A forlorn disco ball counting down the time remaining hangs at the entrance of the beloved Berlin club Wilde Renate, known only as Renate, which is rapidly heading into its final nights of wild abandon.
Unlike its more hyped cousin Berghain and posher late sister Watergate, Renate has long stood for a certain more relaxed type of Berlin-brand partying – more poor than sexy to borrow the capital’s lamented motto.
The club, a ramshackle garden leading to a maze-like block of derelict flats playing EDM, house and techno handpicked by live DJs on each floor, has welcomed visitors from across the city and around the world for 18 years.
Instead of dress codes and picky or menacing bouncers, there were “welcoming” bartenders and a vibe like a “giant house party”, said guests on a recent Friday night. There were even rumours of a resident cat.
“I’ve always loved this old building with all its levels,” said Philipp Wittwer, a 34-year-old engineer out with friends. “It’s like a haunted house – there are so many rooms I’ve never seen, even after coming for years.”
But in late December the bash will be over. And for several other clubs making up the city’s unique nightlife, the writing is on the wall.
Many cities including London, Paris and New York have experienced a rash of late-night venue closures, creating depressing “night-time deserts” where there once was a vibrant scene.
Berghain is probably the most famous club in Berlin. Photograph: Dpa Picture Alliance/Alamy
But for a European capital that like no other built its reputation on fun and decadence, the pain is especially palpable in Berlin. Before the pandemic, the industry contributed, directly and indirectly, about €1.5bn (£1.3bn) to the chronically cash-strapped economy each year.
According to the left-leaning daily Tageszeitung, Clubsterben (the death of clubs) will fuel “the march of commercialisation” in Berlin. It said: “When they only open for snot-nosed brats, solvent tourists or company events, you’ll hardly be able to speak of ‘Berlin club culture’.”
Nightlife veterans at Renate also saw the ground shifting beneath their feet.
Berliner Rouven Kelling, 30, said: “If the alternative places all die out then all you’ll have are the mainstream clubs where you hear the same music everywhere and only drink Aperol Spritzes. Then we’ll get the kind of tourists we don’t want – it’ll be all Instagram models and TikTok people.”
As low-tempo techno with French pop samples drifted from the speakers, Rodrigo Lobos, 29, a warehouse manager from Sweden, said the “chill atmosphere” had lured him and his girlfriend, Emily Solis, 25, into Renate.
“In Stockholm the clubs close at 3am but here you can go non-stop,” he said, sipping a beer he said would cost him twice as much back home.
People walk past a mural reading ‘Clubs instead of climate crisis’ on a wall next to the About Blank club in Ostkreuz, Berlin. Photograph: Odd Andersen/AFP/Getty Images
Solis, a receptionist, said she’d see little point in making the trip if Berlin’s fabled clubs vanished: “I’m here for the party.”
The reasons for Renate’s looming demise are multifaceted.
The owner of the site, a major local property developer, reportedly wants to build on the site of Renate’s cherished garden.
Unlike Berghain, the techno temple and hedonist attraction that helped put the city on the global party map in the 2000s, Renate does not own its own premises and its lease will run out at the end of the year. The club did not respond to requests for comment.
Popular spots Mensch Meier and Re:mise both closed in 2023, while institutions such as About Blank, Club Ost, OXI, VOID and Else have all appeared on the endangered list due in part to the planned expansion of an autobahn.
Laura Gülcker, 34, a product developer, said she came from a rural western German town once a year for clubbing.
She said that compared with “more corporate” discos with bottle service in cities like Düsseldorf, Berlin had spots that were “really relaxed, diverse – beautiful”. Gülcker likened Renate’s garden to an “enchanted forest” with its mature trees and rickety gazebos festooned with antique chandeliers.
Her friend Verena Tekaat, a 31-year-old working in the textile industry, said for two women heading into the night together, it was a big plus that Berlin’s nightclubs were not marooned in remote districts.
Renate is a ramshackle garden leading to a maze-like block of derelict flats playing EDM, house and techno. Photograph: Timothy Shoot/Alamy
Emiko Gejic, spokesperson for the Clubcommission Berlin, representing the sector’s interests, said rising rents, soaring energy costs and the pressures of gentrification on the once-cheap and abundant real estate market have put the pinch on the nightclub scene, which traces its freewheeling origins to the Weimar republic a century ago.
Germany’s “oldest and biggest” gay disco, SchwuZ, this month declared itself bankrupt after nearly half a century in business, falling victim to inflation, management troubles and the existence of dating apps, among other factors.
Gejic said noise complaints had also driven many popular spots out of the city centre, as has the financial squeeze on people of peak clubbing age due to surging rents.
The drop in alcohol consumption among younger people has also sapped clubs of crucial income, leading many to hike prices at the door. Party nights now routinely cost €20 and upwards.
Watergate closed down after 22 years. Photograph: travelstock44/Alamy
Low-cost airlines once delivered party people from across Europe to Berlin for a weekend bacchanalia, with many visitors forgoing a hotel in favour of a two-night dance marathon before collapsing into sleep on the return flight.
However, high taxes and airport fees at the little-loved new international hub BER have pushed budget carriers out of Berlin.
Today, a common fixture of the local party scene is a cluster of revellers gathered on benches outside a Späti (late-night convenience shop) with canned drinks and a playlist blasting from a mobile phone.
Gejic insisted all was not lost, noting the pioneer spirit that gave rise to clubs in abandoned industrial spaces after the Berlin Wall fell could be found in “young, community-based collectives” organising parties in unexpected places around town.
“I’m rather hopeful when I look at the scene creating new formats, getting involved, showing great solidarity and being politically active,” she said. “That’s the scene that I think will also break new ground in future.”
