“Yeah, Paris is nice, but I can bring you around the corner and show you where Hitler blew his brains out. You can’t say that standing outside the Louvre”. It was hard to argue with our sprightly tour guide, even if I was in a particularly argumentative mood. Standing outside the Brandenburg Gate on a brisk January morning I was freezing and numb to the wonders around me. That would soon change. The ensuing week would imbue me with a fascination for history, a reverence for Berliners (and a disaffection with EDM) which has sustained to this day. Perhaps no city on earth has facilitated as much horror as Berlin…