Open Ground

Besides, Berlin might be a victim of its cool cachet but there are surely plenty of places that trend-setters would choose as fresh stomping ground before decamping to this industrial agglomeration. So I was surprised when a friend came to me raving about a new venue called Open Ground, a club that DJs were dying to play and was quickly gathering a reputation for putting on nights worth writing about.

Even more remarkable was the location: the latest spot to see was none other than Wuppertal, a city known mainly for its monorail and Pina Bausch. If you’re not German there’s no reason you’d have heard of it. But Open Ground has now been operational for a year and word is getting around. I started noticing the club’s minimal graphic, a webplayer soundwave, stuck in washrooms and record stores.

When the good folks behind Meakusma – the celebration of experimental electronica (and much more) – announced a trip to Wuppertal, featuring Brussels favourites Sagat and Mankiyan and others who had animated dancefloors at the festival, I duly marked it in the diary. The deal was sealed when a bus was organised to ferry fifty merrymakers from Brussels, a door-to-door proposition that blew away any lingering logistical reservations.

Morale was high on the journey out, with festival acquaintances rekindled and chatter about the night ahead. Most of us were uninitiated to the Open Ground experience and a palpable spirit of adventure had us excitedly trading tales of formative nights out, all agreed that this too would be one to look back on. As the bus rolled into the valley known as Wuppertal, a sleek capsule cruised over our heads and snaked away down the river. Momentarily morphed from clubbers to trainspotters, the bus cheered in unison. Perfect timing.

I’d arranged to meet Markus Riedel, the force behind this project, before procedures got underway. As the rest of the crew went for pizza I headed to Café 23, the only part of Open Ground to be seen at street level. It stands in a central shopping zone with little to draw the eye. That’s the point: the club itself is imperceptible. Only when up close do you notice a neat hole cut into the forecourt. I headed into the warmth of the café and tucked into a home-baked strudel. Markus soon arrived, a calm character I reckoned to be somewhere over 60. We made our introductions and stepped into a lift that transported us from tea room to subterranean cavern.

In a former life, Open Ground was a World War II shelter, dug right in the heart of the city as safe harbour from Allied bombfall. But when its life-saving duties were no longer needed it was sealed and forgotten. It wasn’t until 2010 that local authorities unearthed the concrete cocoon and sought an occupant. Just a stone’s throw from the train station and in an area recently redeveloped, the unconventional space was undeniably interesting. But what to do with it? There’s no set formula when it comes to repurposing old bunkers.

“The city wanted a music venue but didn’t have much idea what form this would take. It’s not the first place you’d think to put a club but they were happy for us to take over the site.” It was his brother Thomas who was first approached to do something with the space. As owner of Riedel Communications,  Thomas is a prominent figure in Wuppertal and his company’s hardware is known throughout the broadcasting industry. Without his backing, Open Ground wouldn’t be possible. “There’s no bank loan to make this happen. And it’s not like we get big arts subsidies or anything. The club exists thanks to my brother,” Markus explains, though he holds back from revealing the costs of such an undertaking. Suffice to say, it’s a brotherly bond that goes beyond financial transactions.

Whilst money is of course a concern, it’s far from being the main motivation. Quizzed on why he’d attempt such a venture, Markus describes the unusual opportunity that this venue presented. “For all my professional life I never did anything really important. Suddenly I had the chance to lead a major project that has a big imprint on the area where I’m from and really shape things. It’s a massive kick.” He talks of his 20 years working for Hard Wax, the legendary Berlin record store that provided plenty of opportunities to delve into music biz, not just selling vinyl but also forays into the live scene. “The Hard Wax crew are like family but here I can shake up the local scene in a way that would never be possible in Berlin.”

As well as a lifelong affinity with the electronic music scene, it’s clear that Open Ground comes out of an uncompromising quest for perfection. The corridors and antechambers that lead to the club’s main room give no indication of the technical challenges that had to be overcome. Even the most critical eye will struggle to find a flaw, with soft lighting accentuating the clean lines that tell of precision at every phase of the project. But the vision was seven years in the making, set back by unforeseen complications, the pandemic, and an obsessive drive to create the best venue possible. The space breathes quality from every surface, with concrete plinths in the lobby to lounge on and thick planks of local massif oak forming a bench the length of a wall. It all feels bombproof but with an aesthetic that’s not at all oppressive.

“I’m really deep into the construction and that whole design side is for me equally fascinating.” Markus guides me through the underground complex, pointing to neat features that have all been carefully considered. The walls are all lined with 40cm of insulation – compacted polyester filled with a mineral wool that can soak up reflections across the entire audible frequency range. The floors are all mastic asphalt that is practical and sonically neutralising. The ceilings have been raised to allow the sound to breathe. This involved slicing through thousands of cubic metres of concrete shell. Then there’s the air-conditioning, which is a marvel in itself; not only were the ventilation channels re-routed to not interfere with the speakers, the cooling uses the river, which was dredged and diverted to flow through the venue. “The water temperature rises 2-4 degrees by passing through here. It’s really complex but sustainable.”

I’m introduced to Hannes, who works for the distributor of Funktion-One speakers in Germany and is part of the Open Ground family. “This place is something else,” he assures me. He runs me through the acoustic accomplishments of the main room as Portuguese producer Polido blends ambient synth samples with broken beats. You can feel the frequencies tickle the skin and raise hairs on your neck. But it’s not overwhelming, more like bathing in the sound. “I never need earplugs here,” he informs me as we discuss the astounding clarity of sound.

If audio fidelity is your thing, this is the place for you. I tried in vain to locate a dead area, jiving around the room and trying not to look too suspect. Thankfully I wasn’t the only one. Since day one Open Ground has nurtured an almost mystical aura, with DJs getting emotional when they recall hearing their sets as never before. They talk in the highest terms about uncovering frequencies normally buried in noise. The system’s superlative reputation prompts many to prepare something special, tweaking material or altering their equipment in search of sonic purity. Sagat’s series of modulators are a formidable arsenal that hammer and clang with compelling rhythms. He spent two hours soundchecking to remove the compression and distortion that normally harness his formidable machines. “Best sound ever” was the verdict after he’d executed a thrilling performance.

The Funktion-One founder Tony Andrews describes how the system keeps frequencies in neat “packets”. Combined with thick absorption there is minimal bleed and conversation is perfectly possible, as the frequencies of the human voice effectively fit between those played through the system. I bump into Arthur, the venue’s curator, overseeing proceedings from the sidelines. “It’s like being in a massive listening bar,” I tell him, a compliment on the exceptional sound experience. “It’s  definitely a club,” he counters. “You get 800 people in here and there’s no doubt about what this space is.” Tonight is perhaps just over half capacity and some additional human energy would no doubt change the dynamic. This isn’t just a playground for sound nerds.

Open Ground is the full package, Hannes agrees. “You could put different speakers in here and it would still be an amazing club. The toilets are clean and don’t smell, cloakrooms are free, drinks are reasonably priced. I do a night here and feel great the day after. Yes, the sound is good but it’s everything else that makes this an amazing club. Above all it’s the team that make this something truly special.” Attention to detail is a rather German cliché. But it’s there everywhere you look. Hannes excitedly points out more subtle features: bespoke benches; wrought-iron ash trays that even the drunkest punters are unlikely to topple; and (personal favourite) a ledge around the DJ booths, cupped to minimise the risk of spillages and lined with rubber so that glasses don’t rattle.

The club is clearly a technical triumph, though Markus is modest in this respect: “I would never say it’s the best sound. I only aim to make the sound as good as possible.” But beyond the awesome system, how’s the venture going as a whole? “There’s certainly space to grow,” I’m told. The venue’s gathering momentum but it’s counting on crowds from beyond Wuppertal to fill out and pretty much everyone I talked to on the night came from further afield. Those who were German tended to be within a few hours’ train journey. But others had come from Berlin and some even had flown in.

Markus is optimistic on this point and reminds me that we’re at the heart of Europe’s most densely populated area, within striking distance from major capitals and with plenty of transport options. Added to this is a varied programme: “It’s not just techno, we do UK bass, house nights, jungle, grime, even some live acts.” There’s also a smaller second room – the annex – that was a water reservoir of the original bunker and was only discovered when the work got underway. The room is elongated, with speakers at each end. Standing in the middle gives an unusually strong stereo effect, an almost cinematic surround sound moves around the booth in the middle.

The two rooms have distinct characteristics and nights often serve up a breadth of genres to appeal to a wider range of tastes. But it hasn’t been easy filling the dancefloor, especially in the winter months at the start of the year. “It’s a reality of being in North Rhine Westphalia, people aren’t yet used to it as a place for good music.”

Open Ground is on a mission to change this and Markus is under no illusions about the time investment for things to pick up. His plan is simple: nail all the details and the crowds will come. I wonder if any other spaces have served as inspiration. Markus flips the question: “The aim was to create a space with none of the drawbacks you find in other clubs. I never liked being made to queue for ages; I don’t like clubs being difficult about door policies. And many places are cold towards clients. We’re welcoming and that’s entirely real.”

The night unfolds with the crowd revolving between the different spaces, eager to spend time in each of the areas and sharing our impressions. The Brussels contingent gradually gravitated towards the main room, where Mankiyan was on closing duty. Dark dubby swells rumbled around the room, the growl of the subs surging between bouncing bodies. Nods of approval were exchanged as we were swept up in a moody groove that pulled us into step. And excitement peaked as the war-like saxophone of Nicolini’s Stretch dat neck piped out over a springy beat, the haunting melody drenched in reverb seemed suspended somewhere above the dance floor. It gave me goosebumps.

Wide-eyed at the intensity of the moment, we went marching out into the night, left in no doubt that Wuppertal’s star is rising.