© Robert Herrick

Laurel Halo – Berlin Atonal 23, “OPENLESS” (2024)

The first time I attended Atonal was in 2013, which, I believe, was the first year of the modern edition. I stepped out of the dissociative damp cave into the sunlight for a reprieve, and in doing so, I missed a step and tripped on the concrete. In typical Berlin fashion, I got a bunch of “I’m wearing black” stares, where in other contexts, a laugh or a callout may have broken the ice. I remember Russell Haswell thinking it was “fucking cool” that I had bloody, scraped knees and hands that day. Somehow, gravel inside a scrape feels like Atonal to me. Over the years, Atonal became this kind of Berlin experimental music reunion – running into friends from different eras and contexts, amidst ambitious A/V and hypothesizing music performances. It was a dream to premiere the Atlas show with Leila Bordreuil there in 2023, delicately managing Kraftwerk’s sixty-second long reverb and the vicissitudes of acoustic instruments (grand piano, cello) in a space that perhaps rewards controllable electronic sound. Marcel Weber (aka MFO) made a beautiful installation of tall, undulating silver mylar sheets, causing the light to refract as if underwater during the show. I have fond memories of attending and playing there.

LAUREL HALO is a composer, producer, DJ, and host of monthly NTS Radio program “Awe.” Her latest album is Atlas (Awe, 2023).

© Eun Chun

okkyung lee – ba22, ba25

Before playing at the Atonal Festival in 2022 – the first edition since the long-forgotten pandemic – I had only been to Kraftwerk twice, despite spending quite a bit of time in Berlin. The first visit was in 2012, when they restaged Luigi Nono’s opera Al gran sole carico d'amore (In the Bright Sunshine Heavy with Love, 1975). It was mind-blowing: The entire building was transformed into a stage, filled with countless elements woven together. The second time was in 2018 for Christopher Bauder and Kangding Ray’s installatiom SKALAR, where the vast space was illuminated in a way that reshaped my sense of height, material, and atmosphere.

So, when I was invited to perform in 2022, I was extremely curious to hear how this iconic building would respond to heavy electronics and the raw textures of cello noise. Yet, the most striking memory I carry from that festival isn’t about the building’s acoustics at all. It was about how it held – almost embraced – the sheer number of people who gathered to be engulfed in sound together. After years of silence and separation, it was obvious how ecstatic everyone was to share that moment.

When music is your profession, it’s easy to forget its power. That night was a vital reminder – that music doesn’t just sound; it binds, transforms, and makes us feel human again. Even with all the expectations, I just hope to stay open – to the music, the space, and the people it brings together.

okkyung lee is a cellist, improviser, and composer. Her latest album is just like any other day (어느날): background music for your mundane activities (Shelter Press, 2025).

© Marie Staggat

Dimitri Hegemann

I moved to Berlin in 1978, when I was twenty-two or twenty-three, with the 4/4 beat of Joy Division and the Cure and the UK New Wave – that’s what I liked. When I came to West Berlin, I heard music I’d never heard before, from bands like Einstürzende Neubauten, Kiddy Citny’s Sprung aus den Wolken, Die Tödliche Doris, Notorische Reflexe – they had all these fantasy-ful names (Collapsing New Buildings, Leap from the Clouds, the Deadly Doris, Notorious Reflexes). I'm a curious person, so I was going to different concerts. And for me, it was kind of noise.

I really liked the city, with its huge Hinterhöfe (inner courtyards) and the mysterious, empty houses and the Wall. I lived in Kreuzberg, and for me, coming from the village, it was a completely different world. I went to night venues like Risiko – the name says everything – and saw Blixa Bargeld working behind the bar. We drank this coffee where the water had been run for the tenth time through the same powder, because these venues were open till seven or eight in the morning. The quality was something different, but I was totally enthusiastic.

Then, in 1981, I thought about getting together all these bands, which were described as die Berliner Krankheit (Berlin Sickness) or die Geniale Dilletanten (Genial Dilletantes), to demonstrate this new direction in sound and vision. I wanted to change listening attitudes, and I thought this festival could be a kind of brainwashing. I booked the SO36 in Kreuzberg and talked to all these bands – die Haut, Malaria, Einstürzende Neubauten, Kitty – about having a three-day festival.

I had the name, but I didn’t have a logo. I talked to a girl I met in a bar one evening, at Cafe Central on Nollendorfplatz, and I said, I want to do a festival, and I want to call it Berlin Atonal, but I don’t know how to write it down. She said, wait five minutes, I live close to this place. She came back after five, six minutes and brought me the logo we still use today. She made it with her toothbrush!

We then started a magazine, actually – I know a friend who still has a copy of the first one – talking about the Atonal Inneneinrichtung (interior design). We didn’t make any interviews, but went to the artists and made photos of how they lived. Kitty lived in an attic, for instance, with somebody who kept their tapes in the fridge. The magazine is where we put all our money, including what we got from the Senate. We had help from a graphic studio using their machines. The magazine looked a bit weird, but it was great. When I went to the print station, which was on the fourth floor, a crane lowered a palette of ten, twenty thousand copies into the top of my Citroën. It was so heavy that the car collapsed.

That first festival, all the projects were based in Berlin, and I think they demonstrated Berlin in music, the music that could only have happened here, because the life situation was so different. Everybody had cheap rent, and we all had the time to think and to be creative, somehow. There was also, let’s say, a high consciousness here. Many people like myself moved small communities in West Germany at seventeen, eighteen, so they wouldn’t have to join the army. And what grew out of that was critical, also very radical. After the each festival, I was completely bored from standard music, and I always had to give lessons in mathematics and to work hanging posters to pay off all the debts. But that was the way.

The second year, in 1983, we decided to bring in more international artists, mostly people who had never been in continental Europe before. We invited Psychic TV from London, with Genesis P-Orridge. We had a different venue, too, an old factory in Wedding called the Pankehallen. When we first went to the space, there was a circus with camels and wild animals that were wintering inside. Luckily, there was a second hall next door, and during the festival, I got all the camels into the crowd!

And so it went on. Sometimes, I didn’t see anything going on in the world, and then I would take a break. In 1984, we did nothing. In 1985, we went to the Ballhaus Perlebergerstr. and brought in Test Dept. They went to a junkyard the week before and got all these huge containers on stage for the concert. They were so heavy that, after the show, we couldn’t get rid of them. It took weeks, and I had huge trouble with the owner of the space. And Jesus Christ, you know, after a festival, nobody is there who might help you. Nobody.

Normally, at Atonal, the crowd stood in front of the stage, you know, for entertainment. There were so many things happening: body painting, or Einsturzende Neubauten working with completely new instruments, screwing holes in the wall. I remember sitting backstage at SO36 with a friend of mine, and all the sudden a drill bit came through the wall. BUMP. Can you imagine? I was shocked. You could kill somebody! I always said it was not just listening; you saw the music.

Anyway, after the Wall came down, we planned the festival for March 1990, at the Künstlerhaus Bethanien. We invited Jeff Mills, with his project Final Cut, and Clock DVA – the music was already a little bit electronic. And this time, the people were not standing in front of the stage, expecting a miracle; they were dancing. We were all very excited about this development. Exactly one year later, we opened Tresor, and I had to make a break with Atonal.

Jeff and some other friends from Detroit also had a new project, called Underground Resistance, who formed a bridge when they came over to Berlin. The people here were waiting for new sounds, and what swept over was music without words, without melodies. We did not expect that it would really work, but it did. It changed Berlin. It changed Germany. It changed Europe.

DIMITRI HEGEMANN is the co-founder of Berlin Atonal and the owner of the Berlin nightclub Tresor, as well as a cultural activist and community organizer. Tresor Records’ latest release is Black Sites’ R4 (2025).

Alessandro Cortini – ba15, ba16, ba19, Berlin Atonal 23

It’s hard to quantify Atonal’s impact on the local Berlin scene, but its mark on my life, both professional and personal, is undeniably strong. I found a community of friends and music lovers who are always at the forefront of innovation, always striving to present a unique yet cohesive experience that is not limited to the event itself; rather, it expands to the whole philosophy and entity that is experimental music. A community of which I am a part, that I feel extremely connected to, thanks to what the Atonal collective has been able to achieve throughout the years.

In a few words, Atonal is the pinnacle.

ALESSANDRO CORTINI is a musician, composer, instrument builder, and member of Nine Inch Nails. His latest record is NATI INFINITI (Mute Records, 2024).

Valentina Magaletti – ba22, Berlin Atonal 23

What Atonal has meant to Berlin, for me, is the establishment of a stage where experimental practices are not marginal, but central. I’ve played there a few times and have always admired the way it has expanded its programming year by year, becoming more organic and diverse. At its best, the festival reclaims the city’s spaces – especially Kraftwerk – and transforms them into resonant bodies. Yet its influence extends beyond architecture: It shaped how Berliners think about the link between avant-garde music, club culture, and art. It has sometimes felt like a mirror of the city’s ambitions, and other times like a refuge from them.

VALENTINA MAGALETTI is a drummer, percussionist, and composer. Her latest LP is Kansai Bruises (AD93, 2025) with YPY.

© Mario Bergmann

Shackleton – ba15, ba17, ba19

I don’t think I’m best suited to talking about Atonal in terms of fits artistic impact or such on Berlin. I know that the guys behind it, Laurens von Oswald and Harry Glass, have always shown a lot of faith in me, and in return, I’ve tried to bring interesting projects to Atonal every time I’ve been asked to play. I have always felt I’ve been given a free hand, and I really appreciate that. This says to me that they have confidence in and trust the artists. To my mind, there is a continuity with the original conception of Atonal, insomuch as I don’t really see the organizers pandering to any particular prevailing trend or conceptual norm – the strength of it lies in the musical curation rather than changing the cultural landscape of Berlin. I just think those guys are into the music they showcase, and they are really happy when they can bring something to a bigger audience that they think is worthy of attention.

SHACKLETON is an electronic music producer and the founder of the labels Skull Disco and Woe to the Septic Heart! His latest record is In The Cell of Dreams (Live Version) (7K!, 2025), with Wacław Zimpel & Siddhartha Belmannu.

© Kasia Zacharko

Ziúr – b19, ba21, Berlin Atonal 23, ba25

I’m about to play Berlin Atonal for the fourth time now, and the energy level of all my past performances never dipped below 100%. This kinda says a lot for me, especially in terms of how comfortable and alive I’ve felt while playing music there.

Apart from my own shows, I enjoy a good family meeting and the overall cray of a five-day marathon we all go through together somehow. While the dark circles under our eyes increase daily, the smiles of my fellow marathon participants get bigger as well, and I’m always here to connect through some zombie-type bonding moment.

In a broader cultural sense, Atonal’s lineup is always on point, to (almost) no comparison. The fact that this brings out a wild bunch of artists and an audience to fill Kraftwerk, Tresor and OHM at the same time, underlines the madness of it all. It shows me that there’s life beyond techno, and we can thrive if we dare.

I’m deeply impressed by how the whole street block has been saved as a cultural hub due to establishing the Tresor Foundation. The fact that this block will never be part of the housing market ever again makes me be very hopeful and happy.

ZIÚR is a Berlin-based DJ and producer. Her latest record is Home (Kuboraum Editions, 2025).

© Oppa (Chihiro Lia Ottsu)

Mark Reeder – berlin atonal (1982), ba15, ba17

West Berlin’s avant-garde scene really began evolving into its own experimental entity in 1979, with Gudrun Gut, Bettina Köster, and Beate Bartel starting performing as Mania D. In early 1980, Blixa Bargeld and Andrew Unruh formed Einstürzende Neubauten, and the holy trinity would soon be completed with Wolfgang Müller’s Die Tödliche Doris. These bands each performed a completely unconventional sound, mainly using unconventional instruments and ideas, adding to the ethos of punk and new wave a dark and abstract style. It caused a huge ripple of excitement.

The international importance of this abstract atonal music had been elevated through the genre’s instigators: Throbbing Gristle, and especially through their two legendary Berlin performances in SO36 in November 1980. Their label, Industrial Records, had started to give definition to a genre that sounded like noise from a factory floor. They were able to ignite the idea that you didn’t need to write proper pop songs to become an avant-garde performer; you just made it up as you went along. As an innocent bystander, what you witnessed was a one-off work of abstract art, which was usually an impossible performance to explain. Within the confines of walled-in West Berlin, we realized that anything goes.

Dimitri Hegemann wanted to establish a larger platform for this style of aural expression. He himself was another West German pacifist Wehrpflichtfluchtling (draft dodger), who had arrived in West Berlin in the early 1980s. He, too, had started a new-wave band, called Leningrad Sandwich, together with two British teenagers who had escaped to Berlin, only to end up part of the squatter scene. Leningrad played practically everywhere and anywhere, including an amusing tour of Imbisse (snack bars) around the city.

He invited my band, Die Unbekannten (The Unknowns), to perform during a festival at SO36. He had already experienced a few of our haphazard performances and thought we were abstract enough to bookend the bill, as what I assumed would be its most melodic band. In reality, we were trying to write proper songs, but due to our inability and technical incompetence, our gigs always sounded … abstract. We thought our presence would be a kind of easier-listening interlude in the Atonal cacophony of sound.

For this special gig, we decided to flesh out our set a little bit, with a new-wavey cover of one of our favorite soul songs, The Marvelettes’ “When You’re Young and in Love” (1967). I wanted it to be experimentally minimalist, with Thomas Wydler playing a simple jazzy, repeating rim shot on his snare drum, myself on bass, and Alistair Gray on vocals, and using the reverb and general noise of the SO36 room as a fourth instrument. With sincere soulful conviction, Alistair crooned his way through – and it went down like a ton of bricks. The crowd, restlessly avaricious, had no patience for such soothing-sounding music, and only expected blatantly abstract, noisy chaos. Thankfully, they didn’t beer-can us off stage.

MARK REEDER is a musician, DJ, and founder of the label MFS. His latest record is the original film score to B-Movie (Lust & Sound in West Berlin 79-89) (Edel, 2025) with Micha Adam.

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Berlin Atonal
Kraftwerk, Berlin
27–31 Aug 2025