Neukölln Afterparty on MDMA Hits Day Six; Original Patrons Now Run a Self-Sufficient Commune
Weserstraße warehouse at Weserstraße 112 has been open continuously since Jan. 28; nap rosters, communal baking and a rostered plant-sitting scheme replace the usual door drama
Dancefloor Etiquette & Chemical Sociology Reporter
NEUKÖLLN — What began as a private marathon DJ night at a converted warehouse on Weserstraße 112 on Jan. 28 has entered its sixth uninterrupted day, transforming the original crowd into an organized, self-sufficient commune that issues nap schedules and hands out sourdough.
Organizers say the event, billed as a one-night set by promoter Anja Petrov (stage name: Anja Spin), stretched after the MDMA supply held and the DJ kept “pressing play.” On Feb. 2 at 04:12 a.m., Petrov told The Wedding Times, “People stopped leaving. We adapted. Someone made coffee, someone else started a rota for trash. It became obvious: either close the doors or get on top of this situation.”
By Monday afternoon the venue sported a laminated timetable pinned next to the bar: “12:00 — communal breakfast; 15:00 — nap shift; 19:00 — communal cleaning.” Wristbands, once trophy-like, now function as library cards and lunch passes. Jonas Richter, 31, who lives in Wedding on Gerichtstraße 29 and has been at the venue since night one, said, “I came to dance; now I fold laundry for people I met in the darkroom.” The comment was earnest and disturbing in equal measure.
Residents above the warehouse reported unusual daytime noise and a spike in foot traffic. Kader Toprak, who runs a bakery at Sonnenallee 164, said his sourdough starter was borrowed and never returned. “They left a note: ‘It’s feeding us. We will feed back.’”
Police monitored the site but declined to forcibly close it. Berlin police spokesperson Tobias Grunewald said, “We are observing. So far there are no public-safety thresholds crossed that would justify the use of force.” A sanitation team visited on Feb. 1 to negotiate trash removal and left with a signed rota.
The makeshift commune has its own small economy: a cash box for coffee beans, a schedule for who “wakes up” to check the power, and a quiet library of donated paperbacks (a surprising number of Borges and a dented copy of Deleuze). One volunteer described the scene as Beckettian — repetitive domestic tasks punctuated by the same two people arguing over a lamp — and then apologized for sounding literary.
Consequences are practical: three short-term sublets have been offered in exchange for laundry shifts, and two original patrons applied for temporary Anmeldung support at Rathaus Neukölln because their mailboxes filled with flyers. For now, the party continues. “We’re good at finishing,” Petrov said with a small grin. “We are trying not to finish too quickly.”