It’s in the small, loud pockets of the city that Berlin’s culture has always taken shape. As silence settles over former local hotspots like Zum Starken August, Loophole, Watt Bar and soon Das Gift – a bar and micro-venue facing closure after 16 years – that silence will speak louder than the noise ever did.
Walking in the front door to Das Gift is like sinking into a well-worn armchair; sure, it’s been a while since you’ve cleaned it, but there’s no other spot that gives that sense of belonging. “It’s a comfort spot, a regular’s spot,” says Vivien, a longtime regular who now works behind the bar. “And now it’s closing down because of basically… noise,” she continues. “I think that’s a really sad thing.”
Founded in 2010 by Mogwai musician Barry Burns and his wife Rachel, Das Gift quickly became a meeting spot for Berlin’s English-speaking crowd. Since then, the bar has shifted hands and changed shape, going from a whisky pub to a spoken word poetry and comedy venue. Through all of this, Das Gift has stayed a haven for artists, queers and anyone not too picky about the quality of their Guinness pour.
We’re trying to make the moral case that by closing this place, you’re harming the community. You’re going to silence us… It’s creating loneliness in our neighbourhood.
The lease for Das Gift is up in 2026 and owner Raphael Korn has been informed it will not be renewed, a situation in which he has no legal recourse. “We’re trying to make the moral case that by closing this place, you’re harming the community. You’re going to silence us… It’s creating loneliness in our neighbourhood.”
“As soon as we reopened after Covid, we had noise complaints,” Korn says. Two neighbours began logging daily reports, and the landlord, Claudia Vetter, told him they would need to pay an additional amount per month to offset the disturbance, which they agreed to, but the complaints continued. Das Gift sits in a Mischgebiet, a mixed-use commercial and residential zone, where noise after 10pm is limited to 45 decibels, about the level of a quiet office. Even if we open the front door on a normal evening, the noise from the street is already too loud,” Korn says. Vetter repeatedly told them they would need soundproofing, which is costly and often out of reach for small bars, so Korn sought support from the Club Commission.
The Club Commission (with support from the Berlin Senate) offers grants for noise control-related renovations, but the process is slow and requires landlord approval. “They gave us a long to-do list, and it took almost a year to get through it,” says former manager Geva Dor. Sound engineers who assured them the problem could be fixed, but when the bar finally needed permission to carry out the work, Korn says the landlord stopped responding. “She told us, I don’t think you need soundproofing anymore,” he recalls. Dor remembers her adding that the bar was not “a cultural space,” but just “a loud bar in the middle of nowhere.”
Korn and Dor have reached a certain level of acceptance about the struggle, but they also see it as emblematic of a broader crisis. “This industry is a fucking mess at the moment,” Dor says. “Now I realise the mess that the industry is struggling with is not because of the customers, not the rising prices. It’s the landlords.” Vetter did not respond to requests for comment. Korn has been threatened with legal consequences if he comments on the contract at all.
In the past years, several long-standing cultural hotspots have been lost due to noise-related issues. Earlier this year, the famous burlesque bar Zum Starken August closed their doors permanently, and, in 2024, Loophole was forced to close after a raid by the Ordnungsamt, which happened because of noise complaints from the neighbours. “Neukölln is known to be loud and a hotspot for nightlife, which is an integral part of the city’s culture and economy,” said Loophole organiser Hannah Gonzalez to The Berliner in 2024. In most of these cases, venue owners are ultimately dependent on their landlords, who may decide not to renew leases once noise conflicts escalate. Unlike residential renting, commercial leases have few safeguards, and contracts are typically limited to fixed terms. But spaces like these do more than sell drinks; they shape culture.
The Berlin Senate has acknowledged this for larger venues. In 2021, clubs were formally recognised in planning law as cultural sites rather than entertainment businesses, which made it easier for them to access support and negotiate their place in the city. Smaller neighborhood cultural spaces, however, currently have no such designation, despite their role in scene building, hosting emerging artists and keeping local culture alive. Speaking to the Berliner Morgenpost, Watt Bar owner Sindy Kliche said plainly: “When it comes to commercial rents, it’s a lawless area and business owners are fair game. The law needs to be amended.”
For me, it’s about having an inclusive space. A creative, inventive, pioneering space.
There is some good news. A recent decision by the Berlin Administrative Court ruled that Schwarzsauer, a long-running bar in Prenzlauer Berg, may continue serving guests outdoors after 10pm despite noise complaints. The court argued that in established nightlife areas, evening social noise is part of the normal urban environment. More importantly, it stated that gathering, talking and being outside together at night is part of Berlin’s cultural character, not simply a disturbance to remove. The ruling won’t resolve every conflict, but it could serve as an important precedent for smaller cultural venues in mixed-use zones.
Korn doesn’t know what comes next for Das Gift, but his vision for the venue remains clear. “For me, it’s about having an inclusive space. A creative, inventive, pioneering space. And that means not only not being racist or homophobic, but also encouraging communities that don’t usually get a voice, encouraging new art forms which aren’t completely established and giving them a space.”
While the closures of larger spaces dominate the headlines, local institutions that have shaped the city for decades go quiet without notice. Maybe it’s time we make some noise, and speak out for change before the city falls silent for good.
