The bass is unescapable; a drilling, pounding thrum tunneling past my ear drums, all the way into my nerves, and taking sanction in the rivulets of piss running down my thigh in the tiny den-like toilet I’m huddled in. I easily ignore the listless girls heading the venue-long line with muffled screams of “taking too long” and focus on the reverberations humming through the walls. It’s a Valentines Helltekk rave, where sensuous couples dance with such entranced eyes that they accidentally graze my arm in the crowd instead of their partners.
Helltekk is a thrashing phenomenon to be reckoned with in the NYC area. The DIY Rave collective is run by New York natives FortifiedStructures, Psychs, and Dakota. Crashing into the underground scene in 2023, the collective began with small, frenetic, and illegal DIY shows in Greenpoint’s sanitation dumps and the forests of upstate New York; their home base is Trans-Pecos. Originally, Helltekk hosted free parties, or renegades, from a desire to reinvigorate free dance for the youths of New York. An unstoppable force since then, they’ve cemented themselves as an unignorable all-ages promoter and organizer of “underground” DIY raves.
Their first traceable event took place at Trans-Pecos, a community led venue in Ridgewood owned by NYC organizer Todd Patrick and Brooklyn based Musician Sam Hilmer. The hub reopened in 2013 with a new vision for New York venues: A curator-based system led by independent artists, organizers, and bands that cycle through the reigns of hosting shows. Once an employee, FortifiedStructures delegated Trans-Pecos as Helltekk’s homebase. More recently, Helltekk has solely concentrated their monthly, affordable parties into the rave-renovated venue.
I was lucky enough to talk with two of the three leaders of Helltekk, Justin (FortifiedStructures) and Psychs, during the in-between of Rave Ending and Kicked Out. I snagged them in the warehouse section of Trans-Pecos, only accessible by way of weaving through masses of flashing bodies and jumping over crouched figures smoking beneath the Trans-Pecos outdoor section. At any other show, these two monumental doors would be locked to all smokers, shenanigans, partiers alike. But tonight, and at any Helltek show, they act as a portal to a smoggier, moodier world tinted with the red and blue haze of lasers on fog machines.
A western wooden bar in the entryway acts as the magical ticket to the trance techno beats. A once abandoned storage space now a hidden respite to the sweaty, dense gabber of the first stage’s densely packed arena.
I am usually one to adore the feeling of bodies toppling each other in the trance of EDM, but the first stage was disparately uncomfortable. I’m uncertain if it was influenced by the Valentines propaganda spread throughout, of which even a small glance at a fellow raver was greeted with a cold pivot to kiss their partner. Or, the overflowing line to the bathroom, in which the still-as-ice line-goers haughtily complained (louder than the bass), that there was only a singular bathroom in this evidently independent space. Does fame beget genuinity? And, why, oh god please answer me, why did everybody treat my body as a cigarette being flicked when they bustled through the crowd?
Trans-Pecos is a moderately sized venue, and it seems that Helltekk’s raves are growing too large to contain. No longer do they host free renegades, and most of his raves are relegated to this overpacked venue with a $15-20 entry fee. Luckily, Helltekk seemed aware of the rapidly cramping size of his shows and pushed for the extra stage in the warehouse.
Back in this hidden cave-like cove, my ears ringing with the aftershock of forgetful earplugs, I asked the Helltekk organizers about this exclusive behind-warehouse section of Trans-Pecos. They informed me that the warehouse previously acted as extra storage for the venue, but being invigorated by the idea of diversified space, Helltekk convinced Trans-Pecos to let him independently renovate it for Helltekk raves. Their only funding being the money made from their raves; a community ran expansion for the hyper-techno-all-age underground. The dedication of Helltekk’s desire to create a welcoming and diversified space for hardstyle lovers was evident. The well-deserved proudness in their voice was clear.
Helltekk isn’t afraid of the size, and the intensity of a DIY collective establishing their own venue space underscores the dedication and skill this collective has in throwing successful raves. The effort is evident with the quick pace of which Helltekk has grown into the mainstream.
Still, in my eyes, the rave transforms space into a transient, unitary dimension. One is knighted upon entering to, at the minimum, armor up in Dance. To engage with this glittery artwork of thrusting frenzy. Upon first entering, I felt pricked that these valentines loungers didn’t grasp the truth of the Rave’s apparatus.
Helltekk, a small promoter no longer, was now in the spotlight of DIY rave, getting up to one thousand likes on each Instagram flyer. Yet, it seemed to come with an influx of unaware attendees; what I deem Partiers with a capital P. Whilst these claims to the underground rave slot into popularity, their mode transmutes from “rave” to “going out.” I want to avoid the sanctimonious proclamation that the Rave is a mythical land requiring the Purist blood of a raver for entry. But, is it wrong to expect the mystic sanctity of Raving, with a capital R, when entering the illusive underground?
I wondered if others in the crowd felt the same. In small, screaming conversations within the warehouse, I asked Helltekk connoisseurs Julian and Taydem their opinions on Helltekk as long-term attendees. In unison, they nodded their appreciation for his raves.
“Helltekk has always thrown an amazing show, and I always feel the urge to dance and meet new people. I love the energy here.” both compel. Having been Helltekk ravers since 2023, I asked what they thought about his evolution and quick ascension.
“We definitely have noticed a slight change in the environment. People seem to view this as a fuck-around space, and I notice that a lot of younger people get more fucked up than they used to,” replies Taydem. Julian adds, “We used to go to a lot of his outdoor shows, but Helltekk stopped doing them because they got too crowded and couldn’t be kept under the wraps. Now, you can only get to them if you’re in a secret discord channel.”
In Writing On Raving, An Anthology, American theologian Linn Tonstad writes on the antagonistic togetherness Raves conduct, “There is no point in idealizing the rave, because the rave is flesh… it brings antagonism, difference… but it has given me [the love of flesh.]”
When I swiveled my head away from the bathroom, there rippled a deliciously bouncing crowd without a single digital device in sight. One femme stood gleaming atop the raised stage with golden wings fluttering from her back, a gleaming micro-skirt and a bikini top that shone as brightly as Mary’s halo. Next to the DJ, whose face was wet with energy was a hopping bunny ornamented in bundles of Kandi—colorful bracelets of exchange made by ravers—jumping harder than a pogo-stick and quicker than a drill. An entire swarm of potential or existing ravers, snaking partiers, and 16 year olds discovering a glimpse into the hedonistic life of raving. Understanding the rave’s love of flesh, and not only through hidden channels on Discord. The space was Free for all.
Although the opacity of Rave may have been dimmed since Helltekk’s prime in the underground, there was a carved mosaic of potential ravers, of perforating enjoyment. As a collective of three people setting up sound production, lights, and their own exclusive venue space, the attraction is well deserved. If not a Rave, it shone as an introductory nexus into EDM and hazy nights, like all us in that room were sneaking out together to have fun. Because that’s the grit of it; the fun, the collective secrecy in which we bundle up our bodies and pretend nobody else knows about this place.
There’s a quirk to the all-age underground unavoidable; to get big, you invite partiers. In a space where pre-teens and first timers run around, it’s ignorant of me to expect bloodied dancers equipped with the backpack of intensity I carry into every rave. Trade-offs come with bigger crowds, alas! What rayed within the Helltekk rave was the openness to be de-grounded. Evidently, they wanted bigger, they wanted density, they wanted fun. In a landscape of 21+ raves and overpriced DJ’s at Brooklyn Warehouse ending their sets at 12am, Helltekk diverted itself with a groundbreaking momentum to convince New York of the power of Gabber and inclusivity.. That feeling of freedom that comes with entering a DIY space was not given up either, and remained a pertinent effect despite its packed nature.
I asked Helltekk why he started promoting.
“After becoming interested in DJing, I wanted to create a shared space where I could both play for an audience and dance with them to hardstyle. It wasn’t the easiest, but I have my two buddies helping me out and we have fun together.”
Tonstad writes, “The best dancefloors depend on difference.”
For a haughty raver like me, I may feel personally slighted by the idea that a rave can be disguised as going out (for me, it is my veins). Alas, no one can deny the rave of Helltekk. Their DJ’s thrash beneath the deck, their attendees bop with their groups and shake ass in the circle. Helltekk succeeds in curating fun, and excels at opening up the stage to the youths. They’re not the promoter of Raves of which only Ravers attend. But its body of age-diverse attendees, first timers and send-its, are ensured to dance wickedly entranced for the night. That’s the unimpeachable echo of the Rave—underground, or above, techno, or hardstyle—flesh, dance, and fun.