In 1980, Monika Döring was told that she had just months to live. A terminal heart condition. Thinking it was now or never, she put all her savings towards one last hurrah: a festival to raise awareness about the dangers of hard drugs, titled Rock Against Junk. The event was a success; as so often, Döring had hit the nail on the head – something that could not be said of her doctors’ prognosis. Instead of succumbing to her illness, Berlin’s most legendary event organiser continued to champion the city’s music scene for another three decades, until she died on May 2 of this year at the grand old age of 87.
“Monika was a unique person,” says her long-time friend, musician and record producer Mark Reeder, who first met Döring when she was in the middle of preparations for Rock Against Junk. “She always thought, ‘fuck it, I’m gonna die anyway, I’m just gonna do it, this is the last chance.’ And because of that, she did everything with a huge energy, and it was never about the money – that inspired me and all of us around her.”
Reeder had moved from Manchester to Berlin just two years prior as the German representative of Factory records, and Döring reached out to him because she wanted the English singer Ted Milton to play at the festival with his band Blurt. Reeder helped organise the gig and was blown away by Döring’s enthusiasm for music. This was the start of a 40-year-long friendship that played out against the backdrop of Berlin’s legendary nightlife. “Berlin’s 80s scene was defined by Monika. She supported local artists, she loved the unconventional above all and looked for that in bands, too,” Reeder says.
She was warm-hearted, sincere – you got what you got.
Döring herself was unconventional as well. Born in Berlin 1937, her early life was shaped by classical music. Döring’s grandmother had a music shop, and her father and sister were both opera singers. Her own classical music journey started with free jazz, then she quickly segued into other genres until she fell in love with progressive rock and punk. By the 1970s, she was a significant part of West Berlin’s cultural and music scene.
She opened Charlottenburg’s Schwarzes Cafe with her friends and was one of the initiators of the Tunix Congress at Technische Universität in 1978, started organising punk concerts in the Music Hall in Steglitz in 1981, and founded Monster, Mythen, Mutationen, the music festival forerunner of Berlin Atonal. Döring was also part of the left-wing sociocritical political movement of West Germany, the Studentenbewegung (“student movement”), through which she met her husband, Heiner.
With her engaging personality and passion for progressive rock, she even got involved with Berlin’s Senate Department for Culture and Europe and convinced them that the city needed a rock club. As a result, Döring founded Loft in the early 80s, an event agency and music venue, located at Schöneberg’s Nollendorfplatz. During Döring’s tenure, the venue hosted more than 800 international and local artists, many of whom were brought over from East Germany.
While the club is no more, the agency is still up and running today, organising gigs and concerts across Berlin. Döring championed bands way before they were known, and she would give just about anyone a chance – and a microphone – if she liked them. The Berlin-based punk-rock band Die Ärzte started their career at Loft, for example, and Einstürzende Neubauten played 10 gigs at the club. But she also hosted Berlin debuts for artists like Björk, The Bangles, Laibach, Sonic Youth, Nick Cave, Public Enemy, LL Cool J, and Run D.M.C. – artists who’d later fill arenas across the world.
“She paved the path internationally,” says Reeder. “She knew everyone and everyone knew her. And she was always right about bands!” Döring was a legend; her extravagant looks, platinum-blond hair, outspokenness and adventurous lifestyle made it impossible not to be. For those who entered the Berlin music scene, she was the undisputed queen of the city’s nightlife, but for those closest to her, she was much more than that.
She did everything with a huge energy, and it was never about the money – that inspired me and all of us around her.
“She was warm-hearted, sincere – you got what you got. She would give anyone her absolute honest opinion; she was never one for bullshitting people. She would also feed us: she would come and make us lunch, and we would listen to music, all kinds of music! And we would go to gigs. And she made the best chocolate mousse!” remembers Reeder, who, just like many of Döring’s friends, worked at Loft alongside her. “I was a bouncer,” he laughs, “but people felt comfortable there, they didn’t feel intimidated and we never had any trouble. I think a party starts at the door!”
In 1987, Döring handed over the management of Loft to her assistant, Irmgard Schmitz, and then, with the fall of the Wall two years later, she helped welcome an era of musical diversity. “Things were changing in Berlin at the end of the 80s, people were not so into rock anymore. Techno came in, and it took a while for her to find her niche,” Reeder remembers. He started his own record label, Mastermind for Success MFs, in 1990, but Döring thought the music he released was too soft.
Eventually, she found her speciality in avant-garde electronic music and goa trance, and began organising psytrance parties, becoming an important part of the electronic scene, too. “She loved that the city had become so diverse and all kinds of different music was happening,” says Reeder.
Up until the very end, Döring remained stoically youthful and active, frequently attending parties up until only a few years ago, when her eyesight and hearing started to deteriorate. Just weeks before her passing, she went to see Einstürzende Neubauten at silent green. Döring died as she lived: in her final days, she was surrounded and looked after by her closest friends; at her “departure party” in May, there was music.
“She didn’t want a conventional funeral, so she asked for a departure party. I also DJ’d and I made everyone dance,” says Reeder, smiling. “But she will never go away. We have to carry on her legacy and the lessons she taught us: life is too short and you only have one go. What’s the worst that can happen? Monika taught me that people can achieve so much more if they get over the trivial.”
The 1980s snapshots of Döring were taken by photographer Ulrike Elinor Richter.
