Features
Das Haus
To most of us, dance music in Croatia means beach festivals and boat parties. But inland lies Das Haus, a run-down mansion hosting a bi-monthly party that's every bit as important to the country's clubbing identity.
Analogue synths come in and out of play, never staying for any unwelcome duration and returning after the texture has been tempered by the warmth of contemporary, American deep house or a bolder melody of Detroit inspiration.
Tonight's DJ, Jakov Kolbas, gets his biggest reaction from a cut on Crème Organization, whose DJ TLR has played here. Previous guests include Sweden's Pjotr, Chicago's m50, Ron Wilson, DJ Pegasuz, Vancouver's Frivolous plus three regulars from Berlin's comparable venue, Salon Zur Wilden Renate: Adam Aalias and Peak & Swift. Omar S gets a couple of airings, as do tracks on Workshop, Smallville and L.I.E.S. Live act SOK is as unshowy as his dressed-down DJ peers, his Chicago-inspired beats indistinguishable from their selections – particularly the following DJ, Savage, whose excursion commences with the same 303 sound on which SOK bows out. There's no disco, no 'classics' and almost no vocals throughout. The closest we get to something that's actually sung is 'Barry Two' by Frits Wentink, one of several curveballs aired by Brighton.
"Zagreb has developed its own sound recently," he says. "It's not that refined yet, but it does tell you that something is happening here. We don't like vocals at all. Too many vocals have a positive vibe, and I guess that just doesn't express where we're at. It has to be darker, like raw machines. Not too bright, not too cheerful. The worst thing you can do to the crowd here is play something they'd regard as cheesy. They're too hard, too clued-up and there's no gentleness in them at all. I don't know if it's the life out here or what, but they're tougher than other people. "Zagreb has developed its own sound recently," he says. "It's not that refined yet, but it does tell you that something is happening here. We don't like vocals at all. Too many vocals have a positive vibe, and I guess that just doesn't express where we're at. It has to be darker, like raw machines. Not too bright, not too cheerful. The worst thing you can do to the crowd here is play something they'd regard as cheesy. They're too hard, too clued-up and there's no gentleness in them at all. I don't know if it's the life out here or what, but they're tougher than other people. They have a much darker edge. They like their jokes hardcore, they like their music raw and they like getting really fucked up."
In 2011 the small but brave number of 300 marchers at the first Gay Pride march in Split were attacked with rocks, tear gas and glass bottles by some of the 10,000 anti-gay protesters that had lined the streets of Croatia's second city to meet them. Less than a decade earlier, Zagreb's own Pride parade was similarly attacked.
Mislav and his boyfriend, both 22, are among the youngest punters here tonight and have travelled from Ivanić-grad, 38 kilometres on the opposite side of Zagreb, to be here. Theirs is a small town where at weekends, folk from the surrounding villages come to party to a soundtrack of mostly Serbian turbo-folk known locally as cajke. Das Haus is not a gay night, and there are exclusively gay clubs in the centre of Zagreb that the pair could easily have visited instead. But it's not just the liberal mind-set of the crowd that they've come for.
"The music here is fantastic", says Mislav's boyfriend Bernard, who is an amateur music producer. "We heard of the party maybe two years ago, but didn't come because it was too far," says Mislav. "The first time was less than a year ago and we came by the first bus in the morning, after we'd be at clubs in the centre all night. It's OK to do that here because the parties can go on until 4pm in the warmer months."
"The people were so friendly that it really took our hearts," adds Bernard. "We could talk with anyone. It didn't matter that we were so much younger than many of the people here."
"If I went out in my home town or even some places in Zagreb, I would feel that I had to put a mask on, to hide my sexuality," says Mislav. "But at Das Haus I feel like nobody is watching me, it feels like anything goes. There are freaky people here, and it's so dark, on New Year's Eve were all over each other on the dancefloor. We wouldn't dare do that in other places."
"Das Haus has a special energy and a special crowd," says Ivana as the party draws towards its 11am close.
"It's like some magical territory. On the coast, at the festivals, sure, people go wild. It's summer and the tourists are trying to get the most out of their week in the sun. They play a lot more summery house, lots of vocals. All the tourists are drunk and happy, and they all sing along. It's like the music is just for them. Das Haus is more relaxed than that. It's friendly and welcoming to outsiders, but it feels like it's ours. We needed it, so we built it."
[Photos: Davor Birt]
