The end of an era
No place like OOST
From the outside, OOST never shouted for attention. It’s just another building on a lively street known for its nightlife. But step inside, and the story changes. The air is thick with smoke, the bass hits like a second heartbeat, and three glowing rings spin hypnotically above the dance floor. Alternating blue and purple neon lights flash across the crowd, occasionally revealing a face before plunging the room back into strobe-lit anonymity.
On the dance floor, hazy silhouettes dance through the smoke-filled room and the sound of clanking glasses from behind the bar pierces through the loud beats coming from the DJ booth. To some, it was just a venue. But to many, OOST was a scene, an experience, a rhythm you couldn’t find anywhere else in Groningen.
For nine years, it was the kind of place that meant something different to everyone, and somehow meant everything to the ones who kept coming back. Now that it’s closing due to a steep rise in (rental) costs, a beat in the city’s heart goes silent.
Variety of genres
Raymond van Felius was there from the beginning, DJing at the venue. This year, he returned with his old collective Enthousiaste Gasten for a King’s Night set, their first in over a decade. ‘It was good at the time, and it felt good to do it again’, he says.
People said they’d never heard this type of music
They played fast, energetic vinyl sets, and were surprised by how well the old tracks landed with a younger crowd. ‘People half my age came up to me saying they’d never heard this type of music. That connection was special.’
Wybren Jager, a regular visitor, says that OOST is ‘one of the only places in the city where you can go and listen to nice music.’ The club made its name by creating a platform for local upcoming DJs as well as hosting big names from the scene. The result was a unique variety of genres and underground artists who praised OOST for its top-tier equipment.
‘I love OOST because of the sound. Nowhere else in Groningen has it,’ says Igor Dolfing (36). He’s a DJ who has performed on OOST’s stage several times. ‘And the light in the ceiling with those three rings? Magical. On another level.’
Dolfing sees OOST as more than a venue – it’s a canvas, a space that allowed him to do what he does best: connect people through music. With a carefully built rhythm that slowly evolves from environmental beats to groovy techno, Dolfing creates a journey. ‘It’s storytelling,’ he says, ‘with a beginning and an end.’ And OOST made that possible. ‘Spending time with these people, and being their connector as the DJ, gives me so much energy.’
Art and poetry
‘What makes OOST so special is that it’s the centre of subculture’, says Sandra Mako Sanchez, co-founder of the poetry collective Spaces. The event first launched during OOST’s Wednesday Pub OOST nights, when the dance floor transformed into a cosy setup with tables, cushions, and candlelight. ‘It was absolutely packed’, she recalls.
You could just join anyone’s conversation if you wanted to
A 25-year-old media studies graduate and part-time DJ, Mako Sanchez started the collective in the summer of 2023, when techno ruled the local nightlife. ‘Bringing these two worlds together felt perfect and natural’, she says. OOST wasn’t just about parties, it opened its doors to art, poetry, pub nights, and subcultural experiments that blurred the line between rave and cultural hub.
Poetry and raving might seem worlds apart, but Mako Sanchez sees a shared ethos: freedom. ‘It allows people to defy normative ways of thinking and dressing. Just do whatever you want. Both are safe spaces to experiment.’
Even the name Spaces comes from between the lines of a poem – and the spirit of OOST. ‘It’s about creating spaces where people can meet and exchange their thoughts,’ she explains. ‘Some of the best poems I’ve written were inspired by thoughts I had at a rave.’
Interconnected
That broad range of events was also what Masha Chubareva, another regular, liked about OOST. ‘It offered more than just DJ nights. There was Pub OOST, rental space for creative events, and collaborations like Spaces, cocktail bar Cilinder, and Achterwerk, the vegan restaurant,’ she says. ‘The scene was interconnected.’
What she’ll also remember fondly: the photo booth. ‘It was the best marketing decision they ever made – and the worst decision for us at the end of the night’, she laughs, recalling nights frozen in grainy flash and kooky poses.
It’s a place where you can be yourself, and nobody is judging
For Kat, an English language student, it was the crowd that pulled her in. ‘It was a lot of people with the same interests in one space. You could just join anyone’s conversation if you wanted to.’ She especially loved the weekly pub nights. ‘It was nice for anyone who enjoys alternative music but prefers to sit down over dancing at a rave.’ Her fondest memory? Singing Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan at a themed karaoke night.
Safe space
All these people, whether they came to OOST to enjoy the music, recite poetry, or take their photo booth pictures late at night, felt comfortable enough to be their true selves. Just like on the dance floor, where on a regular dance night you could find a group of people imitating cowboys riding a horse and throwing lassos or girls performing a dance that resembles jump diving. The club, they all say, was one of the very few places in the city that facilitated a safe space for individual expression.
‘It’s a place where you can be yourself, and nobody is judging. It always feels safe there’, Jager shares, and Chubareva concurs. ‘OOST is the only club in Groningen I would ever go to by myself.’
Contributing to that feeling is the presence of so-called floor angels, men and women in yellow shirts that you can turn to if you feel threatened or unsafe for any reason. OOST also doesn’t allow in large groups or people wearing costumes. But people who frequent OOST regularly don’t need a specific set of rules to respect their fellow ravers. Only very rarely do you see people recording with their phones; everyone just enjoys themselves with their phones in their pockets.
And so the news that a chapter of good vibes and community-driven events is coming to an end hit both regulars and artists hard. ‘I was sad when I heard the news’, says Chubareva, even though she has moved away from Groningen. ‘It’s a shame that they had to close. It’s a big loss for the city’, Jager agrees.
Van Felius believes losing the venue is a real hit to the city’s creative culture. ‘It stood out because it was very no-nonsense. It was all about music.’ He hopes the city will take initiative to prevent such losses in the future: ‘If Groningen wants to present itself as progressive and creative, then these sorts of places should not be overlooked, but kept alive.’