The Unkindness of Ravens in Berlin: Postcard # 3

We now officially know what it's like to be baked in an oven. The last few days in Berlin have had the temperatures of a ten-bird roast, baking away the flesh till it's turned to dust. The fact that we played a gig on a Friday night didn't make it any easier to deal with the heat, and by the third song in, we were soaked to the bone with sweat.

The venue was CCCP (also known as USSR amongst the cab drivers). If you're into thick-velvet curtains and over-stuffed chaise-longs with broken springs and leggy Russian girls serving you at the bar, then I recommend you take a visit.

The last time we had a drink there it was January and as we were hiding out from the cold; we found ourselves in a dark red cave, with couples cowering in the corner, whispering in the shadows. CCCP has a tendency to feel surreal and one can't ignore the sheen of sleaziness, however, to play a gig there somehow makes all the difference.

After soaking the stage, we found ourselves praised with a roaring applause and the stains of kisses on our cheeks from new found fans only confirmed that we played a great show. And having burnt off 1000 calories or so, we replenished our souls with beer and cigarettes, ready to continue the celebration of noise with old and new friends and fans.

In no time, we were whisked off to 8MM bar, our favourite hang out. It's a little dark dive, the length and width of a large hallway; on the far wall films are projected ranging from French porn to Kubrick movies to Schlagermusic videos.

The DJ's are a blessing with their exquisite musical taste - but one thing you have to be prepared for when you hit 8MM is that time no longer exists. You'll know what I mean when you eventually stumble out of the joint, the stream of sunlight burning your eyes as you desperately seek out a taxi to escape the new day before it burns holes in your skin.

Berlin never sleeps. Gigs begin around midnight and clubs are pumping throughout the weekend with no closing breaks in between. And if you're at the bar, chewing the fat with some random artist you're bound to lose track of the time, then what's better anyway? It's great to have a good ol' chin wag with a new found friend after you've just blown an audience out of the water with a great performance.

We love it here. They're gonna have to drag us out of this town.