Rest in peace Festsaal Kreuzberg.

Rest in peace Festsaal Kreuzberg.

Dearly beloved, 

We are gathered here today to show our respect and love for without a doubt, one of the best music venues in the world. It’s a sad, sad day for the thousands and millions of bands who will now never get to grace that wonderful stage or perhaps, piss on people from the balcony, like Cole Alexander, of the Black Lips did.

But let’s take a second, mourn, and then put Festsaal Kreuzberg right there in the list of names of rock stars that died before their time, pour a little liquor on the sidewalk and show some love.

They say it’s better to burn out than to fade away, and if that’s true, well, God bless the Festsaal Kreuzberg, because it burned out, literally.

Could have gone out like CBGB’S, but no way, not you. You went out like a savage rock God.


Thank you Festsaal. It was on your stage that I got to play bass with Jeffrey Lewis AND Stanley Brinks, my two favorite song writers.



I saw the Spits and King Khan and the Shrines, and Ty Segall jumped on my head, and the crowds were always so up for it.

As an American, it was a concert hall like I have never seen. Festsaal gone is just adding insult to the already painful injury Berlin is feeling in the rising asshole levels. In a weird way, I can’t blame you for going out now, it’s not getting any better. ANYWAY.

We’re here to clearly say,

Thank you.

It was also on your stage where I had one of my worst stand up sets ever, at Trashfest 3, which for me was so fun, maybe even one I’ll remember forever, but for people in the audience, maybe not so much.

I went out, told one joke, and realized I was dead in the water. Too many drunk people.

I went into “BOMBING KILL MODE” and proceeded to explain, in a funny way why comedians bomb.

People want music, shitty audience won’t shut up, bright lights, my jokes stink, I didn’t practice, high stage, not enough attention, Spanish people, “I MEAN IT’S CALLED TRASHFEST!” and so on and so on, and so on.


As I melted down into nothingness, and eventually just sat there smoking a cigarette while people kind of murmured, my friend heard a guy say,

“Who the fuck is this asshole, he’s HORRIBLE!”

That went on for a very uncomfortable ten minutes in which I did my best Andy Kaufman.

I said my version of thank you, which might have been,

“My name is David Deery, please never exist in my paradigm again. Better yet, kill yourselves, you’re horrible people, Goodnight.”

As I went to the side of the stage DM Bob was there. He smiled, shook my hand, and said,

“Hey man, that was fuckin genius. WOW. I loved it.”

Because THAT’S the kind of company you keep Festsaal Kreuzberg.

We will miss you. We will tell stories about you. We will remember you.

And hopefully,


In the name of rock and roll,


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