Jimmy Trash is an OG Berlin multihyphenate: DJ, musician, filmmaker, promoter, podcaster, mental health worker. He moved from Australia to Berlin in 2006 at the age of 23 and quickly made a name as a party starter and scene builder. As a DJ, he’s a deep-diving music scholar, with an encyclopedic knowledge of every record he plays. He’s been a founder and member of some of the city’s most seminal bands, taking them to the brink of commercial success before blowing them up and starting again.
His Trashfest festivals were wild, messy and essential – giving underexposed acts and genres the spotlight they deserved. He’s also made films with reach, and his most recent project is his Songlines podcast, where he takes an in-depth look at moments in history where music, politics and culture collide. Now, after almost two decades, he’s leaving Berlin. We sat down with him for an exit interview to find out why he’s leaving and what we can learn from his experience.
The Berlin bubble popped for me.
Why did you decide to leave Berlin after 18 years?
First and foremost, I felt a very spiritual hole in my heart that I haven’t spent enough time with my family. Secondly, a feeling of being a bit undervalued from a financial perspective. I’ve been disappointed and I felt a political change in the local government. The Berlin bubble popped for me. I feel like what’s happening in Berlin now means that the city is participating in the same politics as the rest of Germany.
When you visit another German city, you realise the freedoms you have in Berlin, but now it feels like those politics are creeping in here too. It’s not a safe zone for people to speak how they want to speak. It’s not a free place to protest. The Berlin safety bubble has popped. I’m very proud to be a part of the resistance here, to be vocal and be on what I would say is on the right side of history. But it wears you down, and this feeling that I want to be with my family at this moment is a lot stronger because of that too.
What did you think of the way you have been treated by Berlin?
Berlin has treated me incredibly well. I had to keep renewing a visa, [and] every time I went through the experience I had to ask myself, do I still want to live here? Do I want to go through this Ausländerbehörde experience again? And I always had a reason to stay. It was a constant reanalysis. I do have a little bit of burnout that things got a bit harder in the last few years, but that doesn’t mean Berlin owes me, you know? I owe Berlin for all of this life.
What are the biggest challenges you have faced living in Berlin?
Adultisation! I mean, it’s another trope of Berlin, but I’ve had to really address this in therapy. When I came, I had just turned 23 and you don’t have the same pressures. There is this 100% party culture and the ability to not think about what’s going on because you always have something new to do. I think probably a lot of people could identify with that. You get to a point where you realise there’s a few parts of your personality that you haven’t developed, especially if you’re a long-term Berliner.
What is the biggest change in the city that you’ve seen, and how has it impacted you?
The change in the price of living. I noticed ever since I had to work more full-time than part-time, my creative output is much less. These podcasts that I’m doing now take me forever when I don’t think they should – it’s just ’cause working makes you tired. I had a time in my life here where I was a full-time professional DJ and you realise that you go from one good time to the next and can pay rent and eat well. It’s also good that I have more responsibilities now, but I didn’t come here to work.
How do you feel about the state of the Berlin music scene that you’re leaving?
Right now I’m not disappointed in this scene at all. I’m leaving on a very high note. The music that I’m now into – the more global south or pan-Arabic scenes – are really strong here. There’s these huge-ass parties for South American Latin culture. I’ve been working with the people at AL.Berlin and they have such a direction to what they are booking.
I think it is amazing that these scenes have a home here. And it goes even further than that. There’s a lot of North African and West Asian communities that are also queer communities. Knowing that Berlin took in these refugees and gave them a queer home away from what they were escaping – what could possibly be more positive than that? Seeing that that is a part of culture here, it needs to be protected at all costs. I’m very proud to be a part of this scene.
What’s one of your wildest highlights?
There’s some things that I’ve sat on that I haven’t known if I could tell anyone because they’re sensitive. I’ve DJ’d to royals and gentry of Italy, Scotland and France while high on acid. That was an incredible-ass party.
Looking to the future, what do you think is the biggest risk for Berlin?
Berlin has enjoyed hundreds of years as an important cultural hub. Go back through the last century and you can find absolute high points of culture. The risk of losing that to become a tech state, the risk of losing that to become a place where people don’t have freedom of speech and freedom of thought, is great. People will always fight here too, but there’s a risk that art and culture won’t be what people immediately think of when they think of Berlin.
Would you ever consider living in Berlin again?
No, I don’t see a future here where I want to come back. Wherever I am, I’m going be a part of the community culture, being DIY and supporting movements. I feel as I get older, I am moving into a teacher role, I don’t want to be a part of the up-and-comers anymore. I want to be there to help others, and it’s not here that I want to do that. I think I can be much better help in other places. It means I learned German for nothing!
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