from “Blog #1 - It Begins With Kind Stuben” (2020)

“My fondest memories of arriving at Kindl Stuben are actually of the more dark, wintery nights of Berlin. There’s a certain feeling of rounding that final corner onto Sonnenallee —jacket pulled tight — the wind cuts across your face, and as you glance up, you see that nascent light split between the final few awnings. It’s a rounded, lighted sign for Flensburger, and as you approach, all thoughts disappear into a warm curiosity: ‘Should I really play that new song tonight?’, ‘Who’s the feature act this week?’, ‘Is that girl going to be there again?’ And in a moment, you open the door and push through a thick, dark curtain. Daniel’s at the bar; he nods. There’s some Irish folk fiddler on stage playing two songs. Ruby and Dave played first. Next is Piper & True. Then it’s Alice Rose, Loki, Rookling, Vera, and Stephen Paul Taylor. And in the smoking room are all the other local goons catching up, swapping stories, having a cigarette, trying out that new song. It’s warm and it’s home for the next few hours. Noch ein Flensburger, bitte.

But it’s hard to write about folk music. Very easily, it seems, folk descriptions tend into hyperbole and fall prey to stereotyping. Perhaps it’s just hard to write about music in general — this is my first blog post after all. Nonetheless, in the century of the subwoofer, folk music needs to be given its due; everything is just so loud now, so specifically engineered to be loud, and then ironically squeezed through the micro mono speaker on the side of your smartphone. 

Alternatively, I think folk music finds its power in its simplicity. It offers the most naked form of songwriting, composition, and melody, and it offers a platform for storytelling. It is perhaps similar to the way that jazz finds its power through the organic exploration of harmony. Beauty in simplicity. Power in simplicity. Alas, we find no auto-tune here.

Somehow too, it fits the category of Berlin. It is simple, raw, uninhibited, and wears its heart on its sleeve. In some ways it is more representative of the city than the local techno dogmatism is. It speaks to the humble individuality and diversity of the city — isn’t everyone here from somewhere else anyway?”