Two Years of Sound, Space, and Community

Sexbeat exists somewhere between contradiction.

It’s dark, loud, and a little unsettling, but also warm, familiar, and strangely welcoming. It feels like a party you weren’t invited to, and at the same time, like a place that’s been waiting for you. There are rooms, corners, shadows that don’t fully explain themselves. Somewhere, music is already playing, loud and magnetic, pulling you further in. And for a moment, a quiet thought slips in: how long has this been here?

That tension isn’t accidental. It’s the foundation of everything Ellettra has built. Except, Ellettra doesn’t describe herself as a builder.

“I see myself more as someone who goes to a secondhand furniture store,” she explains, “picks up a few pieces, and puts my own spin on them.”

That instinct to rearrange, reshape, and chase a feeling rather than construct something perfect is what led to Sexbeat’s recent rebuild. Not a technical overhaul, but something closer to waking up one morning and deciding the entire space needed to breathe differently. The cemetery moved. The entrance shifted. Staircases replaced portals, adding a sense of movement and stepping into something unknown rather than simply arriving.

Ellettra describes the ideal first moment inside Sexbeat as stumbling into something hidden, like a party you weren’t meant to find, but somehow did.At the same time, there’s something slightly off about it. Sexbeat isn’t built like a traditional club - it’s built inside a house. There’s a natural warmth to it: furniture, smaller spaces, darker corners that feel almost intimate. Layered on top of that is something sharper. Part of that atmosphere draws from outside the game. Ellettra cites inspiration from Madame Underground Club, one of São Paulo’s oldest goth venues, formerly known as Madame Satã. The influence shows in the way Sexbeat blends intimacy with something more underground and unconventional. As Ellettra puts it, it’s a bit like being welcomed in by a grandmother who offers you coffee and cake, but might also be slightly unhinged. Sexbeat isn’t just a place, but something closer to an ongoing story.

“To me, Sexbeat feels like a kind of sitcom with a perfect soundtrack that I watch every Thursday and in which I participate as the director and part of the cast,” Ellettra explains. “I say that because when I’m there, I feel like I’m in another world beyond the game; people seem to have really embraced it with the stories of The Ham and the Swine Dancers, Sexgloo and the murder of the penguins, my character linked to that of a benevolent dictator who has an evil owl by her side (BellaNightowl), not to mention the people who appear out of nowhere and are unique characters.”

It’s in that chaos that Sexbeat really comes alive. What unfolds each night isn’t just music or movement, but something shaped collectively: inside jokes, recurring characters, and moments that spiral into something no one planned. Conversations take over the local chat, stories build on themselves, and the space starts to feel less like a venue and more like something shared.

Sexbeat doesn’t follow a single sound, but it isn’t without structure either. Sets move between darkwave, EBM, industrial, post-punk, techno, and even shoegaze, all genres that don’t always sit comfortably next to each other, but somehow work here. Sexbeat began in 2024 with a simple idea: a space for music that didn’t quite fit anywhere else, sounds that felt a little darker, a little stranger, but still deeply alive on a dance floor. Early encouragement from DJs like Sahyuri helped push that vision outward, while artists like Holes For Use played a key role in shaping its identity.

As Sexbeat reaches its second anniversary this month, that sense of shared history feels more visible than ever. The pin-ups become more than just aesthetic. They’re a quiet acknowledgment of the people who helped shape what the space has become.

For Ellettra, these moments, whether it’s a set, a conversation, a character, or even a single image, are all expressions of something she describes with one word: capricho.

“Capricho means a sudden and unfounded whim, a tantrum, stubbornness, or an extravagant and fleeting desire. It can also refer to the care, attention, and dedication put into accomplishing something.”

Capricho sits at the heart of Sexbeat. It’s impulsive, expressive, a little chaotic, but always intentional in its own way in a space where fleeting moments are given just enough care to feel like they matter.

Even the name itself reflects that philosophy. Sexbeat takes its name from the band and their song of the same title, a track rooted in the post-punk movement of the 1980s, a scene defined by experimentation, contrast, and emotional intensity. It’s a reference that captures not just the sound of the club, but its identity: something diverse, a little unconventional, and unapologetically its own.

And maybe that’s why it feels the way it does when you first step inside.

Not like something new or something you need to understand, but something that’s always been there, waiting to be found.

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