Femi Kuti brings Positive Force and four decades of inherited, lived political Afrobeat to a Neukölln ballroom built for ordinary people — a pairing that feels less like booking and more like recognition.
Juana Molina brings three decades of uncategorisable, loop-built sound to silent green's domed former crematorium — a room built for final departures hosting an artist who has made a career of refusing to stay in one place.
A ten-piece instrumental collective born on a São Paulo street named for the abolition of slavery brings fifteen years of wordless, politically charged Afrobeat-samba-funk to the vaulted former military stables of Gretchen, where the architecture might be the only thing capable of pushing all that brass back down to earth.
Imarhan built their own studio in Tamanrasset, recorded a dying legend's final songs, and turned infrastructure into insurgency — on 15 April they bring that sovereignty to Gretchen's repurposed imperial vaults.
When a cellist who holds migration and memory against her chest enters MONOM's 4DSOUND system, the instrument's intimacy meets a technology designed to abolish the idea of a single source — and the tension between closeness and dispersion becomes the performance itself.
Cairokee built their name in Tahrir Square, but fifteen years later the harder question follows them to Huxleys Neue Welt: what does a revolution's soundtrack mean when the square has emptied and the band is still playing.
Nearly thirty years after a gravelly voice declared the car on fire and no driver at the wheel, Godspeed You! Black Emperor bring their slow-gathering, tectonic patience to Festsaal Kreuzberg — and the conditions that produced those words have only grown more precise.
Fifty pianos tuned to disagree with each other fill a former industrial hall in Oberschöneweide, and Georg Friedrich Haas asks you to sit in the middle of all eleven thousand strings while Klangforum Wien helps dismantle three centuries of temperament.
A voice banned from every stage in its homeland for over four decades fills the neo-Gothic vaults of a Kreuzberg church built for one kind of devotion and now consecrated by another.
At Berlin's Kammermusiksaal, Mari Boine brings four decades of reclaimed joik and unclassifiable sonic force into a room built for the kind of listening her voice demands.