By Jonas Oppermann
A large group of people are standing in front of what looks like an abandoned office building in North Charlottenburg, a district of West Berlin. They are all dressed in long black coats, smoking cigarettes. Only a small sign on the outside wall says QS1.
Inside, a dull kick drum punches, barely noticeable at first. I step in and find a bar, a proper sound system, acoustic treatment, moving lights, and of course, people.
This DIY space was built with such professionalism that it can compete with most Berlin clubs.
This is Quedlinburger Strasse 11, the former home of QS1, a collective that has not stopped growing. Today, QS1 does many things. They organise events, lease studio space to artists, and design custom studios in and around Berlin—all for the love of sound and community.
What’s the story behind the first QS1 space?
Diego Soto and Lorenzo Jacobsen are old school friends from Frankfurt with a shared obsession for high-quality sound. After losing touch for a while, they met again in Berlin, a city defined by nightlife, record stores, and clubs.
Already working in nightlife, buying turntables and records was a natural next step—a small life goal the two had saved up money for.
But apartments in the city are small, and in Berlin, neighbours tend to complain often about sound, so blasting music every night was not an option.
We needed a space where we could actually go and play music—somewhere we could be loud.
After some searching, they stumbled on a small, 20-square-meter room in the basement of an old office building in North Charlottenburg. The owner said, “You can’t live here, but if you keep it within limits, you’re welcome to use it.”
What was the first QS1 space like?
Finding the space felt like something out of post-reunification Berlin, when many buildings in East Berlin were vacant, squatted, and used for creative projects, after the Wall came down in 1989.
Soon, more people started visiting—playing records, making music, or simply hanging out. One was the Berlin-based artist Aaron Benjes, aka Freigeist, who became a regular behind the decks. The space became a welcome refuge for people searching for something alternative to the big clubs of the city.
“On Fridays, friends could have a beer with us and play music. The community grew very naturally,” the duo says.
As more rooms of the old building became available, they expanded—always on a limited budget.
One room became a photography studio. One became a wood workshop. Another was turned into a small bar where friends could celebrate birthdays.
Over time, QS1 drew a diverse crowd: Berghain DJs, newcomers, artists, nerds, and even parents.
One member, Max Theodor, started shooting portraits in the entrance hallway with his father’s old camera, which were later shown in an exhibition—a glimpse of the multidisciplinary energy the space nurtured.
How did you two start experimenting with sound?
With so many more people involved in the space, Diego and Lorenzo focused on what mattered most to them: sound. Both had studied sound engineering, and at QS1, theory became practice.
“We realised we had a lot of reverb in the room and wanted our speakers to sound good,” Diego says. “So we researched. The BBC has great papers on acoustics. We read about materials like rockwool and, through trial and error, built our first acoustic panels.”
“In the second year of university, we were planning acoustics on paper,” Lorenzo adds. “I was the only one actually bringing panels I’d built myself.”
The duo wasn’t afraid to experiment, adding windows, knocking down walls, and asking builders for advice.
That first space is gone. Where does QS1 live now?
Since the building in Charlottenburg was destined for demolition, there was no pressure to keep it pristine, and that freedom let them learn by doing.
By now, the vacant building in Charlottenburg has been demolished, but what remains are the ideas that originated there.
From that first location, their ideas and discoveries about sound moved and grew into a bigger space in Berlin Weißensee—a space with more structure, more people, but still the same creative DIY energy.
What began as early DIY experiments in acoustic treatment in that first Charlottenburg space has evolved into a real business. In a city like Berlin, with its high concentration of DJs and producers, the need was clear: artists needed proper studio spaces, and many needed soundproofing in their private apartments.
Today, QS1 is not only a collective, representing different artists and throwing parties, but is also a company that builds studio spaces for clients and rents out self-built spaces at their new home in Weißensee.
The large, 1000-square-meter space is home to a photo studio, a wood workshop, spaces for events and exhibitions, and studio spaces for about 35 musicians of all genres.
Why does QS1 believe so strongly in the DIY approach?
QS1 never aimed to be “the top number one company for acoustics installation in the world,” Lorenzo says—even though they just might be.
They stay true to their DIY approach and self-taught carpentry skills. Why?
Diego thinks “DIY” is misunderstood—that some people see it as simply a means of doing something cheaply. Diego tells me:
For us, DIY means proving to yourself you can do more than you think and teaching others what you’ve learned.
For Lorenzo, DIY means freedom—the ability to explore without the constant pressure of success.
Lorenzo says he has seen too many friends burn out when DJing turns into a cycle of social media obligations and career stress.
“DIY gives you a chance to resist that from the inside.”
He goes on:
It’s not all about clicks and algorithms. Our last closing party ran for two days, with 26 artists and 400 people, organised entirely through WhatsApp and word of mouth. Meanwhile, you see events with 10,000 clicks online and only 30 people at the door. What you see online isn’t always what it is in reality.
In his view, DIY culture restores some of the magic that gets lost in an oversaturated music scene.
How does the DIY spirit impact parties?
Berlin, like many cities, now has endless “cool” parties every weekend, each booking high-profile DJs with soaring fees. They say:
If every weekend, 40 or 50 parties are competing with the same formula, someone is losing money. And even when money is made, it doesn’t really benefit the people on the dancefloor. That’s why DIY still matters. It offers something different.
Aylin Würzner, another core member of the collective, joined QS1 to work on her art.
“They gave me a new kind of freedom,” Aylin says. “The space is big, and Diego and Lorenzo gave me the confidence never to stop what I’m doing. I told them about my crazy art fantasies, and they told me, ‘Yeah, do it!'”
She took the QS1 parties to another level by adding artistic scenography and art to their events. She uses nightlife not only for dancing and listening to music, but also as a space to exhibit her art, which revolves around topics such as female empowerment, societal change, and loneliness.
“When we did a NYE party in Renate, I did a big vulva mural,” Aylin says. “It was about one meter big. I also made a big collage out of Playboy magazines from the ’80s.”
Another installation was a big fence that Aylin spray-painted. She adds: “I love layering stuff, so I layered a lot of transfers and papers, working with light, shadows, and dynamics.“ This visual work adds up to the experience visitors have at a QS1 party.
What is the QS1 approach to making a good party?
From a DJ perspective, Aaron shares his thoughts on what makes a good party, breaking it down to key elements. First, it’s about promoters who genuinely care for the scene. He says:
With good parties, community has to come before profit.
He believes that parties built only on commercialisation rarely leave a lasting mark.
Equally important is the crowd. While the idea of door selection can be controversial, Aaron believes it shapes the entire experience.
“If you’ve been in the scene for over a decade, you become sensitive to the crowd and how it impacts the night,” he says.
Finally, there’s the artistic curation. For him, it’s never about booking big names for the sake of it. He says:
A lineup needs meaning. It should tell a story, not just be a collection of random headliners.
QS1 believed their strongest lineups start with their friends. Giving friends the booth created an energy no headliner could match. Those nights in North Charlottenburg were the training grounds, teaching them how to open, how to close, how to take risks, and how to recover.
Those experiences carried their members to bigger stages, from Tresor to Else, and to festivals in other countries.
Though QS1 has grown into a thriving Berlin-based business, Diego and Lorenzo’s motto remains clear: Enable others.
Visit QS1’s website to see more of their beautiful, custom music studio spaces. On Instagram, you can follow a page focused on their music studio creation process, or you can follow their page for events. Better yet, do both. Support local businesses in Berlin.
Words: Jonas Opperman
Images: Mara Menzel, with additional photos provided by QS1
Edits: Alexander Cheves
Jonas Opperman is a nightlife writer and part of the SEVEN Berlin music label. As DJ Jonny Mojo, he brings a pushy, hypnotic style that blends classic and modern electronic sounds. @mojo.0g
