Wine with a Pulse

Deux Punx started in a San Francisco garage in 2006, born from the shared obsessions of two wine-addicted ex-punks who had no intention of ever going full-time. [^42^] [^50^] Dan Schaaf — a water resources engineer by day — and Aaron Olson — a software engineer who played drums in a hardcore band — met in 2005 and began making wine together in 2007 with a modest 60 cases. [^50^] Neither had formal training. Neither did internships. They learned piecemeal, year by year, deliberately avoiding the influence of the establishment. "Let's not be influenced, let's be outsiders a little bit," Schaaf explains. [^50^]

The name came from a French neighbour — a spur-of-the-moment decision, not a carefully crafted nod to indie French winemakers. "We didn't overthink it," Schaaf recalls. "I said, 'That's the name!'" [^50^] Simplicity in all things, pragmatic but never dogmatic. The punk references are not marketing — they are DNA. For Schaaf, it was skateboarding. For Olson, it was hardcore drumming. The commonality was frugality: the DIY mentality of making something out of nothing, of pooling scraps of lumber and plywood to build a ramp, of refusing to play by the rules. [^50^]

In 2009, they moved operations to the City of Napa for financial reasons, setting up in a shared roll-up garage in the River East neighbourhood — a space that lends itself perfectly to their minimalist, experimental style. [^40^] [^50^] They have never quit their day jobs. Schaaf believes that being employed full-time in an unrelated field brings a heightened sense of critical perspective to their winemaking. [^50^] The security of a straight gig allows them to take risks in the cellar that full-time winemakers might avoid.

In recent years, Kayne Guzowski has joined the project, bringing a new dynamic. "Dan is the Punk. Kayne is the Un-Punk," the winery explains. "The clash between noise and restraint, chaos and clarity, is what makes these wines what they are." [^42^] This tension — between punk's refusal to play safe and the un-punk's drive for clarity — is the engine of Deux Punx. It is not about being weird for the sake of it. It is about making something no one else is making, something honest, something alive.

Deux Punx's relationship with the natural wine world is complicated. They are listed on RAW WINE and Raisin, recognised as part of the community. [^51^] [^49^] But Schaaf feels a negative effect to being "an outsider" — their wines don't fit the aesthetic of the trendy natural wine fair. [^50^] They are too clean, too honest, too unpretentious. There is no funk for funk's sake, no oxidation as a statement, no weirdness as a badge of honour. Just wine that tastes like where it came from, made by people who refuse to play safe.

The punk ethos is not a middle finger to taste. It is a middle finger to pretension. Schaaf discovered natural wine through Randall Grahm's eccentric approach at Bonny Doon Vineyards — "the first weird wine I got into" — and through Crushpad, the defunct San Francisco winemaking collective that democratised the process. [^50^] The appeal was never about being contrarian; it was about tolerance, about accepting wine on its own terms, about the freedom to make mistakes and learn from them. "Risk and freedom are deeply embedded in their DNA," as one writer observed. [^50^]

The labels are designed by Dan's artist friends — unique, quirky, and paired with musical genius. [^40^] [^41^] Each bottle is a small act of rebellion against the corporate wine aesthetic: no gold foil, no embossed crests, no heritage font. Just art made by friends, wine made by punks, and a belief that the best things in life are shared, not hoarded. "Deux Punx isn't wine for trends or trophies. It's wine with a pulse." [^42^]

Today, Deux Punx continues to operate from their Napa garage, making 700–800 cases annually, hosting tastings, running a wine club with "zero bullshit," and proving that you can make serious, expressive, natural wine without taking yourself seriously. [^42^] [^50^] They are aging punkers in a young person's game, and they wouldn't have it any other way. Truly unpopular since 2008 — and proud of it.