Wild West on the banks of the Spree, and Polish hip-hop

So, cultures meld instead of clash. Or blend. But that would imply delicacy and grace. Whatever.

A first part of the evening: The opening of a wild-west themed beach and flea market, built to look more or less frontier-style (don’t forget the Wild West massage) on the banks of the Spree. BBQ hamburgers and beer, a quick game of tischfussball, a longer spell watching Germany crush Colombia, and then a series of country, rockabilly, bluesy bands. Some were American. Some from undetermined elsewhere. The main question: What is it with Germany and the American West?

Whatever it is, it’s funny. Two thumbs up. I’ll have another hamburger.

Oh, yeah, mechanical bull. We didn’t ride it. But it was there.

Then on to a club in the stony cellar of a castle-looking building, where Ninja Tune’s latest Polish sensation Skalpel descended with all kinds of chaotic cut-up goodness on the local club crowd. We bobbed our heads, got our feet moving just a little, and mainly laughed. More energy than pure dance goodness. In theory, they draw from the history of underground, and illegal Polish jazz. In practice, maybe for their live club shows, it’s a crazy cut up mix that’s half them shouting and half weird cut-ups until it descends into them spinning a Swedish track that sounds like George Michael, and we leave.

Now we notice that the Northern sky is bright at 3 AM. We can see the white nights, even if we don’t have them ourselves.