In a bar that thrives on techno, a dancing ban was more of a suggestion. Performers simply had to be a little more creative.
“I remember getting a bunch of flyers that said ‘party at OMG Pizza,’” says Ryan Beppel, a beardy local DJ, from his spot at the bar. “Somehow, everyone knew that meant Bossa. I don’t know if you’ve been to that pizza place, but it’s seriously, like the grossest place in the world. I always thought it was just a good joke, but I guess it was a legal tactic.”
The two DJs argue the merits of American techno versus the European iteration. They comment on the DJ currently spinning on the now not-quite-empty dance floor (he’s good for a new kid, they agree). When I ask if they ever switch up the traditional Bossa sound for the sake of a particular crowd, they respond with disapproving glares. Apparently, the venue never falls out of step with its own brand.
“I mean, I like Drake. I love Cardi B. But I would never play that stuff while I’m here,” Beppel says. “This place is filled with people who are supposed to be really committed to their aesthetic. They know their scene.”
He pauses to greet two baby-faced guys in matching black beanies who are arriving.