Inside re:frame: How Framework's Soundstage Series Reimagines the Underground Show [Q&A]
Framework co-founder Kobi Danan on the concept bringing top house and techno talent – and a fresh perspective – to Los Angeles' underground.
Rachel Narozniak

Los Angeles' dance/electronic events are largely concentrated in Hollywood and DTLA. Held at Reframe Studios in Atwater Village, re:frame – Framework’s new underground event series – operates just outside these usual hubs, continuing the independent dance music promoter and production company’s tradition of challenging the status quo.
A state-of-the-art film, media, and production campus catering primarily to film and television production, Reframe Studios has historically gotten a different type of action than what it’s seen since re:frame debuted at a Jan. 16 grand opening party headlined by MK. By now, the live concept’s reputation likely precedes it. Videos of re:frame’s soundstage (a large, enclosed studio space that affords complete creative control over sound, lighting, and environment) quickly circulated on social media, previewing an immersive space that evokes the look and feel of Coachella’s Yuma Tent.
From the glittering shark art installation suspended above the decks to custom visual production that tilts and shifts throughout the night, re:frame is as much a visual spectacle as it is an underground show. That, Framework co-founder Kobi Danan says, was all by design.
“We’re essentially scaling up a club experience, and a club isn’t about fixating on a stage; it’s about the room as a whole,” he tells Beatportal.
It’s yet another way the series – marketed as a place “where everything feels new, but it also has that warehouse factor” – fittingly reframes expectations for an underground show in LA But this is nothing new for the brand that’s built its name on transforming unconventional sites like Hollywood Boulevard and Union Station into spaces for imaginative dance/electronic events.
From now through Feb. 13, re:frame will host some of the top acts in house and techno, including CamelPhat, Dombresky, and The Martinez Brothers. View re:frame’s Winter 2026 events calendar here, and read on for our Q&A with Danan (pictured below), where we unpack the concept and what it adds to the Los Angeles scene.

Was there a gap in Los Angeles’ nightlife landscape that re:frame was specifically designed to fill?
There’s always room in the market for a new experience or venue; re:frame was intentionally conceived to occupy a missing middle ground in Los Angeles. It sits between the intimacy of smaller clubs and the scale of the city’s larger venues. There are very few indoor spaces operating at this capacity, and most comparable venues in Los Angeles tend to skew much larger. That gap felt both real and worth exploring.
What felt compelling about reimagining a soundstage – a space traditionally built for film and television – as an underground environment?
You’re starting with a foundation that’s already optimized for soundproofing, with extensive ceiling rigging that offers complete creative freedom – add to that some serious air conditioning and high-end security systems, and it allows you to focus on the experience without fighting the space.
Your Red Studios shows in 2024 clearly influenced the direction of re:frame. What specific lessons from those nights carried over into this new series?
Those shows revealed to us how valuable it is to work within a large, adaptable building that can support ambitious production that can be placed almost anywhere. That ability to build a fully realized experience inside a space, rather than being constrained by it, has been a major influence on re:frame.
You’ve emphasized that the room where re:frame takes place isn’t designed to be purely stage-focused. Why was that important to the experience?
At heart, we’re not a traditional concert promoter – even though we operate as one. Our roots are in nightlife. We’re essentially scaling up a club experience, and a club isn’t about fixating on a stage; it’s about the room as a whole. The experience should feel like it’s happening everywhere, not just up front.
Los Angeles doesn’t have a centralized nightlife district. How has that reality shaped Framework’s philosophy around site-specific experiences, rather than relying solely on traditional venue ownership?
This is true, Los Angeles' geography never really allowed for a single nightlife district – it’s too spread out. While that presents challenges, it also creates opportunities. People here are accustomed to traveling for experiences, or [they] live near these event pockets we’re creating. Ideally, a nightlife district would exist, but in its absence, site-specific venues allow us to meet audiences where they already are or give them the chance to explore a new area of the city.



What do you feel Framework uniquely understands about Los Angeles that informs how you build experiences here?
Honestly, we’re not trying to build something for LA specifically. We build our events from a global perspective. Our foundation is underground music on an international level, and we work with partners and artists all over the world. That’s the reference point.
From there, we figure out how to make that experience work in Los Angeles within the city’s parameters – its legalities, operational constraints, safety standards, and permitted hours. It’s not about chasing what people in LA want. It’s about bringing a global, standard experience into the city we love and making it work here.
When you reflect on Framework’s evolution, what’s changed most in how you think about scale and sustainability?
We aren't a festival promoter – we don’t do multiple stages. Scale, for us, is intentional and focused. We take pride in growing alongside artists, from an intimate room like Sound Nightclub to shows selling 40,000 tickets in this market.
As long as the right venues exist, we’re committed to taking artists as far as they can go. Sustainability, to us, is about maintaining momentum, building longevity, and creating a model that allows both artists and the company to evolve without losing identity.



























