For years, my prevailing memory of clubbing in Berlin has been queuing up for hours in the December cold, only to be looked up and down by a hulking German man in a trench coat and told, “You are not vhat ve are looking for.” (In their defence, the club was KitKat and probably not vhat I was looking for, either.) 

This is a worst-case scenario, but it probably feels recognisable to anyone who has partied in the world’s techno capital. On RyanAir flights and high-speed trains to Berlin, people share tips on how dressing in all black and adhering to hidden vibe codes might secure access to the city’s industrial-sized nightclubs, where hedonism and trance-inducing techno beats run for days on end. These experiences have become synonymous with Berlin in the 21st century – in 2023, its techno scene was even added to UNESCO’s list of intangible cultural heritage sites. But, in recent years, the beat of the city has started to shift.

Leading the charge is eclectic Berlin-based house label Toy Tonics, which defines itself in opposition to the old techno gods of Berlin. “We’re coming out of a decade in which a ‘cold mood’ was ruling in fashion and electronic music – dark sounds, black clothes, industrial aesthetics, and aloof behaviour came from the underground and became mainstream,” explains the label’s founder Mathias Modica, also known as DJ and producer Kapote, as we walk to its latest event at the newly-built Studio 1111 venue in Schoneberg. “Being surrounded by so many dark and monotone sounds like techno and trance in Berlin, we wanted Toy Tonics to bring a positive vibe and attitude.”

In keeping with that spirit, Modica is rocking a bright blue cap emblazoned with the words “Fuck Bauhaus” –  a look he describes as a rejection of “the old Gods of German rationality”. Instead, Toy Tonics takes inspiration from “punks like Andy Warhol” and the colourful chaos of German artist Isa Genzken. “These people broke the rules with a certain sprezzatura, as the Italians call it – an ironic ease that carries positivity and an open-minded attitude, rejecting rigid rules and restrictions,” he tells me.

We arrive at Studio 1111 to find the party spilling onto the streets outside and a hip-hop band no one seems to know the name of hosting an impromptu jam session. Forming part of the ongoing Erster Mai (first of May) Labour Day celebrations across the city, the scene marks a powerful contrast with the traditional Berlin clubbing experience of waiting in line in frosty silence. At one point, Modica even points out that their doorperson has taken a step away from her post to freestyle into the microphone. Meanwhile, looking around at my fellow revellers, variously dressed in all-camo, colourful print tees and the odd black leather jacket, I get the impression that my outfit isn’t going to affect my chances of entering the club this time around.

All of this speaks to what Modica insists is the guiding principle of Toy Tonics parties: “Kindness is the new coolness.” “In times where extreme right-wing politicians are known for their arrogance, and when we are surrounded by growing economic problems and new wars, it’s not the time to be cool and cold: it’s the time to be open and friendly.” Modica continues. Indeed, Toy Tonic’s Art Jam was anything but cold that night, with its diffusive, afro-disco-house sets full of melodic trills and explosive drops, and the crowd clapping, singing and screaming along in unison. There were also more than a few members of the crowd getting ‘friendly’ with each other when I left Studio 1111 at 3am that morning.

It’s no surprise that there is a demand for alternatives to Berlin’s techno scene, which is undergoing a period of decline. In recent years, clubs across the city have closed at an unprecedented rate, techno tourism is dwindling, and many argue that Berghain’s UNESCO designation is more of a bandage than a crown – essentially a bid to secure government funding to protect the venue from potential closure. Toy Tonics, which has hosted no less than 190 lively parties in the last year alone, seems to be the exception to this trend.

This emphasis on ‘kindness’ is something I have observed more widely in dance music ever since the pandemic. Just last year, I wrote about how club sonics seemed to be getting increasingly silly, with much-maligned ‘brostep’ pioneer Skrillex now emerging as an unlikely paragon of a new drive towards maximalist and meme-adjacent sonics, embodied in 2026 stars like Underscores and Ninajirachi. As I see it, this shift is a response to the bleakness that has permeated so much of Gen Z’s lives – the pandemic, failing political systems, the rise of the hard-right, endless images of genocide and the twin apocalyptic threats of climate crisis and AI, to name a few. When the world is this grim, so-called ‘silly’ music feeds a craving for unadulterated, escapist fun. 

It’s telling, then, that Skrillex himself will be hosting a two-day takeover of Berlin’s Kraftwerk club this weekend. The techno mecca, which houses Tresor, the city’s oldest and second-biggest techno club after Berghain, is now set to be invaded by – among others – the egregious dubstep sonics of Oxford DJ Hamdi and the colourful cloud rap of Tokyo’s Tohji. In view of widely publicised threats to the city’s nightlife, the event signals a profound change of wind in its techno heartlands.

Lovefoxy, an upbeat house and Detroit-style techno DJ, agrees that a new emphasis on kindness is transforming Berlin’s club landscape: she describes her role as “playing silly, fun music” to take young people away from the pressures of modern society. But for her, this doesn't mean rejecting techno. She points out that the genre has long co-existed with house in the city’s nightclubs – it was only in the last 15 years that techno became the stone-faced, leather-clad monolith it is today. 

“In the 80s, it was more disco-house-y. Techno was definitely around but not to the extent that it [has been recently],” she explains, referencing her mother, who opened Berlin’s first house and techno club back in 1989. “This was before the Berlin Wall fell, and West Berlin became a strong community. People didn’t care about the headliners; it was a loose, fun approach to partying. [In the last decade], the music has become harder, and there’s the myth that you have to dress in all-black to get into Berghain. That definitely isn’t the case. Come as you are, be as you are – that is what Berlin has always stood for.” 

This takes us to the heart of this vibe shift. Far from the stern-faced bouncers and mythical vibe codes that gatekept Berlin’s techno clubs of yesteryear, it seems that all young people today really want is a place where they feel accepted and welcome. Be it techno, house or Skrillex-coded chaos, perhaps a bright future for Berlin’s nightlife can be found in clubs where the doorperson forgets to search you entirely because they’re too busy freestyling over Bob Marley’s “One Love” in the smoking area – or, at least, that’s what happened to me.

Check the gallery above for a closer look inside Toy Tonics Art Jam parties.