Legendary nightclub TBA Brooklyn, long a stomping ground for established and up-and-coming DJs, is closing its doors after more than a decade. It plans to host a final show on March 15—exactly 12 years to the day after it opened.
The venue, tucked beneath the Williamsburg Bridge in a former garage, is intimate by design. On any given weekend, sweaty bodies sway to house and techno like a group of schooling fish. The inside is reminiscent of a warehouse: raw and modular, the floors left unfinished. The DJ booth sits slightly perched over the crowd, and Void speakers blast crystal-clear sound across the dance floor.
While small in size, the club’s role in shaping Brooklyn nightlife has been huge. TBA—along with former Wythe Avenue neighbor Output—was one of the first brick-and-mortar clubs to open in Brooklyn back in 2013, when Manhattan was at the epicenter of NYC’s after-hours programming. “Playing places like TBA, Output or underground warehouses, it was a movement,” says Pablo Romero, a Queens-born DJ and owner of Archivio Record Shop in Dumbo.
“It engraved integrity in me and many other DJs. It gave artists purpose playing at TBA and Output because history was being made without you even noticing.”
A party in the early days of TBA. (Courtesy of TBA)
No Sleep til’ Brooklyn
During the tail end of the 2010s, the borough’s unique makeup of vacant lots and waterfront warehouses meant longer parties with fewer noise complaints. As rents sky-rocketed in Manhattan, moving to Brooklyn was an intriguing idea for prospective club owners, but it still came with considerable risk.
Would partygoers venture to an outerborough? Would an absence of foot traffic hurt their bottom line? Could a legally licensed venue compete with the no-frills, anything-goes parties? These were some of the questions Gio Gulez and Mehmet Erkaya, co-owners of TBA, grappled with before opening. “Twelve years ago, there weren’t any clubs in Brooklyn,” Gulez says. “Williamsburg had a lot of troubles. It was a very barren shanty place. When you came in from the City, we would print out MapQuest maps because cab drivers had no idea where North Seventh and Bedford was.”
More than a decade later, it’s safe to say Gulez and his partners made a prudent move. Brooklyn is now not only a hub for electronic music in the states, but also across the world, thrown into the same conversation as Berlin, London, and Ibiza as global destinations for clubbing.
Illegal underground parties like Blkmarket Membership and Resolute planted a flag in the borough, but with the openings of Output and TBA—and, to some extent, Galapagos Art Space before them—the scene seemingly attained its legitimacy. Erkaya, who helped start Blkmarket, paid homage to those underground parties in his venue’s name. TBA, short for “to be announced,” is a nod to the glory days of raving, when party addresses weren’t released until a few hours before they began to reduce the risk of police intervention.
“People Over Profit”
The success of TBA shouldn’t be measured in dollars, but in its longevity and the impact it had on the community. The club was unique in that it gave locals an opportunity to perform in a professional nightclub environment. With a top-tier sound system, custom lighting, and projection mapping, it was both a privilege and a rarity for undiscovered artists to spin records on a state-of-the-art setup.
“In this business, it’s not always a good image to give a chance to everyone,” Gulez noted. “A lot of clubs meticulously arrange their lineups to their style. We didn’t do that. We just wanted to open our doors to everybody. That has led to a lot of love.”
But the club was more than a place to dance. It was a community space. The owners would hire employees with disabilities. They would offer their couches to the homeless after closing. They would share a portion of their bar and door sales with performers and promoters, offering a livelihood to countless people.“It naturally evolved into this community place,” Gulez continued. “Everybody called it ‘home.’ It supported thousands of people. We’re almost like a nonprofit, considering none of us got rich from this venture. We always put people over profit.”
Pablo Romero spinning vinyl at TBA. (Courtesy of Pablo Romero)
A Meeting Place for The Scene
In the food industry, people often ask where chefs eat when they’re not working, which is a telltale sign of a good restaurant. The same is true for a nightclub.
TBA is where DJs, promoters, and audiophiles met. It was where the industry could coalesce, talk shop, and listen to quality house music. It was a place for young kids, like Romero, to cut their teeth and learn the art of DJing in a professional setting without the crippling pressure of immediately impressing anyone or selling hundreds of tickets.
“TBA was the only place in Brooklyn that gave me an opportunity, and I’ll forever be grateful for that,” Romero warmly recalled. “It created aspiration for someone who maybe was in their bedroom trying to play records. TBA opened the heart and mind of a young kid like me to aspire to maybe pursue this as a career.”
“Places like TBA offer something that has intrinsic value,” says Benny Soto, a longtime promoter and DJ. “It’s not tangible. It has cultural importance. It’s an incubator. It’s so crucial for young people to become artists, to really work on their craft in a small place and express themselves artistically. Those places launch great careers, and we can’t take them for granted.”
The venue was also a place for established DJs like Soto to dig deep in their crates and test new records. “At TBA, one of the things I learned was that sometimes the record you’re most scared of playing, that’s the biggest record you’ll play all night,” Soto noted. “I could play a classic house record and then follow it with a great salsa track, or maybe something a little bit more pop, and it just kind of works. The people were always up for it.”
A Mixmag party. (Photo courtesy of TBA)
“The Club Divisionnaire of New York City”
When the London-based publication Mixmag opened its New York office in 2015 in the club’s back room, TBA gained yet another stamp of authenticity and acclaim. The publication, which focuses on electronic music and clubbing culture, was largely unknown in America and was looking to expand its reach.
Mixmag installed a state-of-the-art sound system at the club and hosted its famous LAB parties on Fridays after work. Huge artists, accustomed to selling out arenas and festivals, would play sets to just dozens of people. Local artists like Jacques Renault, Tim Sweeny, and Francois K would also be invited to play. The parties were always free. As was the alcohol.
For Harrison Williams, a former Mixmag editor, it was a hand-in-hand partnership at every level. TBA already had underground appeal, but after Mixmag started hosting their parties, Harrison said the club’s reputation—along with its audience—considerably widened. “Not every venue is going to be like, ‘Yeah, let’s do a free party and free booze.’ So for TBA to open their doors for that, that was just unbelievable,” Williams said. “It was for the culture, for the fans, and for the love of dance music.”
Romero, a veteran DJ who performed his final TBA set on March 1, said the partnership with Mixmag ultimately earned the Williamsburg venue global recognition as “the club divisionnaire of New York City.” The artists that came through the LAB were so famous—think Armin van Buuren, Benny Benassi, and Boys Noize—the owners felt compelled to knock on neighbors’ doors and ask permission to play the music with no volume limits.
“To see that type of stuff in an intimate setting, it’s so rare where you get to rub shoulders with these big-name DJs,” Williams said. “I think for the fans, you saw it on their faces. There’s never really gonna be anything like that again. For the people that were there, they witnessed something truly special.”
The former mural on the exterior of TBA. (Photo courtesy of TBA)
Hurdles to Overcome
TBA didn’t make it 12 years without hopping a few obstacles.
Like many businesses, it struggled during the pandemic. But even before the lockdowns, the city’s Department of Buildings shut it down for almost six months in 2014. It quarrelled with the city’s antiquated and draconian Cabaret Law, which banned dancing in businesses that didn’t have a Cabaret License. As a workaround, they placed tables on the dance floor and posted a sign that said, “No Dancing.” (No one listened, of course.)
During both the pandemic and the DOB shutdown, the community rallied behind TBA. Greenpoint nightclub Good Room threw some parties to help raise money. People donated en masse on GoFundMe. When COVID-19 rules prohibited dancing, people still came out and partied while sitting.
A Perfect Storm
Beyond its lease ending and, according to Gulez, insurance rates that “double” every year, a confluence of factors led Gulez and Erkaya to pull the plug on TBA.
For starters, Brooklyn nightlife is changing rapidly. Gen Z isn’t drinking like the club kids of yore, gentrification is pushing venues deeper into Brooklyn and Queens, and the club’s owners are starting to feel their age,
Smaller clubs—still plagued with post-pandemic debt—are no longer competing with large-format venues like Avant Gardner’s Brooklyn Mirage. And 2025 has already claimed some of the area’s most celebrated spaces. In February, Black Flamingo ended a decade-long run in South Williamsburg, and after just a few years in operation, Bushwick’s Paragon put up a “for sale” sign, announcing it would close by the end of April.
However, the current state of clubbing isn’t all bleak. For now, great venues like Good Room, Public Records, and Bossa Nova Civic Club still exist. Elsewhere and House of Yes are going strong. Nowadays, home to the popular Mr. Sunday party, was able to renew its lease for another 10 years after a bit of uncertainty. Underground party Resolute has found an established home at H0L0. Gabriela, a newly opened space in Williamsburg from Tiki Disco resident Eli Escobar, is making strides. Refuge and Signal, two new underground venues in Brooklyn, are offering hopeful glimpses at the next chapters for local club cultures.
Yet, despite some wins, the future of live music spaces—of all sizes—remains difficult to forecast with any confidence. Will the remaining venues fill the void? Will we see a shift back to illegal parties? Is there some sustainable and scalable solution we’ve yet to visualize? Only time will tell, but with the closing of TBA, it’s safe to say we’ve arrived at the end of an era.
“To have a legendary, iconic, influential venue like TBA shut down, it’s really sad,” Williams lamented, commending TBA for making it this long. “You think of TBA in New York club culture and you never think it’s going to go away, especially when you look back at all the DJs that went through that place. I mean, it’s just unbelievable, all the talent and parties it launched.
“Right now, just recognize that at any moment, your favorite club could be gone forever, so make sure you don’t take any of it for granted.”
The post The End of an Era: Remembering TBA, One of Brooklyn’s Last Great Nightclubs appeared first on BKMAG.
