Nestled along the broadside of Berghain’s hulking mass, Beirhof Rudersdorf is an outdoor restaurant that makes for unusually good people watching. This is where, on a recent Thursday afternoon, we sat at the bar waiting to interview René Pawlowitz. Among tables of old people eating schnitzel and drinking beer, Ricardo Villalobos ordered a mini-tub of Ben & Jerry’s to go with his café latte. A while later, Zip plopped down in an armchair across the patio and cracked open an issue of the Berliner Zeitung. Soon I caught sight of Pawlowitz, sitting at a table while another man talked to him. It was a few weeks before the release of his highly anticipated second album, The Traveller, and he was fielding the surge of media attention that came with it — an interview with FACT had just gone online, his podcast for RA was ready to go, and before our interview was over a photographer from XLR8R appeared for a shoot. Pawlowitz doesn’t have much enthusiasm for this kind of thing, but all the same he seemed generally at ease, stirring his sekt on ice and talking about his new record. As the afternoon turned to evening, he very candidly filled us in on his typical creative process, his misgivings with the general state of techno, and the burden of having a moniker that sticks.

So you’re pretty much working on music full time?

No, it’s only when I’m in the mood for making music. For instance, with the album, it was for maybe a month or two and then I stopped. The computer at home for doing music is turned off for two months now. I only make music when I want to, when I feel there is something. It’s not that I try to do it every day or that I have to explore new sounds. It’s not my thing. I produce music.

So what do you mean you don’t explore new sounds? You mean you don’t sit there experimenting?

When I start, I always have an idea. I don’t want to make music when I have no idea. I know what I want to do. And then, when I have this idea, I start doing it, I start producing it. And it’s not a hobby that I sit down searching for new sounds or new drums. It’s not what I do. I make it, I simply make it.

When you say two months, you mean the album from beginning to end just took you two months once you actually sat down to do it?

Yeah, all the tracks but one were made this year, I think between March and April. Actually it was very easy, because I had an idea. [laughs] And that’s why it was very easy. The one track was made last year — the second track ["Keep Time"] — this is the only one which was made last year. The other 13 tracks were made only for this album. Sometimes I made three tracks per day, and then I took a break for a week.

Did you have the same process for Shedding the Past?

No, that was something different, it was more a collection of tracks. I didn’t produce this album because it was…. How can I say it… I didn’t want to do an album. The offer came from here [gestures toward Berghain] to do an album. It was very quick to do it — only two months, and then it came out. That’s why I had so many tracks that I only collected to do an album. It’s not an album, really. It’s more of a compilation.

I was going to ask about that. I think Shedding the Past feels like it tells a story — there’s kind of a narrative throughout the album. There are little flourishes like the spoken word piece that segues right into the next track.

Very cheap. [laughs]

I liked it, there’s a continuity from track to track like it’s all one piece. And I think The Traveller sounds just the opposite. It’s like each song is very self-contained.

Ah, really? I think it’s more a story in the second album than in the first one. Because it’s always the same sounds. And not just the same kind of music, but the same sounds. All the tracks were only made for this album. And because it was made in a very short time, it sounds very similar.

Is it the same process when you’re doing 12-inches?

No, not at all. When I do 12-inches, the tracks must be a normal tempo, and the tracks must have a function in a club — they have to work. That’s why you need an intro, you need a break, and all that. And on an album you don’t need it.

Do you feel more comfortable with one or the other?

No, both are good. When I’m not in the mood to do something for the club, I do something that’s more dub, electronica, or this kind of chill-out ambient stuff. I dunno. I can do everything [laughs] — and I don’t need to. That makes things easy for me, a very comfortable situation for me.

So with all your different aliases, and different sounds for each one, do you feel like there’s still some part of you that hasn’t been expressed yet? Do you feel like there’s still something you’re waiting to unleash?

I don’t know yet. Maybe. But nothing planned, nothing at all. I will wait and see what happens.

It seems like there are many artists will have a track kicking around for a while, they play it in their DJ sets and their live sets, and then finally, sooner or later, they actually get around to releasing it. Are you that way at all, or do you just sit down to do a track and then you release it?

No, I only play tracks in my DJ set or live sets which are released. I don’t play any unreleased tracks.

For the tour to support this album, you said that the club setting wouldn’t be an ideal place to present this album because of the format. What’s your ideal situation for performing material from The Traveller?

Actually, I thought that it would be very difficult to play these sounds live, but in fact it’s very easy to switch through the styles. I’m sitting at home right now to setup the new live set, and it’s actually very easy. It’s not a problem to change the speed of the track. There are whole tracks with 120 BPM and the last track on the album is 160 I think [smiles] — but it’s no problem. It’s a show, and I play for one hour. And it’s easy, it’s OK.

At Mutek in Montreal they have a whole section of the festival where you sit down in a concert hall to watch the more experimental artists. Would you ever picture yourself in that kind of situation playing live? Or do you think you’d always be a club?

I dunno, hopefully I can play more “shows,” not at the club. Hopefully. But at the moment I only get bookings for clubs. And when I play at a club I have to “push it.” It’s hard, but I can do it [laughs]. But not with the new album. It’s not possible to play, for instance, I dunno, at Berghain. Maybe for the release show, yes, but not on a Saturday evening. It’s impossible. That’s why I have to change it to the older stuff to do four-to-the-floor.

Do you feel like you express yourself well playing live?

It’s okay. It’s hard work because of the traveling — with all the equipment. It’s easier for the DJs who are playing only CDs or MP3s. I always have a bag with me which is over 30kg, and this is hard. And always what’s very, very bad for me is… to do sound check. I hate it, actually. But you have to do it because you need to hear the PA. But playing live, it’s cool. It makes sense.

Why don’t you like the sound check?

Because you have to go to the club before. It’s wasting time, actually. It’s easier for DJs. They can go to the club one hour before or ten minutes before and they can start. It’s very easy, they don’t need to check anything. But I always have to talk to a lot of people — to the sound engineers, who are very, uh… difficult sometimes. That’s the bad side of playing live. The good is that I only need to play one hour [laughs]. But it’s long enough to be very exhausted after that.

I get the impression that you don’t play or DJ as much as the other Ostgut Ton artists. Is that true?

I would love to play more as a DJ, but the problem is that I don’t get any bookings [laughs]. Maybe some. But I don’t play techno music that much, and this is the problem. Because every promoter books DJs from the Ostgut Ton or Berghain to hear techno music or house music, and I’m not a techno or house DJ. Not anymore. So it’s always hard for me to play and to see the promoters eyes going, “Oh god! What a DJ! He’s not the right DJ for today!”

So are you playing more dubstep most of the time now?

Yes, kind of hip-hop, dubstep. House and techno as well. It’s always a big mixture. It’s not easy for the dancers [laughs]. But I need it, I need the mixture.

I just read in FACT that when you buy records, nine of them are dubstep and maybe one…

MAYBE one! [laughs]

…Is techno. How recently did that happen, or how long has your taste been like that?

It’s not my taste. It’s which records are available. There’s no interest in techno. That’s why. It’s not my taste [laughs]. I love techno and I have a lot of techno records. But at the moment I can buy more techno records in a second hand store than in a store for new records. There’s nothing happening right now, nothing interesting.

So why don’t you bill yourself as a dubstep DJ?

No no, I don’t want to be a dubstep DJ! No, no, no… It’s not that I’m into dubstep as well as techno. It’s more that I’m between all of these types. It makes it very difficult to promote myself as a DJ. But…

So what about Disco Shed? I saw that coming up.

[laughs] For instance, as a DJ, I like Diplo. He’s mixing very fast. And all this bam-bam cutting the whole time. This is what I like!

So when you DJ, is it really eclectic like that? You do one song then switch something really different?

Sometimes.

What’s your favorite place to play? Is this (Berghain) still your favorite place, or are there other places that you feel your style works out better?

I think places in Bristol, or at Trouw in Amsterdam. That was surprising to me because it was a house evening, but what I did worked out. So it was OK. But it was more that I was not playing dubstep but more the slower… kind-of-dubstep. And that was good. You can’t play sets like this at the Berghain. It’s impossible. I tried this so many times, I’ve played one dubstep track and it sounds a bit like techno, but it was impossible. You can see on the floor that the people are leaving the floor. It’s impossible.

Have you ever played at Sub:stance?

No!

You think that wouldn’t work either?

Scuba is not… I’m waiting for a offer! He’s not asking me [all laugh]. I have to talk to him. I would love to play there.

Well he recently played as SCB at Panorama Bar, and based on the recording I imagine it’s what you might sound like DJing.

I don’t like it at all. This SCB. Some dubstep guys can’t make techno music. It’s impossible. And here’s an example. It’s not very good. The same way when house producers want to make dubstep, it’s impossible.

Can you describe what it is you’re looking for that’s missing in techno that was there before? What about the techno that’s coming out now is disappointing to you?

I dunno. I think the problem right now is that every techno producer wants to do something like [Marcel] Dettmann or Ben [Klock]. When they do new techno music it always sounds like Berghain. And this is the problem. They don’t try to find their own sound. They always do what others do. And this is the bad thing. They don’t try to find something new. And this is disappointing.

Why do you think that is?

It’s the easiest way.

So, you’re pretty unsatisfied with where techno is at right now. Do you think that motivates you more? Does it make you more creative?

Actually, I don’t care what happens to techno right now. When it’s good it’s good, when it’s not, it’s not my thing. I will not “rescue techno” or whatever — I don’t care. I love techno, but I’m not in the position to help or whatever. I don’t care, actually. [laughs]

It seems like there’s a consistent theme in your music (with Shedding the Past, etc.) that you’re very un-distracted by what came before and what else is going on right now. Why do you think that is?

I have to explain that Shedding the Past is not like I wanted to shed something or to do something new or to leave something behind. It’s more to explain where the name Shed came from. That’s all. It’s a bit ridiculous I know, “Shed” the name — I know! [laughs] It was more to explain the name, where it came from. When I started with my label in 2003, this was the first sentence on my web page — “shedding the past” — but in that time, I thought I had to shed something. And actually the album name came in order to explain “Shed” — I’m not a garden shed or whatever! [all laugh] That’s it. There was a big idea behind it, but not on it, not while I made this album.

In general you have kind of an interesting relationship with your own names. I read that you said you’re not crazy about the name Shed. So will you have more releases as Shed, or are you trying to phase that out?

I dunno. There are so many aliases right now and there are more coming [all laugh]. I have to keep the freedom. Actually I wanted to stop this Shed thing, because I thought it’s too ridiculous — the name. But actually it’s okay. It’s my name right now.

Are Wax and EQD specifically used to get away from Shed?

Actually, these things like Wax or EQD — there is no artist behind it. It’s only tracks for the dance floor. That’s all. There is no artist behind. That’s it. That’s all.

But nonetheless it sounds like you. And people definitely consider Wax or EQD to be alternate names.

Actually I don’t care about all these things. When I play, as a DJ or live, I play also EQD or WAX tracks. But it’s always under the Shed name.

In general I feel right now like the EQD and Wax are really a lot of DJs favorite records to play out. Do you go out to clubs a lot — is the club experience still very important to you?

No.

That’s the impression I got. So how do you come up with such effective records for the party if you’re not that into clubs?

Because I love to make tunes like this! Because I like it. I’m not going to clubs anymore because I play so many times the whole year, so I don’t need to go out. But I love to do club tracks because it’s very easy. You only need to push things. It’s very, very, very easy to do tracks like this which are very functional. I’m not doing tracks with a constructed break or whatever. It only must have a very heavy drums and heavy bass — that’s it. And that’s what I love to do. And it’s a good. It makes… It makes me happy. That’s all. And I dunno why it’s still working, because I don’t go out anymore, but it’s working.

So what about Subsolo? When you’re releasing other people, is it people you’re associated with? Do you hear something at random or do you go through a pile of promos?

No, it’s only for people I know and I like. That’s all. But there’s nothing planned right now. There may be something coming sometime — there are some problems with one artist [laughs]. There are remixes coming, Part II of Dub Shed Sessions. Remixes for Wax No.20002, for this piano thing. Pinch and Elemental are doing remixes. The Pinch remix is finished. It’s good, it’s really good. But Elemental, he needs more time. It’s coming… sometime. In October, November, December. But there’s nothing planned. It’s not very easy to release something because it’s coming through an English distributor, and this makes it more complicated for me. It’s very easy for me to release records through Hard Wax. [Subsolo] is more business for me.

So how do you feel about the business part of it? Is it fulfilling?

No, it’s not. Actually it’s very easy, it’s not that much. I know some other label managers who are always saying, “Oh, it’s so much work! Oh god!” But it’s easy. It’s not that much.

So when you say you release something through Hard Wax, that basically just means you have a bunch of records printed and stamped, then you just stock them at Hard Wax, and that’s it? That’s all you have to do?

Mmhmm.

On the new album you have the track “44A (Hard Wax Forever!)”. Could you just talk a little bit about your relationship with Hard Wax — how much has Hard Wax influenced you?

It’s one of the biggest influences. Because I buy records there since 1992. I always buy records at Hard Wax, that’s it. I collect my records at home like it was at Hard Wax — it’s U.S., it’s Euro, it’s U.K, and it’s dubstep. I think 90% of my records at home are from Hard Wax. I found some old invoices from Hard Wax from 1993 I guess. I lived in Frankfurt, the east side of Frankfurt Oder, former GDR, and it’s so funny to see these invoices from Hard Wax 17 years ago. It’s crazy.

Obviously Hard Wax is one of the most famous techno record stores in the world. What do you think makes it so special? The buying technique, the organization? What is it about Hard Wax that makes it such an exceptional record shop?

Um, I think it’s not the point that we have the best dealers or the friendliest dealers. That’s not the point. All the people working there are musicians. All of them make music. And there’s always the same idea behind this. They only want to do music, they only want to live music. That’s all. Nobody thinks about making a lot of money with this. I think this is the point. They are not working there, it’s more like friends working there. They are involved in the store, and that’s the point. Everybody can say something to the assortment, and sometimes …. Ah, we are friends. It’s hard to get in there as an employee, but when you are in, you are part of it. And that’s the point. They always try to find something new. They have very strong connections to the U.S., to Detroit, to Submerge in the early days, or to downtown in New York. That makes it very special for the U.S. back stock. And I think this is one of the last stores that has this big back stock of old records. This is something special. I think that’s it. And it’s still a store, a physical store.

I read that you said before you worked there you weren’t really that into reggae or dub — it was working there that turned you on to that stuff.

I had to leave [working at Hard Wax] before I started to buy reggae records [laughs]. I bought some. Actually I started to listen to dubstep when I started working at Hard Wax. I’m not so into reggae. I don’t like it, actually. It’s okay, some records are good, there are some pop and cheesy records I love, but not that old stuff.

Was it a difficult decision to leave Hard Wax?

Actually, yes. In the beginning. But then, when I felt, “Oh, it’s easy to go back,” then I felt it was easy. It was a good decision. And I’m there every week, so I can still talk with them. And of course I sell my records through Hard Wax. It’s okay for me to work there doing mail orders, to do packaging and send stuff out. But not in the store. It’s not good for me.

So is this a permanent thing, or are you just taking a break for a while?

Uh, no, I think I will not go there (again). I worked at the store, at the counter, and… I’m not a seller [laughs]. It’s not my thing I guess, so it’s hard for me to work at the shop — too many customers. I worked there for three years and I think it was good, but now it’s over. Now I can make what I want. That means music.

So what’s your lifestyle like? How frequently do you make music? What do you do when you’re not making music, day to day?

Hmmm… I waste my time! [laughs]. I dunno. I don’t make that much music. It’s not that big, it’s not the main time of my life. At this time, I have a lot to do with the album, with promotions, interviews, photographs. And it’s hard work to answer all the emails and make email interviews, then I have to start my new setup for playing live, which at this time is my main task.

Is it still fun for you to play with Marcel? A few months ago you did Deuce at Berghain — do you enjoy that? Do you think that goes well?

I think Deuce was only a trial. But it wasn’t that successful. For us.

Really?

The record was okay. It was selling okay. But it was not that fun for us.

So that’s the only collaboration you’ve done, right? You prefer to work alone?

[nods] Maybe in the future.

Why do you think that is?

Because my ego is very big [laughs]. No, I think the reason is that I know what I want, I know how it has to sound and how it must BE in the end. That’s why. I don’t want to have someone behind me saying, ‘Do it like this,” — No.

It’s kind of interesting how Ostgut Ton and Berghain are becoming a cultural exports, with gigs in New York and Ibiza now.

I don’t like that very much. And I always have to say that I don’t want to be called a “resident DJ” of Berghain, because I’m not. There’s always these “Berghain evenings at club blah blah blah….” It’s killing itself. I think next year it’s over. [laughs]

What do you mean?

This export thing. No one will want to listen anymore to any Berghain or Panorama Bar DJs, because they’re playing everywhere at the moment. I think it’s a bit too much.

In general, does being part of the Ostgut Ton crew help you, or is it a distraction?

Oh it helps. A lot. It makes things very easy for me.

Do you feel like having these artists as your peers affects your music?

The Ostgut artists? [Pauses to think.] I think Marcel Dettmann. I think he’s been an influence. He’s doing things very, he’s not very… He’s not thinking very much at all times. He’s cool, he does what he wants to do, and he makes decisions very quickly, he’s not thinking so much about what things can happen when you do this. I think Marcel.

So you like that way of doing things?

I like it, because I can’t do it! Because I’m always thinking about things. And he’s only doing it — he’s just doing it.

I had heard that you guys give each other feedback on each other’s tracks. Is that true?

Actually, I don’t care about feedback. When the record is finished, they get a copy and that’s it. I don’t try to find out how it works or ‘Is it cool? Is it not cool?’ When it’s not cool, it’s my problem. But I don’t do any promotions, it’s wasting time, I think.

So you don’t do promotion, but you don’t really need to. Do you think in general that people worry about it too much?

I think it’s spam. [laughs]

As someone who’s closely connected to Hard Wax, releasing on Ostgut Ton, do you feel like you have a lot of freedom, that you have less things to worry about than other artists?

No. I think that some other artists think they don’t have any freedoms, and they keep themselves inside of some borders, I dunno. They don’t want to have these freedoms, because they feel safe within these strict lines. They can do more, but they don’t. They think too much about it. They can do more than they are doing. They think that anybody out there wants… ah, forget it [stops himself]. They can do more, but they think they are not in the right position to do something free, something new. Because other DJs are doing the same thing, so they have to do things the same as the others.

OK, final question. On Shedding the Past you said that there was a song that was dedicated to your brother. And now the cover photo on The Traveller is by him.

That’s funny. When I did Shedding the Past, I did the track called “Flat Axe.” It’s because my brother tried to work an axe, and he cut his bone [in his leg] — he was lying in his bed for four months because it was a very sharp axe. And that’s why it’s for my brother. And the new picture, he made while we were traveling through Norway, and he tried to do some photos while we were coming out of a tunnel.

Interview by Will Lynch and Sarah-Joy Murray with thanks to Jordan Rothlein for his contributions.

If you ever have the immense pleasure of meeting Kerstin Egert, you won’t soon forget her radiant ebullience or her buoyant hugs. Her wide smile shines just as brightly in conversation as it does from behind the decks, where she can always be counted on to share a personal, variable, and downright bodacious mix of tunes that cut straight to your emotional core. Despite almost two decades of experience as a DJ and resident for some of the world’s most well-known and respected clubs (from Tresor to the old Ostgut to her current residence at Berghain/Panorama Bar), Egert — alias Tama Sumo — didn’t really step into the global spotlight until 2008 when her first release on appeared Ostgut Ton (produced in partnership with her dear friend and musical ally, Achim Brandenburg, known to most as Prosumer). A few months after the release of “Play Up” and “Brothers and Sisters,” her incredible DJ sounds first graced my ears in the form of her — in my opinion, legendarily awesome — LWE podcast (which, although archived, can be easily found on the Internet). After 16 years of spinning, Ms. Egert finally earned her due respect with the release of the much-anticipated Panorama Bar 02, a mix that would top the charts as the year drew to a close. Months after her popularity boom and the world tour that ensued shortly after, we checked in with Tama Sumo to get the scoop on the Panorama renovations, the state of the Berlin club scene, and where she’s heading next.

So let’s just start at the beginning — when exactly did you first realize that you might want to do this music thing for the rest of your life?

Kerstin Egert: Oooooh. Hmm, well, music was always important for me. I played guitar as a child, but I think it was more or less because it was cheap and it didn’t take much space — can’t really say it’s one of my favorite instruments. I would loved to have played drums or maybe bass guitar or something like that. I spent of lot of time as a child listening to music and spent all my pocket money for records. I think at this age, I thought everybody liked music, and I don’t remember exactly when it became really clear to me that it’s kinda defining my life. Maybe at the end of my twenties?

Did you have a career before you were a DJ?

I studied, and during university I started to DJ. Then I was working for a company doing personal management, a job that I liked a lot — I loved talking to people and it was something that I found quite interesting. But then it was too much to have the full time job and also DJ on the weekends. For 14 years it was a balancing act. So then in 2007 I finally thought, “Ok, maybe I have to make a decision.” And it’s pretty clear which way it went. [laughs]

Where you living in Berlin at that time? Where are you from originally?

Well, I was born in a little village in Bavaria called Mühlhausen, between Nuremberg and Munich. But I was living in Berlin since 1990. I started my first steps into DJing in 1993.

Germany is known for breeding some of music history’s most influential experimental electronic music acts. Did you grow up interested this vein of music, or did you stumble upon it later?

I wish I did, but I didn’t. I grew up in a very little village in Bavaria — and of course we had no computers in the 70′s, when I grew up. It was far away from growing up with cool soul and disco music! So I grew up with mostly mainstream music — what came on the radio, and there were only two radio stations. During my youth, I was more or less forced to listen to some rock music, [laughs] which I actually don’t really like, I don’t really have a feeling for it. But, you have what you have. We also had some Italo disco and some mainstream disco, and by the 80′s of course I got some things like Depeche Mode or whatever. But in the record stores it was all things that everyone knew — there wasn’t any underground.

So when were you first exposed to underground music?

It wasn’t until I left home for university that I first heard other kinds of music. I studied in Erlangen, near Nuremberg, for three years. At this time, Nuremberg had what I thought to be a quite good scene. I went to my first acid house party there and it was totally flashy — it was really so mindblowing to me, so completely different. Even before this, I had started to listen to some independent music. But this scene was totally in the electronic music direction, which was much more my thing, and I was [deep breath] — wow!

Can you think of a moment in those early days when you realized you wanted to be a performer, instead of just a someone in the crowd?

There was an old friend of mine named Holger whom I knew from Nuremberg, who came to Berlin a little after I did. I shared a lot of music with him, we went record buying all the time. He sometimes DJed in Nuremberg and later in Berlin. We talked a lot about music, listened to a lot of music. And then he played at Drama, a house bar in Kreuzberg [Berlin], in 1993. And he was the one who said, ‘Ah, Kerstin, why don’t you DJ?’ He would really insist, forcing me all the time, ‘You have to become a DJ! Music is so important for you.” Because often times I was recording music I liked for my friends, on cassettes — I always liked sharing things. He kept saying, ‘Think over it.’

I’m really more an introverted than an extroverted type. I just kept thinking, ‘No, no… this is such a stage for me, I don’t know if I feel comfortable with that.’ I was refusing this for a long, long time. And then he played at the Drama bar and he was like, ‘Kerstin, I play there regularly, and I would so love if we did it together.’ So he gave me his old record players and said, ‘Try to mix.’ Then, without my knowing, he confirmed a date for the two of us at this bar. If he didn’t, I think I wouldn’t be a DJ today. So it’s due to him that I do it.

So what was it like transitioning from Nuremberg to Berlin? How were the scenes in the two cities different?

I mean compared to Berlin, the clubs in Nuremberg were very nice and a bit chic. Then I came to Berlin, which was completely different, because it was right after the wall came down. There were immediately a lot empty spaces here, and it wasn’t clear to whom they belonged. It was possible for people to throw illegal parties there because nobody lived there, the space belonged to no one. As long as things were this way, people could bring in their sound systems, bring in their party, whatever. It was really weird, I liked that a lot.

It was a dirty atmosphere for sure because nothing was renovated — it was the former East, everything was abandoned. And you had some great locations, like Tresor or the Planet, which was at different locations. There wasn’t this big flier culture at that time, and no Internet, no place where you could go to look what’s going on. It was quite interesting because you had to know the people. So somebody tells you, ‘Oh, there’s a party on Koepenicker Straße! Go through the second door and then up to the third floor….’ It was really amazing, kind of an adventure game.

For me, who came from sober and nice Bavaria, it was a trip! I loved that. And the music was different, too. Whereas in Nuremberg it had been a lot of the nice, cozy acid-housey thing, here in Berlin, techno was the soundtrack to all the political and social things that were going on. At the beginning of the 90′s, there weren’t a lot of places where they’d play house music. It was a more like a really dirty, industrial sound that you could hear in every club — or at least that’s how I perceived it. So for me, at that time, I sometimes found it a bit too hard, because I wasn’t used to it.

In such a historically “techno” city, you have such a warm, housey sound. At what point did it become normal to play house music the way you play it? Or is Berlin still primarily a techno town?

I think Berlin is still more a techno town than a house town. But compared to the 90′s, or the beginning of the 90′s, the house sound has increased a lot. And of course the borders are a lot more fluid. At the beginning of the 90′s, it was more of a distinction if you’re a techno or a house DJ. This or that. This was a bit of a pity, because there was kind and attitude that if you’re cool you play techno, and if you’re “handbag” you play house. At Panorama Bar I love to do that — I love to go from techno to house to techno to disco — for me it’s about playing music that I like, that touches me in some way, and not to just have one genre that I have to fit into. At the beginning of the 90′s, I had the feeling that this was very unwritten rule, that you have to play either THIS or THAT, but not both. It wasn’t until the middle or the end of the 90′s that people started combining the two.

How do you feel like the the scene here in Berlin has changed in more recent history? Especially with the influx of the discount airlines and so-called techno tourism?

Well, I think it’s still a solid place. For sure there are lots more people coming from abroad for a weekend to party, and that does something with the scene. But I think it can get quite interesting. From the view of the DJ: at some point in the past the club scene became so familiar to a lot of people, they know what to expect. But now, because there are so many people coming from abroad, you always have a good mixture of people — some who are from Berlin, who you know (so there’s that family feeling) mixed with some people that nobody knows, who might be here for the first time. I think it can be a good exchange.

To be honest, I think it’s really great when I travel around the world and people have these glowing eyes as they say, “Oh I came to Berghain last month, it was so great!” Maybe this sounds a bit cheesy, but it’s in these moments when you see that music can be something combining, that you can celebrate together — that’s sweet! I’ve gotten to know so many people from all over, even when maybe we didn’t even share the same taste for music. So I guess, to answer the question, sure it changed the scene, but not in a bad way. As long as you stay open-minded and open-hearted! This is why I went to a big city instead of staying in a village where everything has to stay the same.

So you’d say it’s good to have this influx of new people?

It can have good and bad influences – it depends what you make out of the fact that a lot of tourists come to Berlin. Concerning exchanges, in many ways it’s great. But there can be bad influences as well. Not because of the new people that come, but because of the people who think they can make good money from these tourists by repeating the well-working concepts. It’s capitalism. If it’s only the money that motivates people of doing something instead of the heart for something and their interesting ideas, that means you are looking for concepts that fulfill the tastes of the masses, concepts that are easy to get… and this usually bores me to death.

On that note, how do you feel about refurbishments at Panorama Bar at the beginning of this year? Do you think it’s a good thing that the clubs are making enough money now to invest back into their spaces?

I like that they renovate, but at the same time they remain true to themselves as they develop. Berghain always did it. Before Berghain, there was Ostgut. And then when Berghain came, it was something different… but in a way there was something which combined the two clubs as well. I think life is changing, so if there are some changes in the club, why not? I am so happy about the new sound system, and I’m SUPER happy about the wooden dance floor — I could go down on my knees!

You know, it’s quite funny, because today I heard that there are many discussions about the how they changed the picture [in Panorama Bar]?

Oh yes, there are.

I guess there is one group who says, “We want the old picture back.” [laughs] But you have to do the same thing as a DJ as well. Try something new. I’ve been a DJ for 16 years, and I don’t play the same sound for 16 years. There’s still something around which everything new is defined. But the center stays the same.

Photo courtesy of Sven Marquardt

What are some of your favorite clubs and parties you’ve played as a DJ over the years?

There are so many. I love the Süd Electronic party in London a lot. Next to Berghain/Panorama Bar, which of course is my favorite [grinning]. This is a party that won my heart, due to a wonderful promoter, crowd and sound system. Also the party Club House I played in New York with the Underground Quality guys – Jus-Ed, Levon and Anthony I appreciate a lot for the same reasons. I’m really, really happy to know them and that they invited me.

Some other parties and places I’ve really like very very much are, hmm… La Villa in Oslo, Techstock at Reitschule (a kind of collective with a political background in Bern), Trouw in Amsterdam, Silo in Leuven, Pacotek in Jerusalem/Tel Aviv, Cassero in Bologna, Ego Club and Baalsaal in Hamburg, Robert Johnson in Offenbach, Inkonst in Malmö, Rex Club in Paris, Pulstar in Köln, and in Japan I like Unit and Module in Tokyo and Mago in Nagoya.

So now you’re a producer as well as a DJ. How do you feel about producing compared to DJing?

I like producing a lot. There were many years where I was a bit afraid of it, because I’m not very much into the technical stuff. But I have to say a big thank you to Prosumer. I think without him I wouldn’t have done it. He was the one who said, ‘Hey come to my house, let’s do it!’ And he forced me — he took away a lot of my fear about it — ‘Just try it!’

I always thought, ‘Oh, I have to know so many things,’ so his prodding was super helpful to me. At the moment we’re working on a new track for Ostgut Ton. I’ll try to work by myself as well. But I couldn’t at first because I didn’t have the knowledge, and I didn’t have the gear. I wanted to produce with machines, not just with a computer, but I didn’t have the money for it. But after the [Panorama Bar 02] CD came out I had a bit more bookings and I tried to spend some of this money on some gear, and now I can build up my own studio and work alone as well. At the end of last year I bought a synthesizer called Nord Lead 2 and a drum synthesizer, Pearls Syncussion. And finally some studio monitors! And I had a Roland 808 and 101 already – so I guess it’s a good basis now for making music that I like.

Despite all this, I always want to work with Achim because we’re good friends and it’s so much fun to work with him, so inspiring. So I think I’m getting more and more into the producing thing. But I have to say, I do NOT understand why in the music scene it’s such an expectation that if you want to be a DJ, you have to produce, and if you are a producer, you have to DJ. Because I think they’re two totally different things. One should have the chance to go without the other.

So when you go to a record store, can you describe what it is you’re looking for?

I prefer analog sounds — or a least analog sounding sounds. Because I know some producers can do a good job of sounding a bit analog but it’s still done digitally. I really like it if something is a bit dirty, maybe edgy or rough. I need some deepness. I need some funkiness. And sometimes, cheese for me is okay too. Or a bit of a pop attitude. Once in a while I need that. I think I’m looking more to old schoolish sounding things. I’m not really into minimal or much of the new minimal or loopy house sounds, for me, if it sounds very minimal it’s just not much an interest for me. I want some funk. Soul. Deepness. This is all what I like a lot. And some disco as well. And jacking things are always getting me!

What sounds turn you off? Ten seconds and you say NO?

Minimal, minimal house… everything which is only functional bores me to death. You know that it will work at the club when you play it, but there’s no really good idea behind it. It’s just working. And when something is too overloaded, I can’t stand it. I love minimal things in terms of what Robert Hood would do — focus on the important sounds in a track. I think there are a lot of tracks that sound as if they are made in two hours. I sometimes wish that people would spend more time in caring for the sounds, so something sounds more three dimensional, not two dimensional.

Are there some records you never leave home without? Any labels or artists that are always hiding somewhere in your crate?

OK, there is no record which I have always with me. But… It’s so funny. Maybe Marcus Mixx? I usually have one of his records with me. I often have a Soundstream record with me. And for sure records from Achim and Steffi, and I always have Shed with me — I never go anywhere without a Shed record. Shed or Wax or Equalized, one of them.

What else? Hmmm. Some of my most loved labels and producers that I would usually have with me for a set are Ostgut Ton, Uzuri Records, Madd Chaise Inc., Deconstruction/Novel Sound, Underground Quality, Third Ear, Restoration, UniRhythm, Sound Signature, Beautiful Granville, Rush Hour, Delsin, Metrolux, Strength, Soul People Music, Fachwerk, M-Plant, Purpose Maker, FXHE, Dolly, Dekmantel. And I never leave the house for a gig without a lot of old house and techno records from Chicago, Detroit and New York.

Obviously music is your main deal, but in a city like Berlin, I can’t help but wonder if there are any other artforms that inspire your work.

From all the different artforms, I guess movies or video installations inspire me the most. I like movies a lot, especially the small independent ones, and I’m sure that sometimes atmospheres or music in films are also an inspiration for me as a DJ and producer. Achim and I once worked for a documentary TV project and were asked to choose the music for it — we loved that, because it’s a different and very interesting approach to music. Just as well as our work for fashion shows for which we also choose music. Projects like this also have an influence on my DJ work — maybe less concerning the music selection itself, but more the way in which I’m looking for music.

So what’s on the horizon for you?

Prosumer and I did a remix for Mount Kimbie, the track “William,” for Hotflush [to be released April 26]. And then we’re working on a new Ostgut Ton release, a 12 inch, which includes a remix by the Oliverwho Factory from Detroit and which will be released 31 May. And then we have a Japanese gay pop group, they live here in Berlin, and we were asked to do a remix for them as well. They once gave me a CD, and I like what they are doing, so hopefully that will work out. And then there’s an Ostgut Ton compilation coming out later this year. Steffi was asking if I want to do something for her label, but I think, as I said, I’m quite slow. So maybe that’s not for this year. Let’s see.

[BPitch Control]

After four homegrown installations of their Boogy Bytes mix series, BPitch Control broke free of their own roster, judiciously offering the fifth chapter to Berlin’s beloved “baller by definition,” Mr. Troxler. Voted one of the top ten DJs of 2009, it’s comes as no surprise that Troxler’s track selection is as eclectic, varied, and charming as his character is memorable. The mixing is careful and colorful, and the narrative grows more magnetic with each end-to-end listen.

That said, the first five minutes of the mix came dangerously close to causing me to miss it entirely, and what a shame that would have been. Unlike his silly “WGOD, God FM” counterpart from the RA podcast, the voice that introduces this mix offers a little too much commentary for comfort. Sure, the meter is nice, but Troxler’s musical selections paint a picture far more enticing. Perhaps the intro could be more easily dismissed if it had not been followed so immediately by Dinky’s Arp-A-Pella mix of The Royal We’s “Party Guilt” (an admittedly hilarious skit portraying the weekend woes of a celebrity DJ).

Still, once the ramblings have passed, the selection is nothing short of the pure quality we’ve come to expect from Troxler. Catchy, disco-steeped house like Craig Smith & The Revenge’s “The Soul Part II” is met by minimal flashbacks like Hawtin’s 2003 remix of Spektrum’s “Freakbox,” offering the listener an engaging tour. There are some downright toxic moments sprinkled in: Baeka’s “Right At It” tied me into warm, cuddly knots on first listen, and it’s still one of the most hypnotizing cuts I’ve heard in 2010 (though it was released last year). Far more stylistic, the bounce behind Rosina’s lyrical vocals in the Deniz Kurtel remix of “Fables and Fairytales” may not have lasting appeal, but it certainly has stuck-in-my-head-all-day staying power. These are the sort of jewels that leave you yearning for the chance to stumble into more afternoon afterparties with Seth behind the decks. The mix’s crowning moment comes on slowly and seductively, as Troxler’s own Thrill Cosby rendition of Heartthrob’s “Signs” gently unfolds into the new self-titled track from Birds and Souls, a stunning and euphoric collaboration by Sergio Giorgini (of the similarly rock-inspired duo Benoit & Sergio) and Ryan Crosson.

Rumor has it that Troxler recorded this mix in the post-party glow of a weekend well spent. Despite what was no doubt a healthy dose of rave fatigue, Boogy Bytes Vol.05 was allegedly driven to completion at the insistence of a wise friend and a looming deadline. Whether Seth’s genius demands such conditions or works in spite of them, we’ll happily embrace his goofy “bytes” as long as he keeps bringing the “boogy.”

[Perlon]

When I first sampled the little sips of this 12-inch on the Hard Wax website a couple months ago, I immediately felt that tingly warmth in my chest that seems to indicate something worth investigating. After the release of her debut album Night Long last year, Maayan Nidam left me wondering: what next? She seemed to have shed the Miss Fitz moniker for all but remixes, and in stepping into her own name she had moved, too, into a new era of emotional, mature, and even contemplative dance music. While her productions past were always composed with taste and precision, the artful formulation of the full-length upgraded her brand of dry-but-funky minimalism to an intoxicated, swaying jazzy wonderland.

As with most records, it wasn’t until after several homefront listens that my infatuation subsided enough for a clearheaded evaluation. “Don’t Know Why” delivered the same swampy low tones I loved in “La Noche De Ayer,” calling to mind the sloppy, droop-eyed sways off an exhausted dance crowd at 8 a.m. But a few more rotations revealed that beyond the first few moments the track becomes, frankly, a bit of a bore. The chimes are prime, the chords are fine, but ultimately there is no narrative. (Not that there necessarily needs to be one, but it’s something I loved about her last record and many of her DJ sets.) Nevertheless, the reverse side’s “Feels Like” more than redeems any overdue yawns that might creep onto dance floor faces during the chiming lullaby of “Don’t Know Why.” Here, the track unfurls like a lovely nightmare, with a beat that manages to be both punchy and plodding accompanied by dangerous, druggy faux-vocals. A beautifully flittering, perfectly processed melody swims to the surface just long enough to ensure a bit of uncomfortable introspection before plunging down below the bass again. While in the end this release may not yet be Maayan’s magnum opus, it is certainly a stepping stone in the right direction.

Since Steve Bug first discovered him in 2007, Ryo Murakami has been busy giving Japan’s techno scene a good name. Following close on the heels of his deep and dubby Lost It EP, the producer has delivered yet another aural treat from Tokyo. Rarely do house singles have the coherence and consistency found on this release. Put simply, this is just good stuff. The three tracks fit together like the matching pieces of a china set: the slow and sultry title track is the bulbous tea pot, steeping some seriously deep house grooves; the remix is the flare-rimmed teacup, delicately endowed with fresh organic drums; “Untitled” is the wide-mouthed sugar dish, full of party sweets. Each piece earns its distinctive place in the set.

“Just For This” is a careful balance of sloshy chords, taunting strings, and gentle percussion that’s already found its way into the crates of the likes of Jus-Ed and Will Saul. Graeme Clark (aka The Revenge) gives the original his unctuous disco treatment, softening the edges without dampening the funk. Clark’s hesitation to stray too far from the parent track is a testament to the excellence of the source material. And then, with a bass line that is sure to melt many a late-night dancer straight into the floor, “Untitled” brings the jack, unfolding with a soulful gift at every corner. After such a spot-on 12-inch, we can only wait with bated breath for the release of Murakami’s full length, which is due on his own Pan Records later this year. In the meantime, these torrid tracks are sure to evoke some ecstatic dance floor cheers throughout winter 2010.

If you don’t already know the names, nota bene: this three-man acoustic techno team is one part Paul Frick (classically trained musician cum dance music producer) and two parts Scott (aka Dan Brandt and Jan Brauer). After only a handful of releases — all noteworthy — the hubbub surrounding this trio means that each new addition will be met with great expectations. Here, although their self-recorded acoustic sounds are ripe for the picking, the group falls slightly short of their soulful reputation.

“Wallah” begins with stabs of Frick’s characteristic prepared piano, dirty and out-of-tune. Clackety percussion trickles in and around the twinkles before warm chords emerge. After watching the video for “Bop,” it’s hard not to picture the band’s hands as each element appears. On the flip, “Button” starts more mysteriously, a Les Baxter-esque adventure into an exotic village. Fitted with sexy echoes twisting through a loose and lurid soundscape, the B-side’s slink better embodies the allure of BBF’s unplugged mentality. Though there’s much to love in this jaunt into more typical house territory, I suspect the group has far more to offer on their upcoming full length, due in March on Tartelet Records. Their dedication to organic sound could very well put them ahead, but only if they can deliver on the promise. Talk of a 12-man ensemble for their live performance is certainly enticing. Despite the understatement of this release, these three have much to be proud of, including their Berghain performance for the Club Contemporary Classical festival, and a mention of their video on Kanye’s blog), and we have at least two more reasons to anticipate all they have in store. I only hope Frick saves a few of the prime cuts for his own imprint.

[Tsuba Records]

Not yet a year since the release of the first “Tsuba Samurai EP”, the London house label offers up a sequel, “Return of the Samurai.” Though this two-part release brings a keeper to the bin, three remaining tracks are compilation fodder — representative, likable, but altogether unmemorable. Despite its too-restrained style, “Return of the Samurai” is altogether a practice in good taste. Initially I pulled this pick from the pile for its inclusion of David Pher, previously known to me only for his “Harare,” a dynamic gem I first heard in Julietta’s Ibiza Voice podcast. The chants of children appear again here in “Sweet Little Sin,” but with far less levitation than before. An emerging marimba melody makes an attempt at evil, but the edges are too soft, more decorous than dangerous. Nima Gorji can be complimented for the shuffle-inducing, sashaying percussion in “Japanese Sword,” but the goofish warrior vocals are a bit too big for their britches. Phaser effects do little to expand the track, but the near-end, sneak-in melody almost saves an overall growthless track.

“Muramasa” presents the predictable set of round, percussive pings for which Rozzo is well-loved, complimented by sweeping ambient swells lending the track an unanticipated moodiness. The well-paced entrance of the beat lends “Muramasa” the groove it needs to uphold the spooky bells jutting into the mix. But like many of Peter Dildo’s other productions, this track descends as soon as it unfolds and we hardly get a chance to know him here. Tsuba saved the comp’s sleekest skill for the second slab. Two Armadillos’ “Jaz Falutin” starts in motion and stays there, deep and true throughout. Last year the U.K. pair peaked ears with “Nostalgia,” and here again they construct the sort of track that, at its height, has you picturing not only a dance floor full of closed-eyed groovers, but evokes an image of the very musical elements themselves dancing together in their own loopy way. Piano flourishes get down with feel-good pizzicato, bass melodies support the cowbell pops — the smooth rhythms and emotive punches all manage to dance without stepping on each other’s toes. Despite a lack of luster on the rest of the “Return,” this track got me moving, pronto.