- Finding quality techno in Pittsburgh requires a certain amount of patience, as it's something that hasn't come to the city very often in recent years. The major issue is that the scene is homeless, and even the makeshift party spaces—warehouses and parking lots lit by car headlights—get shut down all too quickly. It's either "get busted" or "go mainstream," and neither option is particularly enticing.
Photo credit: Lindsay Danger Mullen
Istanbul, a Turkish grille by day and a club space by night, is a little gem of a venue, where parties can stretch past the debilitating citywide 2 AM last call. Upon entering, it feels too well-kempt and brightly lit to be housing a techno party, but as you walk further and further in, the light starts to disappear until you're in the back room, a space unlit but for the flash of the photographer and the glow of red lights around the DJ booth. Ebullient dancers peppered the makeshift hardwood dance floor, while loungers sat on Turkish style couches amassed with pillows.
Old school rave heads and younger kids that had found dance music through dubstep and kept exploring made up the majority of the crowd. One partygoer hanging near the DJ booth during Spinoza's set said, "I'm normally a drum & bass type girl, but this, this is really good." That's evidence of the swelling desire for electronic music in Pittsburgh, any and all.
This particular night, though, had some local significance: Bryan Kasenic, AKA Spinoza, hails from Pittsburgh, and the Humanaut crew had brought his New York City Bunker party back for a night of techno and deeper house. The music started off with Spinoza's old-time friend and frequent collaborator Edgar Um Bucholtz, who was actually the first guy to book Spinoza for a DJ gig. Spinoza followed with a well-crafted set of equal parts techno and acid house, managing to work 4 Hero's "Mr. Kirk's Nightmare" in as a little homage to the historicity of the party.
Photo credit: Lindsay Danger Mullen
Ending the evening and playing into the wee hours of the morning was Bunker resident Eric Cloutier, whose minimalist approach bridged a sonic gap between his Detroit roots and contemporary house music. The entire evening succeeded in bringing together the techno vets, the movers and shakers of scenes past and present, and introducing a new set of electronic music aficionados to boundary pushing sounds they wouldn't have gotten to hear otherwise. Not busted. Not mainstream. Not bad.