In 2005, Berghain’s in-house label Ostgut Ton was founded as an extension of the club’s curatorial ethos, quickly becoming one of the 21st century’s most influential imprints. Across the 2000s and 2010s, its catalog read like a who’s who of Berlin’s techno royalty – Ben Klock, Marcel Dettmann, Shed, Planetary Assault Systems, Martyn, Barker, JASSS, and more. Ostgut Ton not only defined the “Berghain sound” of cavernous kick drums and hypnotic loops but also provided a platform for the lush, soulful counterpoint of the club’s upstairs Panorama Bar. DJs like Steffi, Tama Sumo and Prosumer injected groove into the label to balance the metallic thump from downstairs.
From early on, Ostgut Ton went beyond functional club tools into the realm of concept and art. Its fifth-anniversary compilation, Fünf (2010), used field recordings from within Berghain, literally transforming the creaking metal, humming fridges, and distant thumps of the empty club into music. Five years later, the sprawling Zehn compilation (2015) marked a decade of Ostgut Ton with 30 tracks, ranging from veteran residents to then-new voices like Kobosil and Martyn, presented with artwork by the likes of Wolfgang Tillmans. By the time Ostgut Ton reached its 15th anniversary, it continued to surprise with 2021’s Fünfzehn + 1 compilation, featuring unlikely collaborations (such as Martyn with pianist Duval Timothy) and experimental deconstructions by Jessica Ekomane and Zoë McPherson.
Yet, even institutions built on perpetual motion can stumble. After Fünfzehn + 1 in 2021, Ostgut Ton went quiet. In late 2022, the label shut its doors following the concurrent closure of Ostgut’s booking agency that year. Berlin was awash with rumors that Berghain itself would close by the end of 2022. Though the club didn’t shutter, this four-year hiatus for the label (2021–2025) felt ominous. As nightlife resumed following the pandemic, Berghain’s cultural cachet was in ebb. The snaking queues still formed, and the international press still mythologized its doorman, but something had shifted.
Then, in late 2023, Berghain became the target of a cultural boycott led by the collective Ravers for Palestine as the club remained conspicuously silent on the Israel–Hamas war. A silence that, given its previous benefits to Ukraine, many found hypocritical. Dozens of DJs and artists, from grassroots to more established names, announced they would no longer play at Berghain in protest of the venue's silence on Gaza. For an institution that had always styled itself as an apolitical sanctuary, this was a rare public dent, underscoring how club culture does not float above global politics.
It’s in this atmosphere that Ostgut Ton’s unexpected revival arrives. The new compilation, Klubnacht 01, is pointedly named after Berghain’s signature all-night party and feels like a deliberate return to its roots. The 18-track various artists collection indeed spans the breadth of Ostgut Ton’s twin identities. Its tracklist is carefully split between pummeling techno geared for Berghain’s hall and warmer cuts befitting the glow of Panorama Bar.
Crucially, Klubnacht 01 balances longtime label affiliates with new faces. On one end, stalwarts like Efdemin and Steffi carry the torch. Efdemin’s opening track, “A Thousand Shades of Green,” immediately evokes the deep, stratified sound he and Ostgut Ton helped pioneer in the late 2000s. It is lush techno that feels like descending a spiral staircase into the void. Steffi’s “Soul Clapper” is a standout on the brighter side with the understated funk of her best work. Fellow Panorama Bar veteran Virginia also appears with “Project Vochlea 1,” while Berlin’s analog sorceress JakoJako offers “Evaneszenz.”
The presence of Verraco, a co-founder of Colombia’s TraTraTrax, is a refreshing deviation from the Euro-centric lineups of old. His track “youngblood (la verdad mix)” hints at influences outside the usual Berlin playbook, making it a tacit nod to the reality that the vanguard of club music in 2025 is as likely to emerge from Bogotá as from Kreuzberg. Likewise, Tunisian-born producer Azu Tiwaline collaborates with Cinna Peyghamy on “Chrome Fever,” delivering polyrhythmic flutter and atmospheric desert sounds. Alongside these, newer Berlin-based voices, such as Fadi Mohem and Lydia Eisenblätter, hold down the classic techno front. Mohem’s “Submerge” is a tensile peak-time tool, while Eisenblätter’s “Bliss” explores the more reduced side of the spectrum.
On the Panorama Bar-sounding side of things, a similar push-and-pull exists between comfort and subtle change. Cinthie, a Berlin mainstay who embodies the new generation of Panorama Bar DJs, contributes “Diva.” LADYMONIX, hailing from Detroit, brings an American house perspective with “Move My Body.” And then there’s Hard Ton’s love-it-or-hate-it finale, “Misled,” an electroclash-flavored romp that is a flashback to the campy, hedonistic vibes of mid-2000s European clubbing. It’s going to be a love-it-or-hate-it finale
As a storied label emerging from hibernation, Ostgut Ton faces the dilemma of honoring its famed past while proving necessary in the present. In many ways, this compilation is a careful balancing act. It leans into the label’s history of curating both techno darkness and house light, which will delight those who long for a return of that Ostgut feeling. At the same time, more globally diverse and stylistically varied contributors acknowledge a subtle nudge, at least laterally, beyond the Berlin core.
But after controversies and hiatus, Ostgut Ton’s return was bound to be scrutinized. Its historical reputation set a high bar in shaping techno’s global image. Thus, some listeners will inevitably measure Klubnacht 01 against past milestones. In that comparison, Klubnacht 01 comes off as more conservative. The compilation mirrors Berghain’s own state of flux as a club that remains iconic yet is no longer the sole vanguard of the culture it once led.
Nonetheless, one could also argue that Klubnacht 01’s restraint is itself a reminder of what made the Berghain/Panorama Bar experience compelling in the first place. There’s something almost defiant in Ostgut Ton doubling down on classic techno and house forms. The compilation’s moments most likely to be remembered execute tried-and-true formulas with undeniable finesse. Steffi’s track, for instance, feels like coming home to Panorama Bar at 7 AM. GiGi FM’s “Overseas,” with its loopy, subtly bass-heavy swing, or Verraco’s percussive onslaught, inject enough freshness to show that the needle is indeed moving.
In all, this return of Ostgut Ton will trigger a bittersweet mix of nostalgia and scrutiny as it invites listeners to dance in the familiar shadows of Berghain’s past even as daylight creeps in. As the bass thumps, you can feel the ghosts of Saturday nights swirling with the questions of the present. Ostgut Ton’s legacy is secure, but its future is unwritten.
