DJ BOOTHS: Open Ground
I Went To Wuppertal to discover Open Ground and All I Got Was a Hazy Glimpse Into the Future of Nightclubs
When it was built in 1901, the Wuppertal Schwebebahn was the world's first suspension railway. It’s insectine legs straddle the river Wupper, which splits the centre of the valley, and its elevated spine snakes between buildings throughout the city. There is an industrial brutality to the rusty green frame which imposes itself above the narrow streets, although this quickly dissipates when one of it’s hanging carriages glides overhead. Of the 11 suspension railways still active around the world it is the oldest by more than 80 years, and when confronted by the Schwebebahn in person, it really does feel closer to something from a science-fiction novel than a contemporary mass-transport system. In the ruins of the cultural and industrial modernity that led to its construction, riding the Schwebebahn feels like slipping into an alternative future that never came to pass. So impressive is the structure that it often seems to steal the show when visitors arrive in Wuppertal for its other major landmark, the recently opened Open Ground, a new club hidden away in a World War 2 bunker under the city’s central square. Since it opened in December, Open Ground has captured the imagination of partygoers across Europe and set tongues wagging in smoking areas worldwide. In the short time it has been open, the club has already developed a big reputation for its impressive sound, unique setting and razor-sharp attention to detail. The club’s website hosts an impressive guestbook, with an all-star roster of dance music heavyweights taking turns to stoke the club’s growing reputation. Amongst the fawning reviews you can find Surgeon detailing how the club’s custom-built Funktion One soundsystem is “like nothing I ever heard before” and Om Unit likening it to “the core of a fusion reactor.”
With all this in mind, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of scepticism mixed in with my excitement for my night in Wuppertal. But, even with such an outsize reputation, the space that greets you really does feel special. The concrete and glass concourse that winds down from the clubs entrance and continues along towards the dancefloor is futuristic and minimal. All of the staff that greet you are friendly and seem enthused to have such an impressive space on their doorstep. The club’s corridors are dimly-lit with plenty of corners to hide away from the crowds and the lighting set-up in the mainroom is impressive without being overbearing or distracting from the music. Not that anything could distract you from the sheer force and intricacy of the sound that is emitted from the club’s custom built speakers. Standing in the middle of the dancefloor, you are immediately gripped by a level of detail and definition that you might associate with high end monitor headphones, along with the pressure you might associate with a dub soundsystem. When both of these come together the resulting effect ensures a level of focus and intensity unlike any venue I’ve come across. This commitment to ensuring the highest-possible quality experience is unsurising for a club founded by Hard Wax’s Markus Riedel, with consultation throughout the process from Mark Ernestus, half of legendary dub-techno pioneers Basic Channel. Nevertheless, it is rare that any club is able to make the impact that Open Ground has in such a short space of time, with many of our fellow revellers making the journey from the UK, Netherlands and rest of Germany to experience what was becoming a storied room. The arrival of Open Ground may lead many to conclude that Wuppertal is a city of relentless experimentation. More than a century ago it provided the backdrop for the construction of the Schwebebahn, an impressive feat of engineering for its time, and now it plays host to a club that seems plucked from the future and dropped into the present day. However, those familiar with the area will tell you that this is not the case. In the weeks leading up to my visit, any Germans I spoke to were shocked that a tourist would even consider to visit Wuppertal, let alone be excited about the trip. Despite its impressive nightclub and metro system, it is just another sleepy German town. The steep valley that towers on either side of the Wupper gives it an isolated feeling and, while it was once home to some booming heavy industry, a walk around the centre may give the impression that its best days are behind it. Not even the thick walls of the air raid bunker could prevent some of this atmosphere seeping into Open Ground itself. Apart from a few fortunate locals and my fellow curious interlopers, there wasn’t much sense of a real local scene present. Some of the locals we spoke to seemed fairly disinterested in the DJs on show, and others non-plussed by their impressive surroundings. While the dancefloor filled up nicely for the peak hours, only a handful of us remained for the last hours of the night. These troubles are certainly not the fault of Open Ground and its founders, but only serve to reinforce how impressive it is that the club has built the reputation it has in such a short time. It feels like every week we read of another club closing due to financial difficulties or trouble with local authorities and Open Ground feels like a timely remedy to this. If opening a high-spec club in a sleepy regional town under a hostile economic and political climate is a gamble, the club’s founders appear to be playing their hand as well as they possibly could. In many ways Open Ground feels caught at a crossroads that may just define the way that we view our cherished venues for years to come. We are living through a period where the rate at which our small local venues are closing feels relentless. In response to this, many venues are ramping up their social media activities and looking to build their reputations outside of their scenes. What might feel lost in this is what many misty-eyed older ravers remind us was made the parties of their youths so special. The experience of turning up to the same club almost every weekend, whatever the lineup, knowing that the faces that greeted you would be familiar and welcoming. If such an ideal of a local scene feels overly sentimental that might tell us more about how bleak the outlook for our local scenes is in the present day.
These local scenes have been the foundation of most of what is exciting for dance music as a whole since it first emerged, but they have never felt so at risk. The venues that seem to thrive are those that can offer big rooms, bigger lineups and the photogenic lighting setups that look so good all over social media. Add in a ticket that often costs upwards of €30 and it feels a far cry from the intimate local parties many reminisce about. Open Ground feels like an antidote to this. While the lineups feature some heavy-hitters, they also feature some exciting up-and-coming talent and a healthy dose of locals. And, while there weren’t enough to fill the club, the locals we spoke to seemed excited about what the arival of this UFO-like club can bring. I have no doubt that its founders will want to use this space to build a healthy local community that rivals thriving cities like Bristol or Brussels, what remains to be seen is whether they succeed in an era increasingly hostile to small venues. When the Schwebebahn was first opened at the turn of the 20th century, it did so amidst a time of widespread optimism about technological and social progress. At the time, it may have felt for many like this train of the future would become the norm in a few decades time. However, in the present it appears a relic from a forgotten time. Openground finds itself in a radically different context. Many clubs are only just managing to stay afloat amidst economic crisis and a hostile policy environent, yet this new arrival feels imbued with a sense of futuristic optimism. Might Open Ground change the fortunes of this sleepy hillside industrial town, or, like the Schwebebahn, will it become a monument to a future never realised? ________ Editor: Joe Leonard-Walters