say nightclub spots that tend to make their money by enticing rich people to pay for tables and buy bottles of champagne so that they can feel important. The clubs are like little status factories. In Berlin, though, that same word, nightclub, describes an entirely different operation fueled by a different economic model. And Lutz's job is to protect that status quo. He's nightlife's advocate in the offices of city bureaucrats, the spokesperson for Berlin's club commission. I wanted Lutz to tell me how Berlin's unusual nightlife scene had come to be. And that story is the story of two arguments. The first argument takes place in the late 1940s. Argument one is about a very specific rule, curfew. In Berlin today, there is no curfew. Bars and clubs stay open as long as they want. And can you tell me the story of, like, how Berlin came to be a city with no curfew? Like, what is the origin story of that decision?
C
This decision is, like, almost 80 years old, and it happened right after World War II. So in 1949, you had already a divided city between the eastern sector and the western sector, the eastern sector controlled by the Russians, and the western sector controlled by the British, the French, and the Americans. And in the eastern part, there was a curfew at 10pm so all the restaurants, bars, hotel bars, cabaret bars, etc. They had to close at 10pm in the eastern part. In the western part it was 9pm, so an hour earlier. And there was this, let's say, representative spokesperson of the hotels and restaurants of Berlin. His name was Heinz Selenmeier, Heinz Zellermeyer.
A
There was no club commission back then. Heinz was instead the deputy director of the Guild of Berlin Hoteliers. In photos, Heinz has an enormous smile and combed back hair. He looks like someone who held forth at a restaurant or two. Hines did not like the curfew. He particularly did not like that his side of the city had an earlier curfew. The person to complain to was General Howley of the U.S. army, the American's West Berlin commandant. A meeting was set and Heinz supposedly came prepared.
C
The story is that he brought a bottle of whiskey to that meeting. So they met and they were talking about it and General Hawley said, yeah, the British and the French, they're not really supporting any idea of losing this curfew. They say it's a security issue. So you have to give me an argument that I can give the French and the British. And the problem was that at that moment in the western part, people had to go out of the bar and then they went to the eastern for another hour, which was also not really liked by the Americans, you know. So he said, if you kick Germans who are partying at a certain hour, you kick them out of the street, you're going to have a security issue. So you have to better find a solution for it.
A
It was a well reasoned argument. The Allies did not want drunk Westerners crossing east in search of a later last call. And worse. There had been an emerging cold war of curfews with each side, the east and the west, repeatedly extending an hour past each other to try to capture all the income from drunk Berliners. Eliminating curfew would solve the security issue and win the night war. Halley was sold.
C
He said, okay, let's try this out for two weeks. And since then, 1949, we have no curfew.
A
Berlin, one of the rare cities that has no curfew at all. In 1949, when the city permanently deleted its curfew, obviously techno music did not exist. Raving was something people did in insane asylums. If anyone was listening to music in a club late at night, it was probably jazz. But this decision set Berlin on a path. Nightlife is funded more than anything else via the sale of alcohol. A city without A curfew can have a legal party that runs through the night. Even that runs multiple nights. Half a century ish later, techno will hit Berlin. People will begin to throw raves in illegal spots without permits. This will happen in a lot of cities at the same time. Detroit, New York, London. But what makes Berlin different from those places is that here, many of those raves can actually become legitimate businesses can find permanent homes and clubs. General Halley's 1949 agreement is the first precondition for Klubnacht at Berghain. It sets the stage for a party that can last for three days. But years later, as the scene starts to mature, a second argument takes place, an argument which almost kills these nightclubs. Argument two is about taxes.
In the early 2000s, Berghain was a rising young club alongside already established spots like Tresor and the KitKat club. And Berlin's tax authority started to take a closer look at these places. How much money were they bringing in? Shouldn't the city be getting a bigger cut? Government tax agents walk into Berghain, presumably without needing permission from Sven. They're there documenting everything they see, asking a question from a tax perspective. What is happening in these rooms? In Germany, if you pay money for a ticket and enter a venue where music is played, according to the taxman, you may be having one of three different experiences. You might be experiencing high culture, like opera, in which case the city will barely tax the ticket. You might be at a concert like the Rolling Stones, in which case the city will moderately tax the ticket. Or you might be experiencing entertainment. This happens in casinos, in porn theaters. In that case, the city will take a big tax bite, almost 20%. Before the tax officials began to take a closer look at the club scene, these venues had been mostly taxed as concert venues. But now, in 2008, the city started to ask pointed questions. Was a DJ really a musician? Was a techno show really like a concert?
C
The perception that people in government had says a DJ is not a concert. People are going there to have sex or to drink or to whatever, but not because of the dj. They even sent people to clubs and documented that people were not facing the artists, they were talking to each other.
A
Oh, my God.
C
Stuff like that. Yeah.
A
To kind of prove the point that.
C
This is not a cop.
A
Wow. I've been in concerts where people were not facing the artists and talking to each other.
C
Exactly. But they said clubs is different. People go there to meet people, not because of the artists. They don't even know who's playing. These kind of Argumentations.
A
Berghain was the club that actually took this case all the way to the high courts. Berghain won. The Berghain, in the government's books, was cemented as a concert venue, a place where people went because they loved techno music. Weirdly, this is one part of the answer to Chris and Dan's questions. What was the bouncer Sven scanning for at the door? He needed to ensure they were true techno heads, not people there simply for entertainment. That consideration, a funny side effect of the argument the club had had to make in court years ago. It may have been part of what filtered them out. Chris and Dan not true techno heads. Berghain's victory in court meant that any German nightclub that could prove it was meeting Berghain's cultural standards could be taxed like Berghain. Lower taxes meant they could keep their overhead low. The lower the overhead, the less pressure to make money. The less pressure to make money, the more they could continue to keep their nightclubs dedicated to preserving Berlin's strange counterculture. Lutz told me about another one of these battles.
C
I don't know if you are aware of zoning, what that means in cities. So there are different zoning laws which says in certain zones of the city, there are certain allowances. So for instance, you cannot build an amusement venue like a leisure venue in a residential area.
A
Right.
C
The problem with this categorization is that you're only fully legal in the very center of the city, where also the prices are very high. So if you want to do it properly, you have to be very commercial to survive. Oh, and now that we are more flexible in what areas of the cities, we can establish music venues. We can also maybe turn a form of a restaurant or bar into a club, possibly, which we could not before because it was in the wrong zone.
A
It's so interesting, though. It's like you get the government to classify clubs differently, that changes where clubs can appropriately be in the city. Then if the clubs can be in places where they otherwise wouldn't have been allowed, they can have, like, a different profit incentive. Like, they don't have to just, like, make as much money as possible. And you end up with a different culture because of just a change to how the government classified something. That's really interesting.
C
Exactly.
A
We're going to come back to this strange court case and its consequences in the second part of this story. But before I left Lutz, I wanted to ask him specifically about Chris and Dan. What was it about them, the way they looked, the way they dressed, that had signaled they didn't belong at Bergheim. Lutz does not represent Berghain, but as spokesperson for the club commission and as a Berghain regular, I thought he might be able to help. Can I show you a couple photographs and you tell me if the person.
C
Seems like I'm not a selector, so I can only give you my personal opinion?
A
Yeah. Is it okay to ask you your opinion on it?
C
Yeah, from.
E
Of course.
A
Okay. This is one person.
C
Well, very friendly, maybe queer person. Very soft, happy. He's wearing some kind of top that doesn't really say anything. It's like, what is it?
A
It's too generic of a top.
C
The vest, I think it looks authentic to him. But this person looked very innocent.
A
Yeah.
C
And you also want to save some people for, you know, to getting into something that they maybe don't expect.
A
Okay, can I show. So this is the person he went with?
C
Yeah, I would probably send them to Schwarz.
A
What's Schwitz?
C
It's our oldest, best known gay club. And that's the perfect vibe for those.
A
Two guys because they don't seem like techno guys to you. They seem like gay guys who are going out clubbing.
C
They don't look like hard, you know, like standing in the middle of a sweaty club and going for hours and enjoying this. And, you know, they're standing more like having a chat, you know, like. And that's. That's okay to have some of those folks in the venue, but it's really about getting out of your inner self and showing your animalistic side of yourself.
A
For very good reason. We don't celebrate the idea that you should judge people based on how they look on the outside. Those judgments often lead us astray. And yet Lutz, from a photo, could tell Chris and Dan were after respectful, healthy, wholesome partying, not the sort of darkness that occurs in Berghain's techno dungeons. They didn't belong here. They belonged, he suspected, at another place called Schwutz. I wondered what Chris and Dan would make of that judgment, so later I asked. Chris told me Schwitz. They loved Schwitz. It was the club they'd ended up at after being rejected from Berghain, Berlin. This magical city had somehow sent them to the place where they really belonged. Lutz was not a selector, but he did seem to have a selector's eye. Your read is so good. Chris, who I know better, he's a lovely. He's one of my favorite people to spend time with. If I were having a party where it was really important that someone danced in the middle of the dance floor for eight hours, he would perhaps not make the cut for that party.
C
That's really, I think, the first question you have to ask yourself, are you a participant or are you a visitor? And it shouldn't sound sophisticated or arrogant. It's just like a club. The definition of club is being part of a club.
If you're not part of the club, why should you being able to enter? I think the idea of just buying myself in is the. The opposite of a club, what it should actually be. A club should bring people together who have similar interests, similar preferences.
A
A club should bring together people of similar interests, absolutely. But what if you're someone who doesn't belong but still wants to just go check it out? Is there a way to sneak in? Is there some other way into Berghain that is not going through the bouncer? Lutz did have advice about this.
C
My tip that I usually give is make a plan of exploring Berlin, maybe from the outskirts. Go to venues that are not very known. Go to places that are somehow interesting for you because you did your research and you saw some artists that you want to see and they're playing. So go there and you get in very easy. Because venues that are not very known don't have this kind of level of selection. Usually there's not even a queue. And then you get friends with the bartenders, you make friends with the DJs there, and you have an amazing time in an unknown venue with unknown artists, basically. And the next time you're coming, you're gonna reach out to them, and because they like you or they. They connected to you, they will ask you to start in their home with dinner. Maybe you go to a bar, you make no friend. And even maybe they make sure that you get on a guest list of some venue that they're going at that night. But I think it's part of that journey that you also have to make to be part of the scene.
A
Lutz said the process he's describing, this is the real way into Klubnacht. Make yourself a part of the scene. That line outside Berghain, he said, that's for people who haven't been able to or who haven't known to try. While Litz was saying this to me, I was nodding yes, furiously, my noggin like a broken bobblehead. Of course, it all made sense. And as a person obsessed with belonging and exclusion, I was lapping it all up. We finished our conversation. It's really. It's a pleasure to just get to ask you these questions. Thank you for doing this.
C
You're welcome.
A
We hung up. And then, not long after, the spell of Lutz's idea dissipated. What were we talking about? If you wanted to visit the most exclusive nightclub in the world, go to Germany and start methodically befriending Germans in the city's electronic music scene. Okay.
Normally that would have been the end of things, and perhaps it should have been the end of things. But not long after this, a friend of mine, an American, asked me a question. They were celebrating a big milestone in their life, and they wanted to do it in Germany, in Berlin, actually. They wanted to spend some time there, perhaps even try to see some of the city's famous nightlife. That sound like fun? Could I make some time away from work? Yes, it did. No, I couldn't. I bought myself a plane ticket. The myth, hard as it was to believe, was that the door to Berghain, like Excalibur, Oliver's sword, would be offered only to someone who truly understood techno culture, who understood what the place meant. Could something like that really be true? Next week on Search Engine, the last episode of our season, Techno.
It.
Search Engine is a presentation of Odyssey and Jigsaw Productions. It was created by me, PJ Vogt and Shruti Pinamany, and it was produced by Garrett Graham and Noah John. Fact checking this week by Claire Hyman. Theme, original composition and mixing by Armin Bazarian, who also created the techno remix of our theme song. You're listening to right now. Armin Bazarian. Very talented man. Our executive producers are Jenna Weiss Berman and Leah Rhys Dennis. Thanks to the team at Jigsaw, Alex Gibney, Rich Perello and John Schmidt. And to the team at Odyssey, JD Crowley, Rob Morandi, Craig Cox, Eric Donnelly, Kate Hutchison, Matt Casey, Maura Curran, Josefina Francis, Kurt Courtney and Hilary Schaff. Our agent is Oren Rosenbaum at uta. Follow and listen to Search Engine for free on the Odysee app or wherever you get your podcasts. Thanks for listening. I'll see you next.
This is Jim. Hello. Jim started advertising with iHeartRadio way back in April, and now I have customers out the door. And this is Sarah. Hi. She started putting a portion of her marketing dollars in podcasting back in June. Business is booming. That's why I'm working on a Saturday. Want to be like Jim and Sarah? It's easy. All you have to do is own or manage a business and reach out to iHeart. Get started today at 844-844 iHeart or iHeartadvertising.com.
I'M Jake Halpern, host of Deep Cover, a show about people who lead double lives. We're presenting a special series from Australia. It's all about a family who was conned by a charming American.
E
When you marry someone, you feel like.
A
You really know them.
E
I was just gobsmacked as to what's going on here. Does the name Leslie Mnookian mean anything to you?
A
Oh, you bet.
D
Never forget her.
A
Listen to Deep Cover presents Snowball. Wherever you get your podcasts.
This is an iHeart podcast. Guaranteed Human.
Podcast: Heavyweight (Pushkin Industries)
Episode: Presenting Search Engine | Why didn’t Chris and Dan get into Berghain? (Part 1)
Date: December 4, 2025
Host: Jonathan Goldstein (Heavyweight) & PJ Vogt (Search Engine)
This Heavyweight episode “presents” an episode of PJ Vogt’s Search Engine, focusing on the perennial question: Why is it so hard to get into the legendary Berlin nightclub Berghain, and why didn’t Chris and Dan make the cut? Through humorous, self-aware storytelling and thoughtful commentary, the episode becomes a journey into subculture, exclusivity, and what it means to belong—featuring firsthand attempts, social analysis, legal and historical context, and interviews with Berlin nightlife insiders.
PARTNERSHIP INTRO & CROSS-PODCAST CHAT: [01:47–06:15]
(“So, PJ, we’re here to play for the people… a crossover moment…”)
CHRIS & DAN’S BERGHAIN SAGA: [06:47–24:06]
(First-hand accounts: planning, waiting, rejection, reflection.)
BERGHAIN’S ORIGINS & LEGENDS: [25:50–32:50]
(Documentary history, Sven the bouncer, myth-making.)
INTERNET MYTHOLOGY & DJ SOUL-SEARCHING: [33:18–37:20]
(TikTok guides, “Berghain Trainer,” discussion about coolness/authenticity.)
POLITICAL/LEGAL HISTORY OF BERLIN NIGHTLIFE: [39:17–51:01]
(No-curfew postwar law, taxation debates, club advocacy, zoning.)
THE ‘SELECTOR’S EYE’ – PHOTO JUDGMENT: [51:29–54:00]
(Lutz explains why Chris and Dan didn’t fit the mold.)
THE REAL PATH TO ‘IN’: [54:34–56:32]
(Joining the community, not faking the aesthetic.)
PERSONAL REFLECTIONS, CONCLUSION, AND TEASER: [56:32–57:54]
Humorous, self-deprecating, and thoughtful—the episode is as much about the quirks and psyche of nightlife as it is about “solving” a puzzle. Through Chris and Dan’s failed attempts, the testimony of bouncers, clubland historians, and policy wonks, and PJ’s own uncool “outsider” charm, the episode gently mocks the search for social acceptance, offers genuine insight into Berlin’s cultural underpinnings, and leaves listeners both satisfied and curious for the next chapter.
Perfect for listeners interested in:
Memorable, funny, and sneakily profound.