Who’s behind D.O.G. today, and how does each event come together?
The core team that makes up D.O.G is headed by our founder Tazmé Pillay (DRAGMOTHER) and Johan Schutte (Phijos). They’re co-directors and creative partners. The idea for The End actually came from a phone call between the two of them, when after a moment of frustration they contemplated the desire to kill their darlings - in this case, Party, Art, and Sex. People call them Mom & Dad.
Then there’s Shiraz, our community manager, Anya Viljoen who leads the Safety & Awareness team, and Kieran McGregor on lighting.
D.O.G has always been a revolving door of creative collaborators and artists. Each party has its own conceptual framework, and we reach out to people from within the community who would be best suited toward bringing the vision to life.
For The End, it’s Arafa Hamadi on set design, Ridah Parker and Carlo Rall on build and fabrication, and artists Claudia Botha, Argo, and Brooklyn Dahmer contributing installations. Mikky George is the production manager for this project.
We also have an awesome team of volunteers - people from our D.O.G family put so much love into the space, and they’re often really keen to get involved and help build it.
Our records trace D.O.G.’s first event back to 2017, born partly out of frustration with a queer scene you’ve described as restrictive. Nearly a decade on, how has D.O.G. changed, and what still stands in the way?
The Death Of Glitter was born out of frustration with a queer scene that felt performative and inaccessible to certain types of queerness. There was a particular kind of queer performance that was prioritised. You had to look a certain way or dress a certain way to be regarded as part of the scene. Since D.O.G. started in 2017, a lot of that has shifted, and we think we've played a role in making that happen.
In many ways, we forged a path for the queer underground that exists in Cape Town today, and we think it's important to acknowledge that.
The most obvious change has been the scale. D.O.G. has grown from a DIY club night into a much larger happening, with its own brand identity. That growth has brought incredible opportunities to build connections and create visibility for the work happening within Cape Town's queer scene. But it's also taken us, to some extent, away from the nucleus of the ecosystem we originally emerged from.
Our biggest challenge now is finding a balance between those two realities: honouring our origins as an underground queer punk rave while growing in a way that's sustainable for everyone involved. We're not fighting the same battles we were in 2017. Now we're figuring out how to stay connected to the community we helped make space for, without losing sight of what made D.O.G. necessary in the first place.
You’ve described the line-up as an encounter between the old guard and the new guard, with punk-rock energy and feminine expression running through them. How do you go about bringing those energies into the same night?
The old guard refers to artists who’ve been part of D.O.G. since its inception, like Pure, Brooklyn, and of course Tazmé (DRAGMOTHER). The new guard includes artists like DAMAGE, Deylin Universe and Ayli, who came to D.O.G. as young people, discovered themselves through those experiences, and fell in love with club culture. Seeing that generation move from the dancefloor to the line-up is really special.
The punk-rock energy comes through in acts like Cistamatic and live performers like Buh, while most of the line-up being made up of women is something we’re particularly excited about. But bringing these different energies together has always felt pretty natural to us. D.O.G. was conceived as a space for radical experimentation and bold imaginings of sonic realities. We’ve never been interested in programming line-ups according to conventional expectations. We’re looking for artists who connect with the concept of a party and can bring that vision to life.
With THE END, the line-up is part of a bigger story. We’re confronting the fear of death and imagining it not as an ending, but as a portal into a beginning we couldn’t have anticipated. We want the music to reflect the different stages of that journey. Cistamatic brings the angst and rage; Deylin Universe and Jamie’s extended hard techno sets introduce a sense of chaos, evoking what might await us on the other side.
The collision between live music and electronic sound makes the whole experience less predictable. It’s about understanding the vision of the party and committing to the story we’re telling. The line-up isn’t just a list of artists. It’s about what each person brings to the world we’re creating for that night.
D.O.G. has never held artists to strict genre boundaries. What happens on a dancefloor when selectors are trusted to follow their instincts instead of solely aiming to please a crowd?
Bitch, you make magic. Giving selectors the freedom to think beyond genre boundaries allows them to play (important word). That opens the dancefloor up not only to new music and unexpected experiences, but to each other. It creates a dancefloor that feels more alive, awake and active, and that remains open to wherever the night might go. You’re watching an artist follow their instinct, but you’re also making that instinct happen.
We think there’s something really important about bringing a sense of freedom and play back into club culture. Music doesn’t always need to fit into a particular category or follow a set of rules. Sometimes the most exciting moments happen when a DJ takes a risk, makes an unexpected connection between sounds, or takes the room somewhere nobody anticipated. If you don’t like it - don’t dance. And that’s okay! The dancefloor is a site of protest too - we respect that, we want it to challenge you.
That sense of liberation is what has always made D.O.G.’s dancefloor feel like a site of community gathering rather than just a club. It’s about creating an environment where people can let go of their expectations, be open to new experiences and connect with one another through music.
D.O.G. asks people to take part in the night rather than watch it. What shifts when the crowd becomes part of the creative expression, rather than an audience facing a stage?
We’ve always said that the true performers at D.O.G. are the crowd. All we’re really trying to do is create a space where people can live out their best lives and be fucking superstars.
We want people to walk in and feel like pop stars, superstar DJs, supermodels, or whatever the fiercest, most radical version of themselves looks like. We’re giving them the space, the stage and the freedom to play out those fantasies without the inhibitions that exist in other places. No judgement here - just lots of yaas. We make space for everyone’s vision of themselves, at whatever stage - we want you to feel fierce even if you’re still cooking. You still have a place with us. When you get to experience that version of yourself, even for one night, something shifts.
We think that’s part of how D.O.G. has changed Cape Town’s queer scene. When people experience a different version of themselves, and a different version of the world, they begin to believe that they can make that world a reality beyond the dancefloor. They take that feeling into their everyday lives.
When the crowd becomes part of the creative expression, people stop being spectators and start imagining something different together. They leave the party believing they can change the fucking world, and then they go out and do it. And we’re proof of that.
You’ve held events at Texas, Evol, The Alley and The Factory, and this edition returns to Botanik Social House. What brought you back there?
Evol is the birthplace of D.O.G. and, in many ways, will always be our home. We moved the party out of Evol in 2024 because we’d outgrown the club, and we wanted to experiment with larger-scale events that could accommodate the needs and demands of our audience. That led us to venues like The Factory and The Alley.
THE END is actually our first time working with Botanik Social House. We felt it was the right space for this particular party because of its architecture. THE END is a party about death, and about confronting something that carries an enormous amount of magnitude and gravitas. Botanik’s interior has this hollow, almost cathedral-like quality that immediately felt right for the world we wanted to create.
We’re building THE END around the idea of a funeral for a party girl named Glitter. It’s about facing your fear of death and considering the possibility that death isn’t an ending, but a portal into a future you never imagined was possible.
We wanted people to feel as though they were entering a funerary hall, a space that could hold the emotional and conceptual weight of that experience. Botanik’s architecture becomes an essential part of that world-building. It isn’t just the venue where the party happens; it’s part of the story we’re telling.
What should people expect from D.O.G: THE END, and is there anything on the line-up or in the room you’re particularly excited for people to experience?
THE END is a celebration of the inevitable. It came from the idea of confronting death not as something finite, but as an infinite possibility. Death is the ultimate unknown. And if D.O.G. is an ongoing exercise in imagining queer utopias, then the unknown is where the most radical futures become possible. What could be more unknown than death? We’re using it as a vessel into the next phase of our queer utopia.
Practically, that means we’re throwing a funeral for D.O.G.’s first decade, wrapped in the story of a party girl named Glitter, who was a fixture of Cape Town’s scene between 2014 and 2018 and has recently died. We’re inviting people to pay their respects to some of the best parties of their lives: to revisit those memories, relive them and, in a sense, remake them.
The party also takes us back to the radical outlook D.O.G. started with. The line-up is punkier, more confrontational, and brings us back to those early days at Evol, when D.O.G. was a laboratory for experimenting with queer art and imagining what it could be. We’re returning to that spirit to move forward into something new.
We’re excited for people to experience what we’re building inside Botanik, and to see the venue used in a way that serves the vision of the party. We’re also excited about the collision of sounds on the line-up. You have a DJ like Lightbeams on the same stage as Cistamatic. It captures the unpredictability we’re after.
More than anything, we want people to arrive with an open mind. Let the space challenge you. Leave your hang-ups at the door. Allow yourself to be taken somewhere unexpected. We’re inviting people to experience death, and whatever might exist beyond it.
Community ticket registration puts POC, queer, trans and femme people first, and anyone facing financial barriers is invited to reach out. How does that work in practice, and what has it taught you about who gets to be in the room?
Our community ticket programme is something we’re incredibly proud of. We make free tickets available to POC, queer, trans and femme people, as well as anyone facing financial barriers. It’s not about making people prove they deserve to be there. It’s about making sure the tickets reach the people who need them.
D.O.G. was founded by a queer femme person of colour, by and for these communities. These are the people D.O.G. will always be for; all the strange kids.
There’s a practical tension as we grow. We want to pay our artists and crew fairly, which needs a sustainable model, but the people at the heart of D.O.G. may not be able to afford rising ticket prices. Community tickets are how we hold both. For THE END, we’ve made 100 available, because accessibility isn’t an add-on. It’s part of why D.O.G. exists.
Where do you still see exclusion in Cape Town’s queer nightlife, and how does D.O.G. push against it?
Maybe one of the biggest issues is that queer nightlife has become a bit of a buzzword. The term is increasingly used to describe events that don’t necessarily align with the values of queer underground culture. These might be events with corporate sponsorship or significant financial backing, created by people who come from a certain level of privilege, but that don’t necessarily reflect the experiences of Cape Town’s queer community or the grassroots, independent promoters building these spaces from nothing.
For us, exclusion happens when people use the language of queer culture without sharing its values, or when the resources and access that come with visibility aren’t shared with the communities that created these spaces in the first place.
We push against that by continuing to do what we’ve always done. D.O.G. is an independent project that works with people from within our community. We support queer, trans, femme and POC artists, and build experiences around the instincts and perspectives of the communities we’re part of. In a way, simply continuing to exist on our own terms is an act of resistance.
We’re also proud of the parties that have emerged since D.O.G. began, many of which are taking this work further and pushing the scene forward. We see these spaces as an important part of Cape Town’s queer nightlife future. D.O.G. helped make room for them, and we don’t need to occupy all that space ourselves.
When we first started, we were directly pushing against the status quo. Today, there are so many incredible parties doing that work. We don’t need to position ourselves at the centre of the scene or as its leaders. Part of our legacy is the space we’ve created for others to do things differently.
We’ll keep creating space for our community, staying true to ourselves and supporting the people shaping what queer nightlife in Cape Town can become.
In May you held a public discourse event at One Park. What did people say that challenged you, and has any of it changed the way D.O.G. operates?
The discourse at One Park felt necessary because we’d become aware of a disconnect between our community and some of the decisions we were making. We also felt there weren’t enough meaningful channels for people to give us feedback. We don’t think the Instagram comments section is the place to work through those things. It’s easy to leave a comment, say what you need to say and disappear. We wanted people to sit across from us, speak openly and have a real conversation, away from the noise of the algorithm.
What came out of it was incredibly valuable. We spoke about D.O.G.’s identity, how the party has evolved, who gets represented in the spaces we create, and some of the collaborations we’ve been involved in over the past few years. To be honest, we had questions about some of those collaborations ourselves. We’ve made mistakes, and we’re not ashamed to say that. We’re still figuring out what D.O.G. looks like now that it’s grown beyond the party it was when it started, and we’re willing to take accountability for decisions that might not have aligned with the values people associate with the space.
One of the biggest takeaways was realising how closely people have been watching that evolution. For many people, D.O.G. has never just been a party. It’s a place where they’ve explored their identities, found community, built friendships and developed creative confidence. They feel invested in what happens to it, and they have expectations of us. The fact that people were willing to show up, give us their time and have difficult conversations was incredibly special.
The discourse also reminded us that D.O.G. doesn’t need to be the centre of everything. We want to be a connector, a resource and a source of support for the collectives and younger parties coming up behind us. We want better ways for people to communicate with us, greater transparency around our decisions and funding, and experiences that respond to what our community actually wants.
The conversation felt like a reset. We didn’t come away with every answer, but we were reminded of what people want from D.O.G. and how deeply they care about its future. We’re entering a new phase, and we want to do that with our community rather than make decisions in isolation. It’s a bit like a family meeting. You might not agree on everything, but you sit down, listen to each other and work out where you go from here.
Cape Town’s queer nightlife spans a variety of events and collectives that each hold a different kind of space. What does D.O.G. bring to this landscape that feels like its own?
D.O.G. holds a place of legacy in the story of Cape Town’s queer nightlife. Alongside parties like the Pink Party, which is sadly coming to a close this year, we’re part of a history that has shaped what queer nightlife in the city looks like today.
When D.O.G. started, our rebellion against the existing scene was what made us distinct. We were creating something that didn’t really have space to exist at the time. But the landscape has changed, partly because of the work we did. The queer underground we’re part of today is, in many ways, a product of that rebellion. We’re not rebelling against the current landscape because we actually like what it’s become.
Today’s underground includes parties like Bathhouse, Chaos, Reverence, and Gida, alongside so many other events with their own identities and points of view. It’s incredible to see these parties arrive unafraid to speak their minds and build spaces around their own ideas of what queer nightlife can be. D.O.G. was doing that when fewer parties were approaching nightlife in this way. Seeing that spirit become part of the wider scene is a meaningful part of our legacy.
Queer nightlife also extends far beyond club nights. The ballroom scene, for example, has grown into an incredibly inspiring community, and we’ve collaborated with people working across that part of queer culture. The way ballroom creates space for identity, expression, visibility and community resonates deeply with how we’ve always approached D.O.G.
Perhaps that’s the distinction that matters most. Queer nightlife can be a space where you go to be seen, but we’ve always wanted it to be a space where you go to see one another, too. It’s about more than being in a room together. It’s about recognising each other, creating community and making room for people to exist in ways they might not be able to elsewhere.
D.O.G. has described queer joy, hedonism and celebration as forms of resistance. What can a mixing pot of music, art, fashion and shared pleasure do that more conventional events can’t?
We think spaces like D.O.G. give people the freedom to dream beyond their reality. They let people imagine worlds, fantasies and ways of living that extend beyond the circumstances they’re in. And when people get to experience those possibilities, even for one night, it can inspire them to go out and change the world to look a little more like the fantasy they’ve experienced.
A mixing pot of music, art and fashion creates what you might call a happening. Think of the cultural ecosystems that emerged around places like Andy Warhol’s Factory: spaces where ideas were exchanged, identities were explored and culture was created through the collision of different people and practices. D.O.G. has always had the potential to work like that. It becomes a meeting place for creatives, radical thinkers and people experimenting with identity, social politics, body politics and all the messy, complicated things that make us who we are.
Those ideas can meet, challenge each other, collide, or maybe people just fuck in the bathroom and create something completely new and incredible. You never know what’s going to come out of bringing those people together, and that’s the point. The possibilities extend beyond the party itself, influencing the culture and the world outside it.
We don’t think the combination of music, art and fashion should be treated as a special attraction or a niche selling point. D.O.G. isn’t a costume party or an art party. These things coexist because that’s what happens when you create a space that encourages people to experiment and express themselves freely. It’s a party of endless potential.
We want people to feel free to play, dream and express every part of themselves: the ugly parts, the beautiful parts, and the parts they might not even know exist yet. D.O.G. gives people the space to bring those things into the world and see what happens when they invite other people to play with them, too. That’s the possibility we’re interested in: creating something none of us could have imagined on our own.
