Prenzlauer Berg, lower Oderberger Street at the southeastern end. Just a few hundred yards from Mauerpark – where Sunday drum circles collide with bubble tea – sits OYE Records.
A record shop that has held its ground for years against the city’s relentless pace of change – not defiantly, but with a kind of effortless confidence. Wedged between a vintage hi-fi shop with old East German charm and a scene bar called “Der Kapitalist” that feels beamed straight over from the 90s, OYE Records is the sort of place that seems to have been left alone by Berlin while everything around it became sleeker, pricier, and tamer – including the nerd-chic luxury hotel directly across the street. This shady, compact end of Oderberger Street forms a strangely functional little microcosm. While the northwestern stretch has devolved into a touristy food strip in recent years, Kastanienallee – the cross street, jokingly referred to as “Casting Alley” – acts as an invisible boundary to a sliver of old-school Berlin, where Gen X and Gen Z sit side by side in the aforementioned Kapitalist, discussing Bourdieu, Boiler Room sets, and the best everyday jacket to wear to Berghain. And in exactly this atmosphere, OYE feels right at home.
There’s no Best-Before-Date on Vinyl
OYE Records is no nostalgia temple. Sure, the place breathes vinyl culture – rows of 12-inches, stacked crates, lovingly curated staff picks behind the counter – but this isn’t a museum. It’s a living, breathing space. And above all: multigenerational. Those who first flipped through the house section as young DJs or eager music hunters in the mid-2000s are now the older regulars. And they still come. Because new faces keep appearing too – young people discovering music and savoring it on one of the four listening stations, each outfitted with a classic Technics SL-1210. Just a warning: a sign limits listening to a maximum of 20 records (you read that right: twenty). The crowd is a mix – Berlin locals, DJs on vinyl missions, music nerds from EasyJet tourism. Come for the reputation, stay because the selection refuses to let you go.
A Selection with Intent
Across the shop’s three rooms unfolds a musical panorama that doesn’t aim to offer everything – just the right things. House and techno, in all their mutations and finely sorted subgenres. Increasingly, lots of jazz – off-beat, free-form, often Afro-centric. Hip-hop, electronic music, a bit of indie, ambient, Brazil, rare grooves. What stands out is that the organization isn’t just a filing system – it feels like an invitation to explore. Often with handwritten notes on the records – not marketing fluff but tips from people who know their music. True to a store specializing in electronic sounds, the bins are labeled not only by subgenre but also by the major and boutique labels known for their specific sonic signatures. The secondhand section is just as thoughtful: no chaotic bargain bins, but boxes that invite discovery – whether a rare pressing or a cheap gem. Anyone searching for music that never shows up in an algorithm will find it here. There’s also a small, charmingly scattered selection of CDs and merch – shirts, totes, bags – stylish rather than gimmicky.
A Shop That Breathes with the City
What defines OYE is its organic evolution. In a city that has been in constant flux since the early 2000s – from subculture haven to Airbnb playground – the shop has changed along with it without ever selling out. In the years following the Berlin hype around Berlin Calling, Berghain, and Bar25, Prenzlauer Berg morphed into an upscale address – yet OYE stayed. Maybe it even became more important. While many other shops closed or were priced out, OYE remained a fixed point for the musically curious. The opening of a second location in northern Neukölln in 2013 was a logical expansion into Berlin’s then-emerging parallel scene district.
Atmosphere over Attitude
OYE isn’t fancy, but it makes sense. No loft aesthetics, no gallery-style lighting – just a shop with texture, history, and sound. The staff knows their stuff without being pushy. They actually listen when you talk about music. And they recommend things that truly fit – not whatever is trending on social media. You can spend hours wandering the shelves, listening to whatever is spinning up front, or staying for an in-store gig. Sometimes the best moment here isn’t finding something – it’s getting wonderfully lost.
OYE isn’t a place that clamors for attention. It simply exists – steady, open, intelligently curated. And anyone who steps inside quickly senses it: music here isn’t a trend, but a cultural state of matter. And as long as places like this exist, maybe the heart of Berlin’s music culture hasn’t been entirely sold off.
OYE Records
Oderberger Straße 4
10435 Berlin
Phone +49 30 66647821
mail@oye-records.com
Opening Hours
Monday–Saturday 12–8 p.m., Sunday closed