For many Americans, the term “line dance” calls to mind uncles in 10-gallons turning their Tecovas to “Boot Scootin’ Boogie,” or even an awkward scuffle around the high school gym when P.E. class gets rained out. Kicking those tired tropes outta the dance hall is Country Fried Dance, which has been queering the communal dance style across Austin into one that prioritizes joy while still keeping the skill alive.
What is Country Fried Dance, you ask? Country Fried Dance is its founder, Nico Osier.
The first time Osier came to line dance was in Detroit, their home city. This wasn’t their first-ever time taking part in the country & western dance tradition, as Osier says there’d been weddings, school, and other events where dance was obligatory. Instead, they recall this reopening gala for the Detroit Institute of Arts being where the social aspect truly dawned on them.
“‘This is so cool,’” Osier remembers thinking. “It was very intergenerational [and had] various cultural groups. I was just like, ‘Wow, I’m dancing with somebody’s granny and also somebody’s baby. … It just felt kind of special and silly, in a way that I was like, ‘This is the magic. This is why we learned [line dance] in gym class.’”
Anyone who’s taken part in one of Osier’s many lessons via Country Fried can attest to “the magic” being very much carried over from that long-ago line dance into their current events in Austin. Circa 2019 was when the first inklings of the dance lesson legend took root, as Osier was enraptured after a spin or two at DJ Ed West’s – fka DJ Boi Orbison – queer country night Neon Rainbows. At that time, two-step and line dance was a small part of the event’s larger queer programming, but Osier wasn’t satisfied with only learning a few moves.
They began to trawl the internet to learn new dances, whether that was through written instruction or video. It wasn’t long before they premiered their newfound knowledge on the Neon Rainbows dance floor. “Some of [the dances] were easy enough that people could follow along,” Osier says, “but sometimes people would come up to me afterwards and be like, ‘Oh my God, I saw you dancing onstage. That was so cool. Can you teach me?’ I’m like, ‘Yes, and it’s currently 1:30 in the morning, and you look like you’ve had seven drinks, so probably not right now. Like, maybe we should meet up another time.’”
Osier followed through on that promised other time via a class they taught in a rented dance studio and advertised through Lex, a popular Sapphic dating app, and a Canva flyer on Instagram. “Come learn to line dance, free lesson, or donate towards the rental fee, basically, is what I was trying to achieve,” they admit, “and I was shocked when a few of my friends came and like 20 strangers. And I was like, ‘Oh, dang y’all.’” Their intent was a one-and-done lesson, but plenty of participants asked when the next one was – a response that fueled Osier’s journey forward.
Their next big break was partnering with Ed West’s Austin-based Neon Rainbows – which shares a name with its flagship nightlife event. West remembers Osier as a regular at the quntry affair for quite some time, but their paths didn’t directly cross until a little after West introduced Bronco, a bimonthly line dance event at South Austin’s Sagebrush. The honky-tonk provided a perfect place for Neon Rainbows to expand its offerings beyond DJ sets and drag shows, but West says it was difficult to find a consistent dance teacher. Osier attended the first two Bronco events with a great deal of enthusiasm, describing themselves as “happier than a pig in mud.” When West put out the call for someone to lead the dance lessons, Osier answered.
“Nico had said he had started learning some dances on his own and what happened was I basically just handed him a microphone and was like, ‘Why don’t you do it?’” West laughs at the memory. “Literally, I said, ‘Why don’t you just do this? You seem pretty into it.’ And sure enough, he bought himself a little headset, wireless mic, and he showed up to the gig with, I want to say, 20 pages of notes, and taught maybe like 20 people there that night how to do a line dance. And I think he’s what? On his 50th or 100th dance now?”
Since those initial lessons, Country Fried Dance has become more than just 20 people in one room. Folks have gathered to learn new and classic line dance moves from Osier in honky-tonks, nightclubs, and even public library locations. “One of the librarians just happened to have gone to a Bronco workshop with, I think, their partner, and they just had a really fun time. And they were like, ‘Do you travel? Would you come to the library?’” Osier recalls. “Before the first one even launched, I’m pretty sure the other library branches were like, ‘Well, we want to do it, [too].”
Over time, Osier says, “my confidence has grown – my ability to command [the] attention of a room, my ability to build community.” They’ve also developed skills as a choreographer, which they admit wasn’t initially a title they considered for themselves. “Most of the dances I teach were choreographed by somebody else,” Osier says. “I probably have like 10 that I do that are my own. But the first time I did it, it was because somebody in the community who was a regular dancer just came up to me. This tall femme who I’m friends with was like, ‘For my birthday, I will have a custom line dance to this song.’ And I was like, ‘Yes, ma’am, I’ll figure it out.’”
Another factor motivating their forays into choreo was creating approachable dances for less-experienced line dancers. “If you went online and looked up beginner line dances, a lot of them are going to be kind of tricky for somebody who doesn’t dance often or has no prior training,” Osier says. “[I’m] trying to create dances that I felt would be fun and have a little bit of pizzazz and je ne sais quoi, but were accessible and using the same building blocks that were in the dances that the community already was doing.” That dedication to providing for all levels of dance education speaks to Osier’s love for teaching overall. “I like seeing people get that sort of eureka look on their face,” they say. “I joke that if I could bottle that – the look of somebody who’s figured something out that was really hard for them – I wouldn’t need coffee or Diet Coke.”
For West, one part of what sets Osier and Country Fried Dance apart from other line dance instruction around Austin is their attention to music selection. Often this entails switching out a classic dance’s usual tune for a choice that highlights non-white artists and non-country genres. An example was their approach to the popular line dance Burn It to the Ground, choreographed to a Nickelback song of the same name. Osier, not a Nickelback fan, found the dance actually went great to Megan Thee Stallion and Cardi B’s hit “WAP” and so swapped in that song instead.
“Seeing everybody doing [Burn It to the Ground] to ‘WAP’ was just, like, life-giving for me,” Osier says. “And [the dance] has a high kick in it too. To hear people talking about a WAP, and then all of a sudden somebody’s leg is just like flying in the air towards their head: That’s funny to me.”
Reflecting on their partnership, which has blossomed to include further queer country occasions like monthly stomp Stampede at 29th Street Ballroom and even a second, advanced-level Bronco workshop, West calls Osier’s commitment singular. “His passion and his dedication I just have not seen in any other dance instructor,” says West. “Not just line dance instructor, but dance instructor. Put a period after that. I know plenty of them out there. They’re all really nice, and they’re great. … But he definitely has this drive.”
Country Fried Dance’s growth represents, to Osier, many unexpected but wholly exciting developments. In addition to the instruction side of things, they also head up a dance troupe under the CFD moniker that’s performed at the Paramount, and Osier personally got invited up on an ACL stage alongside fellow Austin line dancers Cowboy Can Can. This month even finds them collaborating with Aussie queer line dancer Ponyboy, aka Olly Elyte, for a party/lesson hosted by Neon Rainbows and Elyte’s Do Si Don’tcha on Nov. 19.
“Ponyboy has always been a huge inspiration to me since I first started line dancing,” Osier says. “I love that Ponyboy wants to also include the local community when [they] could just do a separate event and have nothing to do with us. We’re not in competition, and our goal is the shared love of line dance and learning from each other.”
Trying to think of where their boots will land next, Osier throws out further social dances, hiring an administrative assistant, and getting more corporate events and private lessons to keep community gatherings low-cost or free as desired outcomes. But ultimately? Their aims remain the same as when Osier first landed on the name Country Fried Dance: to teach people to line dance wherever they’re at.
“I wanted it to be down-home, pull up a chair,” they recall. “Everybody’s welcome. No frills. It’ll get the job done, but it’s not fancy – like, short-order diner style, or, like, barbecued hot dogs.”
Country Fried Dance hosts lessons at Neon Rainbows and Do Si Dont’cha’s Queer Linedance Party on Nov. 19 at Elysium.
This article appears in November 14 • 2025.