The Techno Scene In Fort Worth Isnt Out Of Nowhere
Dallas has the clubs and nightlife infrastructure to keep the party going – a tradition rooted in the iconic Starck Club on McKinney Avenue – but the Texas techno scene is growing from unexpected corners, crystallized by the current Gen Z techno revival in Ft. Huerta
Techno came from black musicians in Detroit, spread to Berlin and the rest of Europe, and finally arrived in Texas. Texas techno faces its own challenges. First of all, it's difficult to dance in a warehouse without air conditioning in the summer, when temperatures reach triple digits. Texas also has dancing and swearing laws, unlike the North (which means we don't have fun ), which shuts down the fun at 2 in the morning.
In the beginning, the techno world was all about Dallas. DJ and producer Minta George founded his label Down Low Music in Dallas in 1999, making a name for himself in the city's music scene and supporting artists like Fort Worth's Plastic Sleeves and Austin's Bill Converse.
Back then, Fort Worth DJ Rick Simpson played techno in Dallas, not Fort Worth.
“I wasn't looking to do anything in Fort Worth, so I knew I was going to throw a party [in Dallas],” he said. «Maybe from '95 to the early 2000s. I'm still very young. I was playing a mix of all kinds of rave, techno and stuff like that… It was a naive approach because it wasn't on the internet and everyone was stuck in a certain click or sound. It's like "this is electronic music, we're going to party."
Thiago Verjao was one of Fort Worth's early techno pioneers.
“When I was younger, I was able to travel to cities with great DJ cultures like New York, Chicago and San Francisco and get more exposure to house and techno,” he says.
With Verjao as the main outlet for early Internet culture, a boy from a small town connected with artists from other cities through Myspace and went to meet them and buy records.
Verjao is ready to bring techno to Texas and threw his first party at Rubber Guanti Rehearsal Studio in Denton.
“We had our first queer or LGBT night at Rubber Gloves,” he said. “We named it Denton Burning after the famous [film] Paris Burning .”
Verjao continued to DJ in the area and eventually rented a loft in Cleburne, south of Fort Worth.
“I want to host free private parties with famous DJs from all over the world,” he said. “A lot of people came from all over the state of Texas and grew up there. It was a kind of celebration in a safe place, which was unheard of at the time."
A few years later, Skyler Salinas, one of Varjao Cleburne's successors, entered the Fort Worth music scene with a punk band, transitioning into techno as DJ Cowboy after a stint in Mexico City.
“A lot of people in bands, especially in the punk scene, in dance music, especially in techno, are starting to move,” Salinas said. “Every city in Texas has a lot of DJs, but their scene isn't that big. They don't necessarily bring a lot of people. … I think DFW, and especially in Fort Worth, we have a bigger, healthier environment now.”
Now, Gen Z bands like Beverly Hills Cowboy are the heart of Fort Worth's techno scene. The group is made up of three regular DJs: Jesus Freak, Maya Loft and Luna, all in their twenties.
Jesus Freak started the celebration two years ago.
“It really started with a series of small parties I threw with friends,” he said. “It obviously got bigger.”
Growing up in a Mexican family, his childhood was surrounded by cumbia and other traditional Latin music. Incidentally, his uncle was a DJ and allowed him to use his computer to try his hand at DJing.
“When I was little, I would always go to my cousin's house and play on the computer and listen to some of his songs,” Jesus Frick said.
During the pandemic, he started watching YouTube videos about rave culture and was immediately drawn to '90s parties in Chicago, Detroit and Berlin.
“I saw it all happen,” he said. "I was very inspired. I said to myself, 'I wish I was here'. I wish all the rave culture was here."
And amidst all the chaos, this pandemic brings with it some small advantages.
“When the pandemic hit and all the clubs in Dallas closed down, I think that really helped us,” the DJ said.
Small parties have evolved from simple gatherings with friends, but still retain the true DIY spirit.
“I just want people to come here because this place plays great music and offers a unique space… Let's create an atmosphere,” Jesus Frick said. We are sure that our lighting will make people happy. We use television to create a general atmosphere."
The party has grown so much that veteran DJs can't ignore it.
“They'll bring elements of rave, techno and cumbia, things with a Latin twist, some elements of '90s electronica that appeal to today's audiences,” Simpson said.
Of course, the root of this sound is nostalgia, but it is also calculated for the future.
“Part of techno has always been about the future and progress,” Simpson says. “When we go back in time, we don't use futuristic formulas and try to create something unique.”
Jesus Freak and Beverly Hills Cowboy got the safe haven Verjao was looking for in Cleburne years ago.
“The most important thing is to create a community where people of all colors, races, genders, whatever can come together, feel safe and have fun,” Jesus Frick said. “My biggest work is creating safe spaces, especially for queer and LGBT people.”
Veteran DJs are excited to see the culture grow as a new generation begins to discover techno in Fort Worth.
“The kids had fun,” Verjao said. “I never thought we would have such a strange, safe space… People dancing to techno music in bars. Fort Worth, where I grew up, was rock and roll. It was never dance music.
"I hope that children continue to enjoy music, play with each other, support each other and experiment together in this environment... It is important that people feel free and are able to dance colorfully."
