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In Ohio, a queer dance party is redefining community and it’s PERF

In Ohio, a queer dance party is redefining community and it's PERF


A flurry of partygoers, clad in their Saturday best, ascend onto the dancefloor. Music surges from the DJ decks—an altar at the room’s core. The relentless rhythm binds the crowd in a collective, hypnotic urgency to fully exist in the moment. Under a twinkling disco ball, go-go boys and girls grind in glory. Drag queens glide past patrons with regal nonchalance, as coworkers, new friends, old acquaintances—people from all corners of daily life—nod in quiet recognition.

Most nights, this space is a dive bar or music venue. But for one night a month, it’s church. An offering only we understand.

Here, the lines that so often try to define sexuality and gender dissolve. The only boundary is the meticulously arranged grid of lights overhead, their ethereal glow helping the night feel like a secret shared only among those who come to twirl. 

For one night, everything’s perfect. And no, we’re not in New York, and we’re certainly not in Los Angeles. We’re in Cleveland, Ohio.

Photo by Ricky Spanish

This is PERF, described by DJ, creator and curator of this event, Joey Sardelle, as “a recurring queercentric house and techno dance party series” that takes place at Crobar, in the St. Clair-Superior neighborhood of Cleveland.

“House music is inherently queer—made by queer people, for queer people. And it felt like [there was] very little to no representation of that in Cleveland,” says Sardelle, a former guitarist in pop-punk bands who criss-crossed the country on many a DIY tour.

Sardelle’s affinity for dance music compelled him to step away from band-life and travel to electronic-music festivals and clubs across the country, where his performance was strictly on the dance floor. 

“I never really wanted to be on the other side of the DJ booth,” Sarelle says. “I just loved dancing and being my gay little self, doing my thing and having a fun time. But then I’d go to all these cities and have so much fun, and I’d come back home to Cleveland and think, ‘Wow, we don’t have anything like what they have in Miami, New York, L.A., Detroit or Chicago.’ It was kind of bumming me out.”

Photo by Ricky Spanish

From the basement to the bar

This is a sentiment shared by many queer people in northeast Ohio. Yet, as Ohioans know, there’s a sense of pride in Midwest identity—and, deep down, a reluctance to abandon their home state to find the queer club experience so many crave. Gay bars in Cleveland often focus on karaoke, Top 40 playlists and casual socializing, which isn’t a bad thing, but for some, it’s just not enough. Sardelle saw that void in the scene and decided he wanted to be the one to fill it.

“I just wanted to dance,” Sardelle says. “I got to the point of going to the bars every weekend and just being like, ‘I don’t like this music,’ and, ‘Where are the boys?’ and I just said, ‘Fuck it. I’m gonna learn how to DJ and do this shit.’”

Working a high-stress tech sales job at the time, Sardelle felt trapped in the grind despite its financial perks. “I was like a corporate slave to it,” he recalls, spending his days in the office and his nights answering emails and taking calls, even on his personal time. “Eventually, I got let go from this job due to layoffs, and the very same day that happened was the day that my DJ table got shipped to my house. So I’m just like, ‘OK, time to do this.’” 

Sardelle poured his time and energy into learning how to DJ, teaching himself while navigating Cleveland’s nightlife. Sardelle credits his friend Josh Spector, who runs Mom’s Bassment – a house/techno group that’s been doing stuff in the Cleveland-Columbus scene for years – with teaching him how to DJ and taking him under his wing. Early gigs came sporadically and with little pay. “I was at the mercy of the scene, like, ‘Hey, do you want a gig here? Do you want to open up at this free event on, like, a Thursday afternoon at a dive bar?’ You gotta get your start everywhere and anywhere,” Sardelle says.

But eventually, Sardelle hit a wall while taking gigs and honing his craft, eagerly wanting to see the queer, house/techno dance party he envisioned come to life. “It got to a point where I was like ‘This ain’t it for me’, and I approached Josh and said, ‘We should start our own party.’ I wanted it to be this LGBTQ+ event … ‘I think I have a good place for it.’”

Photo by Ricky Spanish

That vision first took shape in the basement of Cocktails, a longstanding Cleveland gay bar that’s been in the community for 30 years. Known for its communal atmosphere, it’s lined with pool tables and a wrap-around bar at ground level, but downstairs, its grungy, seedy techno vibe gave Sardelle the perfect space for his underground idea to form into something real.

Hauling DJ equipment and decor to Cocktails’ basement, Sardelle transformed the space into a themed experience each month, beginning with a free event on Halloween 2023. Other early events included a “Naughty or Nice” party, which featured halos and horns for guests at the door; another, a circus-themed party, packed over 100 people into the tiny basement—a clear sign that the demand for this kind of party was there.

“While this was all happening, I had been going to Crobar every weekend just as a patron looking to party,” Sardelle says. “Eventually, after I felt confident in what I was building, I talked to Gerad Guhde, who owns Crobar, and I said, ‘Yo, I’m having a party over at Cocktails and it’s doing pretty well.’”

To Sardelle’s surprise, Guhde was already aware of Sardelle’s success. “He’s like, ‘Yeah, I actually heard about that.’ And I was like, ‘Oh, yeah, of course you did,’ you know, trying to play it off cool,” Sardelle says.Guhde’s vision for Crobar aligned with Sardelle’s mission for PERF, who describes the space as a “spectrum bar.” Guhde aimed to create an inclusive environment for all—straight, queer, Black, white and everyone in between. “He’s like, ‘I really want to have this LGBTQ+ party, but I’m a straight man, and I need somebody to kind of take the ropes.’ And I’m like, ‘I got this. Put me in, Coach. I can do it.’”

The power of word of mouth

To kick off PERF’s new chapter at Crobar, Guhde offered to book a high-profile headliner for the inaugural event: Mike Servito, a globally recognized DJ from New York’s The Bunker. “Gared was very kind to help me with my first event booking Mike,” Sardelle explains. “He was like, ‘Look, I’ll cover Mike’s cost, I’ll do the whole thing, give you a couple of bucks for helping out – and after this, you’re on your own.’” This collaborative launch laid the foundation for PERF’s monthly residency at Crobar. The venue’s larger capacity and Guhde’s support allowed Sardelle to scale up, bringing in both local and international DJs and expanding PERF’s reach.

That reach extended further with the help of Sardelle’s marketing skills, gained in his previous tech sales job. It taught him the persistence needed to build something from the ground up. He would go on to approach the task of marketing his event with intention and a grassroots fervor. 

f“I printed flyers, went to the Hawk, went to Cocktails, went to Leather Stallion—every gay bar in town,” Sardelle says. “I told everyone who I am and what I’m doing. If I talk to 100 people and three of them come, that’s three more than I had before.” 

Photo by Ricky Spanish

Personally promoting PERF through direct interpersonal outreach within Cleveland’s LGBTQ+ community, whether through DM’s or out at the bars, is what created the strong word of mouth that propels PERF—a sort of “if you know, you know” energy that protects the sanctity of the space.

“I don’t want to market to the wrong people,” Sardelle says. “My biggest pride in PERF is the people, the vibes and the atmosphere. Everybody is cool and welcoming. It’s not like going to Twist, where it’s 40 gorgeous twinks at the bar. We have freaks, geeks, queer and trans folks, lesbians—every person on the spectrum is welcome, championed and celebrated here.”

House rules

As PERF continues to grow, Sardelle takes proactive steps to ensure the space remains safe and maintains a culture of respect. “I’m nervous about it getting bigger,” he admits. “We’ve never had a fight, never had a problem, never had anyone claim they were uncomfortable.”

You’ll often find Sardelle prancing around the party, in the crowd, at the bar, taking out trash, picking up cups, shaking hands and greeting every single guest. For larger events, he hires additional security and even prints laminated signs with rules explaining consent, communication and pronoun etiquette. It’s an intentional, hands-on approach that reinforces the environment Sardelle wants to foster in a city where queer people don’t always feel welcomed. 

“Nobody gets a second chance here,” he says. “This is a safe space—you’re one and done. If I even think for a second you drink too much and get sloppy, or if you’re rude or I’ve seen you say transphobic shit on the internet like, sorry, your money is not good here. Take it somewhere else.”

Photo by Ricky Spanish

Curating the right vibe is one thing, and curating the talent for PERF is another. It’s a balancing act of ambition and community-building, but Sardelle was intentional from the start: “It was me and whoever I could find that I thought fit the mold,” he says. “I really wanted everybody involved in PERF to be queer or trans-identified, which I thought would be easy. But in terms of continuity and not booking the same people repeatedly, I realized I had to dig deeper into the community.”

That realization pushed Sardelle to look beyond Cleveland’s borders. After his first event featuring Servito, Sardelle reached out to Ashton Swinton, a Detroit-based DJ. “I just started hitting people up on Instagram, cold-calling in a way,” Sardelle explains. “I’d say, ‘I’ll give you a place to stay, $500, and a good time.’” Swinton accepted the offer, and the event was a success. “We wound up hanging out at my house until 10 in the morning the next day. I told her, ‘Go back to Detroit and tell people this is cool.’”

Word spread, and soon Sarfdelle had a lineup of DJs eager to be part of PERF. “Now, I have a long list of people interested,” he says. “I need more months just to get to them all. I already have plans booked for all of 2025.” Building this network elevated the caliber of PERF’s events and created opportunities to highlight artists from other cities, making the party a magnet for the broader queer house music scene to see what Cleveland has to offer.

Photo by Ricky Spanish

Giving back and grooving forward

PERF’s ethos goes beyond just the music or the party. Amplifying the voices and talents of Cleveland’s queer community is what helps tie it all together. Sardelle actively incorporates local organizations and creators into each event. He collaborates with his friend Andrew Fogle, a graphic designer, to create the event’s flyers. Partners include groups like Central Outreach, which offers free HIV and STD testing during the parties, and Dean Rufus House of Fun, an LGBTQ+ retail and novelty boutique, which donates gifts to every event to give away before 10 pm, encouraging PERFgoers to arrive early to support openers and bar staff. Sardelle is also working to include LGBTQ+ food trucks and vendors in the warmer months. “How do you make a dance party with alcohol, go-go dancers and bass-heavy music feel like a community? You involve the community,” he says.

This community-first mindset that extends to performers, artists, and local queer groups also lends itself to giving back. Recently, Sardelle organized a $750 donation to TransOhio, a local nonprofit organization dedicated to protecting and advancing the rights of trans, nonbinary, intersex and gender nonconforming people in Ohio, with plans to match it through his employer. The decision came after a particularly successful event, where the turnout for the event was so huge that it led to a surplus in profits. Unlike prior events, where expenses for out-of-town DJs and accommodations often ate into earnings, this time he had leftover funds.

“I felt like a capitalist or something,” Sardelle says. “I was sitting there with this money, and it didn’t feel right to just keep it. With everything happening—elections, laws overturning gender-affirming care, bathroom access—I couldn’t have this platform, have 250 people show up, and not give back to the community that needs it most.”

Photo by Ricky Spanish

Sardelle decided to use PERF’s success to address issues impacting the trans community in Ohio, where anxiety and uncertainty had skyrocketed following legislative changes like the passing of House Bill 183, which bans trans individuals in Ohio from multi-person restrooms in kindergarten through college that correspond to their gender, and House Bill 68, which bans gender-affirming care for minors. The December 2024 PERF benefited Haus of Transcendent (HOT) – a local nonprofit organization that addresses the social drivers of LGBTQ+ health through outreach, case management, housing and art – through a portion of ticket sales.

“The money I raise is small compared to what their needs are,” Sardelle admits. “Not everyone in our community has the funds to donate to their favorite charity and still go out after a tough week or a tough election. For $10, you can dance, have fun and also support something that really matters.”

Sardelle’s goal is to grow PERF organically without compromising its accessibility. “I don’t want bigger events to mean higher ticket prices,” he says. “I don’t want the lower-income, marginalized trans community to be priced out of something I created for them.” 

That openness plays out in the event’s vibe. “As soon as people walk in the door, there’s just this mutual understanding of respect, which is what dancing has always been about since day one,” Sardelle adds. “One end of the dance floor, you’ll see muscle jocks making out, and at the other end, a group of six girls having a girls’ night. Everyone’s so unbothered and content because nobody steps into each other’s space. You see the go-go dancers, the drag queens, all these queer people at the bar, and even if you don’t know the history, it hits you. It’s a nod to the warehouses in Chicago in the ‘80s, where queer people didn’t have a place to congregate. That energy is still alive.

“If I did this for the money, I’d already be packing my bags to try to get gigs in New York and LA,” Sardelle says. “But Cleveland needs this. I’m a lifelong Clevelander and I completely have the intention of always like keeping this at home.” 🔥


  • Check out Crobar’s schedule here for the next PERF.
  • Follow Joey Sardelle on Instagram here.






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