Article originally published October 8, 2013 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

This edition of Denise Benson’s Toronto-nightlife history series tells the story of how a local gay-community landmark was reborn in the late ’80s as a cutting-edge alternative club where you could dance to acid-rock and acid-house alike.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Empire Dancebar, 488A Yonge

Years in operation: 1988-1992

History: In a city where history is so often obliterated or obscured to make way for the new, there’s something comforting about the old clock tower still found atop 484-488 Yonge. It was built in 1870, as part of the original Toronto Fire Hall No. 3, which remained at the address until its move around the corner, to Grosvenor Street, in 1929.

After the hall closed on Yonge, that building was occupied by retail businesses until the St. Charles Tavern took root in 1951. By the early 1960s, the St. Charles was known to be a gay bar. It, along with the nearby Parkside Tavern, became a significant gathering spot that would help hasten the development of queer social life anchored around Yonge during the 1970s. The St. Charles, while also remembered as the focus of homophobic attacks (especially at Halloween), remains one of this city’s best-known gay bars of all time. A number of discos opened above it over the years, with the most popular being The Maygay and Charly’s. A club called Y-Not also operated upstairs in the mid 1980s. By 1987, following years of neglect, the St. Charles was a shadow of its former self and closed.

A year later, the upper level would re-open as Empire Dancebar, a versatile venue dreamed up by friends Dave Craig and Michael Marier. As a teen, Craig had been an MC and DJ in TKO Sound Crew, a popular group that was eventually inducted into the Stylus Awards Hall of Fame in 2008. Craig left TKO to join a new crew, Romantic Sounds, which was started by Marier. Together, they produced events including The House, a weekly underground jam held at the Party Centre at Church and Shuter. As their crowds increased each week, so too did the building manager’s rent demands.

“Eventually Mike’s dad, Bob, suggested that we should get our own space, and he funded the creation of Empire with a quarter-of-a-million dollar investment,” says Craig.

He cites a wide variety of inspirations for the club’s creation, including the house-centric Wednesday nights at The Diamond and Sundays at The Copa, New York’s legendary Paradise Garage, and art galleries in both NYC and T.O. Friend Michele Geister, then a producer at MuchMusic as well as DJ at Tazmanian Ballroom, also introduced Craig to cutting-edge music videos viewed in the Much editing rooms after-hours. This all fed his brain, as did going to check the Taz itself.

“While outside [of the Taz], I saw them turning away tons of good-looking, well-dressed people,” recounts Craig. “I said to myself, ‘I want us to open a club that caters to the people who they are turning away.’ However, on weeknights, I wanted to reach the art crowd, and only the authentic downtown scene, which led us to glam rock and alternative.

“I led the development of the Empire concept and creation of various theme nights, while Mike deserves credit for the awesome sound system, and making the construction happen.”

Empire Dancebar launched November 5, 1988.

Empire’s marquee. Courtesy of Tim Barraball.

Why it was important: Opened at a time when the only busy late-night haunts remaining on Yonge between College and Bloor may well have been the nearby McDonalds and gay dance club Komrads, Empire was a destination spot. With a legal capacity in the area of 600-700 people, it was also spacious—and a bit of a risk as a result.

Craig and Marier chose a dark décor that practically screamed “alternative club!” A long, steep staircase, bathed in black light, led to the second-floor entrance. Empire was a huge, black-and-grey rectangular room with incredibly high ceilings, and signature black-and-white-checkered floor tiles. Its dancefloor was surrounded by industrial chain-link fencing and slightly raised seating areas, complete with round tables upon which staff placed silver ashtrays and red candles.

Bar counters were all a high-gloss black, with the large, main bar located close to windows that overlooked Yonge, while smaller beer bars were placed closer to the club’s rear, along with a pool table, bleachers, and bathrooms. Hallways were painted with murals, many of them in day-glo colours. Local artists were commissioned to create installation pieces while video editors, including early staffers at MuchMusic, crafted custom visuals that played on Empire’s many TV screens. A hundred stick strobe lights placed in the ceiling over the dancefloor would also flash as theatre lights filled the floor with solid colours.

Empire’s dancefloor. Photo courtesy of Tim Barraball.

“From the DJ booth, you could control every light in the room, including every TV, and you could go pitch black in the entire venue except for the lights at the cash registers,” recounts Craig. “The effect was very sensual.”

He also remains proud of the system installed by Marier (whom I was unable to reach for comment).

“The 20-speaker Cerwin Vega surround sound system was designed to feel like you were front row at a live show, with a deep heavy bass line.”

“Empire had fantastic sound and lights,” confirms DJ Mark Oliver, an early Thursday resident. “It felt like a lot of time, money, and effort had been invested. Dave and Mike had loads of experience, and it showed.

“Empire was comparable to Twilight Zone in terms of size, but it had a more industrial feel, not just musically speaking. I also loved the DJ booth; it was so spacious, and there was a view of Yonge Street behind it.”

“I was blown away by the sound system,” agrees Jennifer Johnson, a Boom Boom Room and Big Bop staffer who attended Empire’s opening night, and soon after became its star bartender for three years.

“I was in awe of the Empire space. It was huge and open, but still dark and ominous like the Limelight in NYC. It wasn’t in a church, but it was built in [an old fire hall] so it had a cool bell tower, and crazy underground passageways in the bowels of the building that seemed to go on forever. You could feel the history in that building.”

Johnson had followed friend Chris Sheppard to the Empire, just as she had followed the DJ at clubs including Domino, Voodoo, BioRhythm, and The Copa. Sheppard played some Saturdays (“we couldn’t afford Chris every weekend,” Craig admits), but especially helped put Empire on the map with its first New Year’s Eve party, held December 31, 1988.

“At that time, New Year’s Eve was not a big deal downtown; many places offered free admission or only charged $5-to-$10,” recalls Craig. “My feeling was that we should reinvent the way people partied on that night.

“CFNY [now 102.1 the Edge] was at the forefront of live-to-air broadcasts back then. We had the regular-night party with Chris Sheppard followed by the late-night [party] with Deadly Hedley, all broadcast live. The tickets were $50 and sold out within days. End result: After all that media frenzy, Empire Dancebar was packed to the rafters every weekend.”

At its peak, Empire was open six-to-seven nights each week. Much like Twilight Zone, Voodoo and RPM before it, Empire became known as a venue that bridged the worlds of rock, alternative, house and, to a lesser degree, hip-hop.

“The programming was fairly consistent,” says Craig, who hired all of the DJs, developed the theme nights, and headed promotions. “It was alternative during the week, and dance on the weekends, with Psychedelic Wednesdays sandwiched in between.”

Early resident DJs at Empire included duo JohnPaul, CFNY’s Skot (now Scot) Turner, Siobhan O’Flynn, and Terry Kelly. Silver Crown alumni James Stewart held down Saturdays for a stretch.

DJ James Stewart (right) with friend Vadim. Photo courtesy of Michelle Fabry.

Craig also credits promoter Michael Holtzman for bringing “glamour and fashion to Thursday nights at Empire, with downtown DJs including Dino & Terry and Mark Oliver.”

“I think Dave and Mike were shocked the first time they heard me play for them,” says Oliver, who came to Empire early in his career, when he was known primarily for playing rare groove and acid jazz at Johnny K’s Krush and Tazmanian Ballroom.

“I had made a name for myself in a very short period of time, but only had one turntable at home and no mixer. All my money went towards buying records, so I learned how to mix in front of a live crowd.

“Empire was the biggest room I had played, and the sound and lights were much more like Twilight Zone than the Ballroom, so I mainly played acid house. Patrick ‘D-Nice’ Hodge from Starsound and myself were the only DJs playing ‘Voodoo Ray‘ at the time, so that was a big one. Todd Terry’s early acid-house anthems were in regular rotation, most notably the massive ‘Can You Party‘ under his Royal House alias.”

Similarly, Paul Azevedo played at Empire early in his career. More recently known as owner of electronic-music specialty store Slinky Music, Azevedo was half of Empire’s Monday-night DJ duo and had a heavy lean toward industrial, alt-rock, and metal.

“I loved Paul’s sincere love and devotion to the music,” shares Iain McPherson a.k.a DJ Iain, a Monday night regular.

“Along with Dave Allen at Voodoo, I consider Paul to be one of the two most fearless DJs I’ve ever heard. I hadn’t heard someone play stuff that was so atypical of club music in a club—like Voivod or Metallica’s ‘One‘—and get away with it. Thus, the people who came out on Mondays were totally into the music, too.”

Dave Craig at the DJ booth: Photo courtesy of Michelle Fabry.

“What I loved about the Empire was its diversity, and how smoothly Dave Craig transitioned it to make it so all music lovers felt at home,” offers Jennifer Johnson. “Dave had each night carefully planned and organized with a special event, DJ, or cool new theme. We were rammed most nights.”

Perhaps the busiest and best-known night at Empire was Psychedelic Wednesdays. Clearly inspired by the success of RPM’s huge Psychedelic Mondays, Craig developed the theme and promotions, but it was his hiring of Derek Perkins as resident that gave the night its edge.

Psychedelic Wednesdays promo. Image courtesy of Michelle Fabry.

Perkins was a well-versed rock DJ who’d already played at clubs including The Copa, Klub Max, and the Assoon brothers’ Gotham on Bloor. Siobhan O’Flynn suggested him to Craig, and soon Perkins would play not only Empire’s packed Wednesdays, but also take over O’Flynn’s hard-edged Tuesdays when she returned to school.

From 1990 until Empire’s close, Perkins played rock ranging from Donovan’s “Barabajagel,” Ten Years After’s “I’d Love to Change the World,” and The Doors’ “Peace Frog” to Soundgarden’s “Hands All Over” and Jane’s Addiction’s “Stop,” plus some reggae, house, and more on various nights of the week.

Video: Courtesy of Empire regular Tim Barraball

“The music at Empire was fantastic—especially Derek Perkins,” enthuses Michelle Fabry, a coat-check girl and later bar server who worked at the club for a year. She was 19 at the time.

“All us bar girls would try to get our bar covered and sneak to the dancefloor when a favourite song came on. I remember spending so much time dancing in my own little world.”

She was not as big a fan of the weekend nights.

“The crowds on the weekend tended to be suburban and more rowdy than the downtown crowd that frequented the place during the week,” Fabry says. “Everybody was so chill and relaxed during the week. It felt like a meeting place, comfortable and fun. Many of us would go to Chez Cappuccino after, especially if people had done acid or mushrooms.

“Weekends featured more of a suburban clientele, with more townies and people in-the-know on weeknights,” agrees Craig, who sometimes DJed Saturdays, spinning early house and electro, like “Set It Off,” “House Nation,” “Can You Feel It,” and Lil Louis’ “French Kiss.”

“The overall vibe was fashion without pretense,” he adds. “Empire had the biggest names in entertainment just hanging out, with no entourage, no VIP area, and they paid for their own drinks. [People like] Bruce Willis, Duran Duran, and The Cult would stop by and hang out whenever they were in Toronto.”

“I remember many local music artists, such as BTK, Sloan, and Tea Party, hanging out there,” adds Perkins. “There were lots of CFNY peeps, and staff from other clubs of course.”

Perkins remains particularly fond of his Wednesday regulars.

“The hippie kids that came to Psychedelic Wednesdays really walked the walk—and I mean barefoot! I guess they never saw what the floor looked like with the lights on. Or maybe they were just too stoned to care.”

Empire’s Friday nights tended to bridge crowds, especially with the Manchester music theme that was initially brought to life by CFNY’s Scot Turner, and expanded upon by DJ Iain who took over the night in 1991.

Manchester Madness Fridays flyer courtesy of Iain McPherson.

McPherson came to Empire with much experience, having entertained with tight blends of alternative and electronic music at clubs including Nuts & Bolts, The Copa, and Lizard Lounge, which had shut down suddenly.

His audience—and Empire’s—expanded after friend James Kekanovich came on board to help promote Fridays. A Sam The Record Man staffer, Kekanovich would place promo flyers in the CD sections of artists McPherson played, like New Order, Inspiral Carpets, The Farm, Happy Mondays, LFO, Nightmares on Wax, Love and Rockets, and The Chameleons, and diligently handed them out at related concerts.

“We took the attendance on Fridays from approximately 100 people to around 400 within a few months,” states Kekanovich. “The success was based on Iain’s music, and both of us making the time to speak with people who supported what we were doing. Those people became regulars who followed us to other clubs later.”

Some of them also came to Sex on Sundays, a night carried over from Lizard Lounge that found McPherson blending a self-described “typically fucked-up collection of everything from White Zombie and Ministry to Achtung Baby-era U2, electronica like Underworld, Orbital and Prodigy, plus smatterings of festive anomalies thrown in for fun.”

McPherson is keenly aware that he and Kekanovich came on board at Empire during the second half of its lifespan, by which point numbers had dropped and stress ran higher.

“While, at the time, it felt that there was always a simmering pressure to deliver crowds, upon reflection I realize that the owners were surprisingly open to giving unusual formats a chance. It was also a relatively large venue for ‘alternative’ formats at that time, and while Empire was a relatively dark venue, it felt like the club was kept in fairly good repair—at least the DJ booth and gear.

“Being a gear-geek, I loved that, at one point, the layout changed and the DJ booth was moved so that the amp racks were placed right inside the front door, and rose to nearly 10 to 12 feet high. They were the first things you saw when you walked in, and became a signature element of the decor.”

“The bass bins in the centre of the dancefloor made the walls shake,” adds Kekanovich.

Caitlin Webster (left) and Michelle Fabry. Photo courtesy of Fabry.

Who else played/worked there: Empire Dancebar’s staff tended to be young and bold. Sixteen-year-old punk musician Caitlin Webster greeted customers at the door; 15-year-old high school student Eloisa Negrinni was a main barback, and other bartenders and waitresses who contributed to Empire’s adventurous feel included Angie Coda, Tom Scott, and Erin O’Conner.

“The most special thing about the Empire was the team of people who came together to help make it happen,” says Craig. “The core staff was like the cast of a classic film. Jennifer Johnson wowed with her style and creativity, Eloisa was the most fun, and Caitlin was the coolest.

Johnson is mentioned repeatedly.

Empire bartender Jennifer Johnson. Photo courtesy of her.

“Jen totally stood out,” recaps Fabry. “She worked the main bar, and drew everyone in with her charisma and beauty. I thought she was the coolest girl on the scene—sexy, an awesome dancer, and always with a smile.

“Eloisa was like the hippie flower child dancing to Jane’s Addiction, Caitlin was the sweet little street-smart girl, Margaret was the always-smiling busgirl, while Angie was the sexy, leggy waitress. I was the skinny beer bargirl, with long hair, dyed bright red. We were all so different looking, a real mixed bag.”

“Dave Craig had an amazing eye for the unusual,” offers Johnson. “For example, we were primarily a ‘dance club,’ but our door girl, Caitlin Webster, was beautiful and wee, with the biggest mohawk you ever saw and a big-ass chain hanging from her nose to her ear. I imagine many customers were shocked by her look when they came for the first time, but that was part of Dave’s vision—to shock, turn things upside down, and make you think. It was like a circus wonderland where you never knew what was on the menu that evening.

“The staff would dress in costumes for the themes of the nights,” Johnson continues. “One night, we hung a swing from the ceiling, and I remember being dressed as Alice in Wonderland, sailing over a crowd of hundreds of people dancing to house music. It was magical.” (Johnson left Empire in 1991, and went on to bartend at Bovine Sex Club for 13 years. She is now a professional costume designer.)

Empire’s rooftop was apparently also magical, and held quite the allure.

“I remember a couple who had traveled for hours to come to Empire, but didn’t have ID and couldn’t get in,” describes Craig. “They climbed up on the roof, which was quite a task, and entered the dancefloor through the ceiling.”

Perkins has a very clear recollection from his adventure of climbing the clock tower: “More bird shit I have not seen to this day!”

“The coat check room was under the clock, and there was a secret entrance to the stairway,” Fabry explains. “Once, I climbed up to the clock with Caitlin; it was dark, rickety, and exciting. We could see up and down Yonge.” (Fabry later left Empire for the excitement of a trade desk at Merrill Lynch, and now works in Vancouver’s world of finance.)

Jennifer Johnson (left) and Michelle Fabry (centre) with a fellow Empire staffer. Photo courtesy of Fabry.

Many of the people I spoke with remarked upon the building’s own history.

“I’m not a superstitious person, but there was chatter amongst the staff that they would see and hear things before the club opened or afterwards,” shares Johnson. “To this day, I believe I felt a ghost behind my bar one night. A freezing cold hand gently touched my waist from behind; I could feel each finger and thumb on my side. When I turned around, there wasn’t anyone there, but it was freezing cold. I called out, and it went away.”

The building’s gay history was celebrated at Empire with the near-two-year-run of B-Bar Sundays, a night promoted by the ever-creative Gilles Belanger and actor/model Steph Watts (now a TV host and reporter living in New York).

B-Bar opening flyer courtesy of James ‘St. Bass’ Vandervoort.

Johnson also contributed props and other creative elements to B-Bar while James Vandervoort, a.k.a. DJ James St. Bass, was the night’s original resident. At that time, he was also the DJ behind hugely popular gay men’s nights at clubs including Boom Boom Room and Go-Go, and would soon be found at Limelight and raves including Chemistry.

“By the time of B-Bar, boys had been through many great nights at ‘straight’ clubs, and then at all the warehouses and raves as well,” reminds Vandervoort. “There were a lot of options, and an ever-changing roster of nights and events back then.”

Still, B-Bar was a success, with hundreds soaking up the disco and vocal house played by Vandervoort and, later, DJs including Dave Craig and Mark Baggio.

Vandervoort points to classic tracks like Gwen McRae’s “Keep the Fire Burning” and Juliet Roberts’ “Caught in the Middle,” but one musical moment especially stands out to him.

“I once dropped a remix of Candi Staton’s ‘Young Hearts Run Free’ that caused Gilles to practically birth a litter of kittens in the booth! He had tears of disco joy streaming down his face.”

Other Empire resident DJs included Stephen Scott, who played the special Fetish Night events, Mr. Pete, and DJ Dominik.

Last call at the Empire. Photo courtesy of Michelle Fabry.

What happened to it: By 1992, most of Empire’s original regulars had made their way to other clubs, and the venue had lost a lot of its appeal. Dave Craig left Empire in the later half of that year.

“After a very good run, I felt that it was time to move on to a new chapter,” Craig explains. “Clubs with that dark, underground, alternative look and feel would slowly go out of style. People wanted something new, so one day I just stepped away from it all, and took a year off. Empire closed approximately six months after I left.”

But not before a whole pile of rumours circulated. On Christmas Eve of 1992, Empire had been rented out for a special event. There was a disturbance inside the club, and police were called.

“When the police searched the club, apparently they came across a locked room that contained a pro photocopier and a bunch of paper with prints of currency on one side,” recalls Perkins. “I remember a newscaster saying something like ‘a nightclub owner was hoping for an extra Merry Christmas by printing his own gifts’ or something to that extent.”

“Although this story at the end of Empire’s life cycle went on to become part of its folklore, the charges were withdrawn by the crown at the preliminary hearing,” points out Dave Craig, who went on to help launch the sophisticated, but short-lived Zoo Bar on Queen West, and was a key player at Murray Ball’s hugely successful Whiskey Saigon in the club district. (Craig is now Chief Development Officer of the Marilyn Monroe Café franchise.)

“To this day, I have the upmost respect for those Empire boys,” adds Perkins. “No matter what people think they were doing in those last weeks—I truly have no idea—all I can say is that when the cops closed the doors on that fateful day before Christmas, I thought the records I had locked up there were gone for good.

“Mike unexpectedly showed up a couple of weeks later at my apartment, holding my crates of records and my last paycheque! I can’t tell you how surprised and impressed I was to see him—a stand-up guy in my books.”

Perkins went on to play at clubs including Zoo Bar and Whiskey Saigon, co-founded the popular Freakshow all-ages nights with Michael X, and eventually ran his own “Club Courtesy” after-hours on John north of Queen, and the LIFE Restaurant below. He also opened early digital-recording studio Rhythm Method. (Perkins now lives in Vancouver and works as a marketing director for a national coffee company.)

Like Perkins, Iain McPherson is fairly certain that Empire never re-opened its doors after that Christmas Eve. He and Kekanovich would go on to do nights at clubs including Limelight and Factory (later known as OZ), as well as co-produce the Nitrous raves.

They also did a brief stint at Club Time, which opened at 488 Yonge in late 1993, “but that was a pretty depressing reincarnation of the space,” says McPherson. (Both he and Kekanovich are now instructors at Durham College.)

The upper level at 488 Yonge continued to host clubs, with Time followed by The Tower. Gilles Belanger and others would open it as 488 Yonge a.k.a. Circus in 1995, with signature nights including S.T.U.D. Bar with DJ Scott Cairns on Fridays, and my own S.H.E. Saturdays.

488A Yonge is now home to rental apartments while independent retail outlets, including gear shop Metro Sound & Music, line the street below.

Thank you to participants Dave Craig, Derek Perkins, Iain McPherson, James Kekanovich, James Vandervoort, Jennifer Johnson, Mark Oliver, and Michelle Fabry as well as to Erin O’Connor, Gilles Belanger, and Tim Barraball.

The post Then & Now: Empire Dancebar appeared first on Then and Now: Toronto Nightlife History.

Article originally published July 26, 2012 by The Grid online (TheGridTO.com).

We revisit the club that brought nightlife to the deepest edge of downtown, welcomed legends like the Ramones and Beastie Boys, and transformed resident DJ Chris Sheppard into a globe-trotting superstar.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: RPM, 132 Queens Quay East

Years in operation: 1985-1995

History: Before the mid-1980s, the bottom of Jarvis Street, along Queens Quay, was not a clubbing destination. Sure, people had been known to party at Jackie’s, a nightclub space created within the Hilton Hotel at Harbour Square (now the Westin Harbour Castle), and things at Captain John’s could get rowdy on occasion, but the area was far less traveled than it is today.

In 1984, brothers Albert and Tony Assoon built on the success of their popular Richmond Street afterhours club, Twilight Zone, and opened Fresh Restaurant and Nightclub at 132 Queens Quay St. E. Here, they laid the foundations for an entertainment complex that they would not be able to fully realize. Less than two years after Fresh had opened, the Assoons no longer held claim to the business. (Albert Assoon has told me directly that they were forced out while others have stated the demand note on the Assoons’ loan was called in and could not immediately be paid in full.)

What this legal and financial tussle makes clear is that the huge converted warehouse building at 132 Queens Quay E. had already become a coveted nightclub spot. A week after its doors were chained, a crew of people largely associated with Yorkville hotspot The Copa (including Martin Arts and Neil Vosburgh), along with artist/entrepreneur Murray Ball, were the new owners.

The transformation from Fresh to RPM happened very quickly, with the latter reported to have opened its doors in late 1985.

“We went in there on a Saturday night, and ended up renaming the club, redoing everything there, and it became what it became,” says DJ/producer Terry “TK” Kelly, a Copa resident who morphed into RPM’s first star spinner.

With Murray Ball as creative director—he’d been frontman for infamous Toronto punk band The Dishes and also owned Yonge Street restaurant/live-music venue Fiesta—and Martin Arts running the business side of things, RPM quickly grew to become the talk of the town.

The club attracted a stellar team of staff, DJs, visual artists, and live-music bookers. Together, they began to build audiences that would swell well beyond the venue’s original legal capacity of 1,100. The venue may have been off the beaten path, but that made going there an adventure. A free shuttle-bus service from Union Station also made the trek a breeze while an ingenious soundsystem installed by Ted MacDonald meant that live-music lovers and fans of DJed sounds alike were treated to booming, clear sound.

“Murray, and his partner Martin Arts, were amazing club operators and innovators,” says promoter Gary Topp, who, along with Gary Cormier, booked about 70 live shows at RPM between 1985 to 1989 under the banner of The Garys.

“RPM was really the first successful warehouse-to-club transformation in this country,” underscores Topp. “There was nothing like RPM at the time. It made stars out of DJs like Chris Sheppard, and made dance music more popular than live music. No club owners have ever demonstrated so much artistry in operating a nightclub in this city. It was the place where interlocking subcultures were able to surface. It was a scene.”

RPM dancer. Photo: Toronto Star archives.

Why it was important: The story of RPM is massive, multifaceted and involves an enormous cast of characters. The club made a noticeable impact on Toronto’s nightlife soon after it opened.

“There were only a few clubs happening downtown at the time; this was way before the club district,” recalls promoter Jennstar, who was hired at RPM in the late-’80s and, over the course of five years, worked her way through jobs including ticket-taker, coat-check attendant, cigarette girl, bartender, go-go dancer, front-door hostess and more.

“The Copa, Big Bop, The Diamond [now the Phoenix], and Klub Max were really the only big clubs in town,” she says. “RPM was especially unique due to its changing décor, and the live shows that happened there on the regular.”

RPM was designed to blow minds; oversized art was everywhere. Eyes were also tripped out by loads of black light, bright psychedelic lighting, and a number of raised go-go platforms. The dancefloor was huge, as was the raised stage and DJ booth that overlooked it all. A big round bar was the social centre of the main room, and there was also an upstairs lounge area with seating and pool tables.

“[Yet] RPM really was a down and dirty, simple club, without a lot of bells and whistles,” recalls Mike Borg, who would later manage The Phoenix and co-own Gypsy Co-op. He got his start at RPM in 1987, working his way up from bartender to general manager.

“What made RPM special were the creative, unique people behind it,” says Borg. “I learned so much from that place and from Murray and Martin. Murray’s vision was ever-changing; like a gay man with a wardrobe problem, he manipulated the look of his club so dramatically every year that it kept people coming back for more.”

“Murray Ball was just filled with artistic expression,” writes Chris Sheppard by email. “As Toronto’s Kenny Baird was dressing the cool clubs in N.Y.C., like Area and Limelight, Murray was bringing that vibe to RPM. One month, the large walls were done in a Warhol motif, the next it would be white masks influenced by an acid trip in the N.W.T.”

Changing his installations frequently, Ball decorated the club with dinosaurs, dolphins, an airplane with parachuting soldiers, flashing neon signs, and much more. Mentioned repeatedly by those interviewed here are the wax figures of John F. Kennedy and Jackie O. sitting in a black convertible Cadillac that hung suspended from RPM’s ceiling, surrounded by an epic related scene.

“The ever-changing or evolving décor was a dazzling whirlwind of eye-candy—very Warholesque, very Vogue, very colourful, and very exaggerated,” says Topp. “Murray was a master of the art business; he could assemble people and their talents. He wanted every night, no matter what the event, to be a ‘happening’ of constant activity. Film, music, fashion, and the idea of celebrity drove the club. It was a very gay old time.”

Ball’s visual aesthetic was perfect for RPM as a dance club with rock ’n’ roll edge. The club featured incredibly diverse music programming, from the dramatically different themed DJ nights to the vast array of bands booked.

Staff at the Round Bar, including Gilles Belanger (second-from-right), circa 1988. Photo courtesy of Mike Borg.

Terry Kelly was already an established DJ when he took on multiple nights at RPM. Revered for his programming and mixing skills, Kelly initially held down the club’s Psychedelic Mondays, Disco Thursdays, and dance-music Saturdays.

His Mondays were legendary, attracting thousands of downtowners every week. Kelly’s crates were jammed with seven-inch singles and albums representing rock music through the decades.

“I searched out records from my childhood, and I put the music together in a dance-mix fashion,” says Kelly of his approach. “We also started incorporating new rock so it was natural to play Hendrix and then Nirvana, and it all started to melt together. People lost their minds at hearing all of this stuff blended; it was a natural progression and regression at the same time.

“One minute you’d hear The Doors, and then The Four Horsemen and AC/DC. I was all over the place, but everything I did came out like a dance mix; I was a club DJ at heart. When Andy Frost and the guys at Q-107 heard me beat-mixing rock, they freaked out. Mondays became a wild animal that I almost had no control over. Every week would blow up bigger than I thought.”

His Thursdays and Saturdays were also wildly popular. As a result, Kelly brought the house, funk, and new wave blends to Saturdays for most of RPM’s years.

DJ/producer Chris Sheppard was the second resident DJ hired at RPM. He too shaped, and was shaped by, the club.

“It was a blessing of the times to play the best venues, and RPM was surely near the top,” Sheppard says.

Brought in mere weeks after RPM’s doors had opened, Sheppard was hired away from his Sunday-night gig at The Copa, which at that point was the largest club Sheppard had DJed. The Copa, Sheppard tells me, was also where CFNY (now 102.1 the Edge) Program Director David Marsden had heard the DJ blending rock and electronic music. Marsden subsequently hired the young Shep to create a related Saturday night radio show, which became Club 102.

Sheppard came to RPM’s Sundays determined to play more underground music, and wanting to host an all-ages night. His mix of house, rave, drum ‘n’ bass and hip-hop—combined with a free buffet—was explosive.

“Liquor laws then were tricky,” Sheppard points out. “On the corporate front, they did the Sunday free dinners to get around the booze-with-food rule. I looked at it as a chance to give free food to street kids and up-and-coming so-called starving artists. Win-win. It worked out well beyond belief. If you were a teen and did not go to RPM and line up around the block, then you were just not cool. It’s as simple as that.”

The all-ages Sundays generally reached capacity well before 9 p.m. each week. Sheppard entertained those masses for years, even booking the occasional live act to up the ante.

Chris Sheppard hangs with the Beastie Boys outside Maple Leaf Gardens circa 1986. Photo courtesy of Sheppard.

“One Sunday, I surprised the kids and brought the Beastie Boys out on stage. It was just before their first album went commercial. The place went nuts.”

DJs Terry Kelly and then Matt C, with opener John Craig, would later take over on Sundays. By then, Chris Sheppard’s 19-plus Friday nights at RPM were drawing capacity crowds and making history as a live-to-air broadcast heard on CFNY. The broadcast ratings were extraordinary, as was the energy inside RPM. Sheppard and his crew—which frequently included Bob-O, Peter the Greek, and Dave Hype—played the likes of Ministry, The Cult and Nine Inch Nails alongside house, early bleep techno and other emerging rave sounds.

“At first, the music was a hybrid of all things dance,” Sheppard recalls. “It slowly became house music and all rave culture, and we left those dated rock sounds behind.

“People were very excited to be a part of the whole large-venue vibe, which was still kinda new. They would just let themselves be swept up into the sound of The Dogwhistle Soundsystem and the theatricality of the shows I would do. I would apply a certain psychic pressure, which to outsiders may be perceived as sinister. But, at the same time, the crowd knew they were in safe hands and that the effect I was giving them was benevolent. It was always a communal thing.”

Sheppard—who also brought acts like Ministry, Skinny Puppy, and Chris & Cosey to RPM’s stage—became a genuine superstar during his years at the club. His career exploded on-air, in clubs, and on television as he also headlined all of the city’s biggest raves, traveled internationally and released mixed CD series including The Techno Trip and Pirate Radio Sessions.

“RPM spawned club culture as we know it today in many ways,” Sheppard writes. “Most of today’s players came by RPM to see how it was done. The people, lights, sound, art—RPM’s vibe was second to none.”

Who else played there: Matt Casselman, who first attended RPM during Sheppard’s all-ages Sundays, would later go on to DJ that very night. A professional DJ from age 13, Matt C was versatile and played a variety of nights at RPM between 1989-1995. He also took over TK’s Disco Thursdays and transformed the weekly into discohouseinferno, with DJs including Peter, Tyrone & Shams, Dino & Terry, and Mitch Winthrop also on the roster.

“RPM was simply the best club in Toronto at the time,” says Casselman who, a decade-plus later, would go on to co-own the deeply influential Industry Nightclub.

“RPM truly helped make me famous as a DJ, and has contributed to the rest of my professional life as a realtor. It was an extremely exciting time of my life where I was embraced by a truly amazing and loyal crowd.”

RPM’s Bohemian Consulate Wednesdays. Photo: Ken Faught/Toronto Star.

RPM’s themed weeklies also included Bohemian Consulate Wednesdays, an evening where live music was the focus and a free buffet was the bonus. This alternative/indie showcase was always packed with a mix of college kids and Queen West crowds.

Long before concert promoter Elliott Lefko moved to Los Angeles to work as an executive at the prominent, Coachella-spawning Goldenvoice Concerts, he selected bands to play at RPM’s Wednesdays.

“Murray Ball called me one day about booking shows,” Lefko tells me. “I didn’t know him, but he was very charming. He offered me the gig, but first he took me to buy a pair of shoes because mine were so ratty.”

In addition to the Wednesdays, Lefko booked concerts by bands including Green on Red, 10,000 Maniacs, and Rob Tyner (of The MC5) backed by Detroit all-woman band The Vertical Pillows.

The Garys’ brought The Jesus and Mary Chain to the RPM stage in November of 1987.

“The JAMC’s Jim Reid assaulted two men at the front of the stage with a microphone stand for yelling ‘Boring,’” Topp recalls. “And then the audience surrounded and blocked the band’s tour bus.”

Other favourite bookings included Hüsker Dü, Mano Negra, Kid Creole and The Coconuts, Village People, The Gun Club, Nina Hagen, Psychic TV, Butthole Surfers, The Fleshtones, Killing Joke, and Test Department, for whom Topp recalls “scrounging scrap metal in scrap yards for their home-made, welded-together percussive instruments.”

The Ramones at RPM in 1987. Photo courtesy of GaryTopp / PHOTOSYNTHESISSTUDIO.COM

The Garys also booked in the Ramones for a three-show stint.

“Holy fuck, was that loud!” recalls Mike Borg. “’One-two-three-four,’ blow your ears off. Joey Ramone—just wow.”

Concerts, some booked on off-nights and others as part of an evening’s experience, were often captured by CityTV program The NewMusic. Thanks to their documentation—and the uploading efforts of industrious YouTubers—we can still experience RPM shows by the likes of Nine Inch Nails, Bauhaus, Branford Marsalis (as Buckshot Lefonque), Nick Cave, and the aforementioned Hüsker Dü show.

Sometimes RPM concerts by stadium-sized bands would be announced at the last minute, as was the case with Bon Jovi, Guns N’ Roses and, most famously, The Rolling Stones, who played RPM on July 19, 1994 as a warm-up for their Voodoo Lounge tour.

“When The Stones played at RPM, I was general manager and it was an amazing experience,” shares event producer Gilles Belanger. “Chef Greg Couillard made dinner for the band members and their families. I also remember seeing them playing pool with their kids, us picking up Jerry Hall in a van from her limo because its battery died at Jarvis and Lake Shore, and having to ask Dan Aykroyd to clear the bikers off of the second level.”

Belanger, who started at RPM as a waiter and bartender in January of 1986, managed the club for years. He was largely responsible for turning the cavernous space that had been Murray Ball’s adjacent installation workshop into The Warehouse.

“We opened The Warehouse to accommodate concerts that were too big for RPM and The Phoenix, but too small for CNE Coliseum,” says Belanger.

Launched in the early ’90s, The Warehouse also featured roller-skating nights, DJ residencies by the likes of Chris Sheppard (by then hosting his Pirate Radio Broadcast shows live on Energy 108) and Matt C (the roots of his Futureshock crew formed here), some of this city’s earliest large-scale raves, and a range of events for gay men produced by Belanger himself.

Between the two spaces, there was no shortage of shows, bodies or celebrity sightings.

“I couldn’t believe the people who were at RPM sometimes,” shares Terry Kelly. “Billy Idol was in one night; on another, Roger Waters and David Gilmour from Pink Floyd got in a fistfight at the bar and had to be separated.

“I remember Billy Duffy from The Cult coming up on a Monday night and saying, ‘Play “Sanctuary”—I feel like playing with myself.’ Then he jumped up on the counter beside my CD player and started doing air guitar. He was so loaded, he almost fell over the edge. It would have been a good 15-foot fall so I held onto his belt.

“Charlie Sheen was in the booth all night once. He’d just gotten out of rehab and came to Toronto because he was dating a feature dancer. She was working at The Brass Rail, and he was standing beside me in a trench coat, baseball hat, and glasses, and was just the funniest guy I ever met, like ‘Are you sure it’s okay if I stay here?’ RPM was nothing short of nuts.”

Not surprisingly, Mike Borg describes RPM as “a haven for anyone who wanted to escape from reality,” describing the crowds as wildly mixed. He recalls two customers vividly.

“I so remember the guy in the Superman shirt who used to come religiously every Monday, along with the guy who stood on the front edge of the stage and conducted the dancefloor with a little wooden stick.”

RPM security workers Champ Frangakis (left) and Pat Alleyne. Photo: John Mahler/Toronto Star.

Who else worked there: RPM was filled with professionals and professional partiers. It was a training ground for dozens of managers and artists who would go on to run and/or star at numerous other clubs across the city.

“I always felt, and still do, that I am so lucky to have been involved in something like RPM,” says Terry Kelly. “The whole thing was magic, from the way it came together to the incredible energy of all of our staff.”

Many names were mentioned, with other key players including early manager Pat Violo (who would go on to co-own both Catch 22 and Velvet Underground); assistant manager Dave Clark (now co-owner of Big Fat Burrito), and security-operations manager Champ Frangakis, who ran the door along with people including Pat Alleyne.

Artist Jamie Osborne created many of the club’s visuals and drove its shuttle bus for some time; National Velvet vocalist Maria Del Mar was an early cigarette girl; and infamous lighting man Tom Doyle created incredible effects.

Late night cash out in the RPM dressing room. Photo courtesy of Mike Borg.

“Buslords from hell” illustration by Bruce Scott, courtesy of Mike Borg.

Head go-go dancer and visual artist Marlis Vos was key, as were RPM’s busboys a.k.a. “the bus hommes.”

“The same five guys were there for years, and picked up every single bottle,” says Borg.

“The busboys were wild,” agrees Kelly. “One of the funniest things: Murray had a bunch of motorcycles hanging from the ceiling, and one night some of us were up in the back of the restaurant drinking at around 5 a.m. People were looking for Gary, a busboy.

“We found Gary, hammered out of his mind, up in the ceiling, sitting on one of the Kawasakis. I guess he’d climbed up along the ceiling’s beams, dropped down onto the motorcycle, and couldn’t get off. If anything is RPM, that is.”

What happened to it: Tellingly, no one I interviewed for this article worked at RPM to its very end, so the exact timing and reasons for its closure are a touch unclear. What is known is that Martin Arts passed away in the late ’80s, Murray Ball—who did not respond to interview requests for this article—left RPM to launch the club Whiskey Saigon in 1992, and that, when Mike Borg left to manage The Phoenix in 1991, half of RPM’s staff went with him. Neil Vosburgh and his Imago Restaurants company became RPM’s core owner/operators.

Almost a full decade after it had opened, RPM now had many competitors in the downtown core. In 1995, it was sold to Charles Khabouth, who transformed RPM and reopened it as The Guvernment in 1996. The Warehouse eventually became Kool Haus.

“To me, RPM encapsulated what a club should be,” summarizes Mike Borg, who now lives in Kelowna, B.C. where he owns a 250-seat restaurant. “It was raw and hardcore, but it created an experience for many to enter into a mystical place of art and music. I think Charles has taken the bones to a whole different level with The Guvernment, and I respect him for what he has accomplished there.”

“Charles built The Guvernment really fast and spent a lot of money,” says Terry Kelly. “When I first walked in and saw what he did with it, I swear I almost fucking cried because I thought, ‘This is what RPM always could have been—this opulent, beautiful thing.’

“But then, I realized that the beauty of RPM was that it wasn’t polished and perfect. The place was such a scrungebucket, but when the house lights went off, the club lights came on, Murray’s shit lit up, and I started to play music, that place turned into a monster. I’ve played all over the world, and I’ve never seen anything like RPM anywhere.”

Kelly—who went on to play a plethora of clubs and raves, host radio shows, record with Barry Harris as Top Kat, and release solo records on labels including John Acquaviva’s Underdog and Definitive—stepped out of the game after breaking his back in six places 10 years ago. Now based in London, Ontario, he has built a home studio and plans to reemerge.

As for Chris Sheppard, Canada’s rave pioneer and the producer behind projects including hugely popular Love Inc. claims that he has since earned three PhDs in the field of Neuroscience. He continues to buy vinyl, DJ select shows, and releases music under a pseudonym that I have not yet been able to crack. I’m told he created remixes in the past year for both Björk and Booka Shade, and may just make his presence felt in 2013.

Thank-you to all interviewed for this article, as well as Amy Hersenhoren, Greg Bottrell and Luke Dalinda.

The post Then & Now: RPM appeared first on Then and Now: Toronto Nightlife History.

Article originally published June 7, 2012 by The Grid online (TheGridTO.com).

In this edition of her nightclub-history series, Denise Benson revisits the most sexcess-ful, celeb-studded gay house club of the ‘90s.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: JOY, 16 Phipps

Years of operation: 1995-1997

History: The rapidly changing streets surrounding Toronto’s Yonge and St. Joseph intersection were once a mecca for adventurous late-night dancers. Some of the hub’s gay and after-hours history was explored in earlier Then & Now pieces about influential 1980s venues Voodoo and Club Z; now, we return during the ’90s, before the area was transformed by the massive condo development we see today.

The tiny Phipps Street is tucked in just north of Wellesley and south of St. Joseph, running east-west from St. Nicholas to Bay. In the mid-’70s, while big gay dance club The Manatee drew crowds to 11A St. Joseph, Club David’s brought gay revelers south down the alley, to 16 Phipps, where a gold rendition of Michelangelo’s David presided over the dancefloor. In the ’80s, David was out and mirrors were in as the building became new gay club Le Mystique.

Although it later housed a variety of warehouse parties, early raves and other one-off events, the building still featured some of Mystique’s décor when John Wulff and silent partners went to view 16 Phipps early in March of 1995. The former storehouse, complete with its old loading dock and a small tunnel that connected it to 11A St. Joseph (it’s thought a conveyor belt once ran between the two), was in rough shape.

Outside 16 Phipps, pre-JOY. Photo courtesy of John Wulff.

Wulff—who’d been socializing “seven days a week” in Toronto’s downtown gay scene since he was 16, and had worked for clubs including Gilles Belanger’s B-Bar—was ready to produce something of his own. He saw the 6,000 sq. ft. space as being well-suited to his vision of an after-hours dance club, located near the gay village, that would feature house music, art, and performance.

“The space was big, raw, and warehousey,” recalls Wulff. “We ripped everything out, soundproofed the walls, sprayed everything black, and installed a sound system.”

Inside of 16 Phipps, pre-JOY. Photo courtesy of John Wulff.

“Physically, JOY was a big black box,” adds DJ Scott Cairns, who would become the club’s Saturday night resident. “It was mainly dancefloor, with a raised area in the back where people could get a bird’s-eye view of what was happening below. It was dark and sexy. The lighting was minimal, with the focus being the giant disco ball in the centre of the floor.”

JOY opened its doors at 1 a.m.—then last call at licensed bars—on Friday, March 17, 1995. Although the promotion of Fridays faltered at first, JOY’s Saturdays were an immediate hit and soon regularly exceeded the legal capacity of 472 people.

“JOY quickly became the late night go-to spot,” says Cairns. “Mainly a gay event, the Saturdays were heavily attended by a wide cross-section of people: drag queens, muscle boys, dykes, models—all the usual suspects—with a gay-positive hetero element. Straight girls and their terrified boyfriends were often on hand.”

JOY dancefloor. Photo courtesy of John Wulff.

Why it was important: The timing of JOY could not have been better. As a gay-heavy, house music focussed, late-night dance club, it filled a lot of gaps. The warehouse scene had slowed, raves had grown larger and younger, and the music at Toronto gay bars had become increasingly commercial.

“JOY was completely on its own,” says Wulff. “The gay clubs, like Boots, Colby’s and The Barn, were playing Top 40 with the occasional house song while raves were playing Euro-ish fast beats. JOY was playing the newest and best underground house music, and felt like warehouse parties in Chicago or Detroit. JOY didn’t feel like Canada; it felt very New York, and people were very excited to be part of the energy.”

“JOY was very important at the time as it offered an after-hours experience that was safe and close to home for a big portion of the gay community,” adds Cairns, a 30-year DJ veteran who, by then, had wrapped up popular residencies at both The Phoenix and OZ.

“There was a definite thirst for something new in the core. I feel we provided that big time.”

“The JOY space had cachet from being a gay and alternative club over many years,” says James Vandervoort, better known as James St. Bass, a friend and frequent DJ partner of Cairns’. Vandervoort had come out while dancing in nearby ’80s clubs like Stages, Avalon, and Voodoo, and had himself brought gay clubbers west of Yonge while DJing boys’ nights at both Go-Go and Boom Boom Room.

“By the time JOY got started, it felt like coming home to gay after-hours dancing, but it was our time and our generation that was running it. JOY took the tradition of those earlier after-hours dances, but had more glamour, energy, and perhaps danger than the others that came before. It was raw, dark, sexy and, best of all, so central. JOY had the sound and feel of an illicit warehouse party, but was there every weekend—and with no chasing phone-line prompts to find it!”

Scott Cairns (left), John Wulff and Gilles Belanger. Photo courtesy of Wulff.

Cairns created much of the atmosphere with his music, often playing five full hours of the house he loved.

“Some of the best house was coming out in 1995 to ’96,” Cairns enthuses. “Big records for me at JOY included tracks from Farley & Heller a.k.a. Roach Motel, like ‘Wild Luv‘ and ‘Work 2 Doo.’ The dub of Joi Cardwell’s ‘Jump For Joi‘ was massive, as was H2O’s ‘Satisfied (Take Me Higher),’ and Robbie Tronco’s ‘Walk for Me.’ Tracks from producers like Danny Tenaglia, Roger S., MURK, Angel Moraes and Mousse T. were really big.

“And then came Boris Dlugosch and ‘Keep Pushin’,’” Cairns continues. “My friend Mitch Winthrop had just came back from visiting Boris in Germany, and arrived at JOY with a test press of this forthcoming single. I dropped it immediately and the reaction was intense. Later, in June of 1996, I had the pleasure of being joined by Boris at JOY. During his set, he dropped Giorgio Moroder’s ‘Chase.’ It’s one of my strongest memories from the club.”

LISTEN: Scott Cairns Live at JOY

The intense atmosphere of Saturdays at JOY can also be attributed to the dreams and antics of host John Wulff.

“My responsibility was to create an experience every week, and I’m proud of the events we put together,” he says.

For Halloween of 1995, Wulff performed as Carrie, complete with wig, white dress, pyrotechnics and Gilles Belanger as his Tommy Ross.

Another week, he recounts, “I rode into JOY on a motorcycle, in a star-spangled bikini, wrapped in an American flag and did Sandra Bernhardt’s strip tease from Without You I’m Nothing to [Prince's] ‘Little Red Corvette.’”

Frequently, Wulff could be found lying on a bed placed in the middle of the club on a scaffold.

“It was a mattress with gold satin sheets where whoever was feeling it would lounge or simulate sex shows,” says Wulff. “Various guests starred on that bed, from me to porn stars to beefcake male gymnasts stretching in silver sequin g-strings.”

He also recalls that JOY’s New Year’s 1996 party was perhaps the height of their (s)excess.

“We re-did the interior from black box to a glamorous ’30s speakeasy,” Wulff explains. “We installed two large chandeliers, and had an artist paint a 27-foot-long Tamara de Lempicka naked-woman portrait. We squeezed 1,200 people into that room. It was raining from the sweat and condensation—everyone was pretty much naked. I’ve never felt energy like that.”

JOY mural. Photo courtesy of John Wulff.

Wulff, in fact, starred alongside the many local and international celebs who passed through the club’s doors on weekends. Dozens of actors, models and musicians took part, ranging from Madonna and her tour dancers to Alanis Morissette, Terrence Trent D’Arby, John Goodman, Geena Davis, Montreal supermodel Ève Salvail, 90210 star Kathleen Robertson, and Heather Tom of The Young and the Restless, a soap widely adored by gay men.

But it wasn’t just Saturday nights and celebrity cameos that made JOY special. About a month after the club opened, Fridays were properly launched, with Jennstar at the helm. The promoter and hostess had already worked for years at Queens Quay nightclub RPM, was a columnist for TRIBE magazine, and was known for bringing warehouse heads, clubbers, and ravers of all sexual orientations together.

Jennstar at JOY. Photo courtesy of John Wulff.

Jennstar recruited fellow Futureshock crew members Gavin Bryan and Nnamdi Gryffyn a.k.a. DJ Gryphon, and they assembled a team that brought the Friday night concept called “Jennstar…She’ll Make You Famous” to life.

“We were inspired by fashion, fabulousness, fierceness, all the F words—including ‘famous,’” says Jennstar. “Everyone who attended JOY was fierce in their own way. This was a time when a lot of people were just starting their businesses—hair, make-up, graphic artists, performers, club-kids, you name it.”

Flyer courtesy of Jennstar

Opening night was packed, with NYC’s Frankie Knuckles on the decks and Jennstarr performing as Sunset Boulevard’s Norma Desmond. Fridays consistently bridged crowds and communities, with ace rotating resident DJs Gryphon, Jason Hodges, Matt C, Mario J, and Kenny Glasgow working their musical magic.

“I remember walking down the alley, hearing the music get louder as you’d approach, and then turning the corner to see a lineup of people trying to get in every week,” recalls Hodges of his first real residency. “It was a rush.”

Lineup outside of JOY. Photo courtesy of John Wulff.

“JOY was a place where that warehouse vibe was strong,” adds Hodges, a now-established DJ/producer. “The sound was big, and the vibe was dope. It was a solid night that drew music-driven crowds who knew what was up.”

Most of Fridays’ cast of players—from door staff to DJs and dancers—very much knew what was up. Many would form the core of Industry Nightclub, which opened about a year and a half after JOY.

One of these people was Rommel, a house-music lover who danced many weekends away at JOY, and frequently hosted Fridays’ VIP room.

“JOY was my version of Studio 54,” says Rommel. “Favourite memories include Frankie Knuckles playing an amazing set, Franklin Fuentes performing his club hit ‘If Madonna Calls,’ and, of course, our very own Jackae [Baker], with her many fabulous performances.”

John Wulff (left) and Rommel. Photo courtesy of Wulff.

“Jennstar, Rommel, and Jackae brought the glamour and the fun,” says Vandervoort. “It was decadent for sure, but also very funny. There were feature shows and drag-fashion fabulousness that got sloppier the later it got, so it never had the heavy dark feeling of some raves; it was more pure gay lasciviousness and bold fun. You could be any orientation and be welcome at JOY, but you likely had a better time if you liked to take most of your clothes off and dance like a maniac.”

This video, with original JOY footage shot by Rob Cluff in August of 1995, serves as evidence.

“At JOY we got away with a lot,” agrees Jennstar. “There were no rules really back then. Warehouse parties had died and the cops were paying attention to the raves, so we skirted under the radar for quite a bit. Just a bit, but boy was it fun. JOY was a place where you could come and hear fierce music and be who you wanted to be. It was definitely a birthplace for many events and parties that followed.

JOY was named the Best Nightclub of 1995 in Toronto Life magazine. It also helped bring deeper shades of house back to gay bars.

Wulff offers this tidbit: “Colby’s opened Voodoo Lounge one year after JOY, and copied it directly.”

Matt C (left) with Jason “Deko” Steele at JOY on Hallowe’en. Photo courtesy of John Wulff.

At JOY. Photo courtesy of John Wulff.

Who else played there: Jennstar’s Fridays featured many guest DJs, with a heavy Montreal lean. Frequent visitors included Luc Raymond, Christian Pronovost, and Alain Vinet, now Musical Director for Cirque du Soleil.

“The biggest international artists who played JOY for us were Deep Dish,” says Jennstar. “It’s kind of a funny story. Ashley from [promotions crew] Better Days called to ask if they could come and play the night before the [Better Days’] rave; the Deep Dish boys really wanted to get a feel for the city. I said sure, but had no real idea who they were, and we didn’t have money to pay them. They showed up and rocked the house.”

While Saturdays at JOY were mainly a showcase of Scott Cairns, guests like Montreal’s Mark Anthony and Sylvain Girard were sometimes found. Matt C also guested one Halloween, as caught on film above.

JOY also occasionally opened its doors on other nights for special events, including a House of Trance Wednesday series produced by Don Berns a.k.a. Dr. Trance.

JOY dancefloor. Photo courtesy of Scott Cairns.

What happened to it: JOY closed abruptly in early 1997.

“I had a falling out with my partners,” shares Wulff. “They changed the locks, and changed the name of the club to the Cubicle. Also, I was very tired and didn’t want to fight it. The fire department was all over us for capacity and sound issues, plus [then City Councillor] Kyle Rae was not a fan and wanted us closed.”

The Cubicle was short-lived. After it closed, 16 Phipps opened very briefly again under the name of JOY, though Wulff was not involved. According to him, the building was demolished roughly five years ago. In its place stands the 20-storey condo build on the south side of Eleven Residencies at 11 St. Joseph.

Wulff left the club business after JOY, moving into corporate branding and marketing. After recovering from serious health issues in 2011, however, he decided to “come out of retirement to do quarterly events,” beginning with a JOY reunion this Friday (June 8). Many of the JOY faithful will congregate in the rooms of Buddies In Bad Times Theatre (12 Alexander Street). Mark Falco DJs in the Cabaret, while Scott Cairns plays the main Chamber.

“I’ve been crafting the music for this night for months,” says an excited Cairns. “I’ve listened to probably a thousand records, trying to trim it down to the perfect set. I hope everyone has the best time, reuniting with friends and reliving the glory days of JOY.”

LISTEN: SCOTT LIVE at JOY mix 2

Jennstar, James St. Bass, Rommel and fellow JOY devotee Charles Pavia will host, while artists Drasko Bogdanovic and the Young Astronauts provide a wall of projections.

“With the reunion, it’s the old JOY mission: house music combined with artistic expression, through striking visuals, but on overdrive,” says Wulff. “I want to provide not only a good house-music party, but one that leaves you visually in awe.

“Also, Rommel will perform at 12:30 a.m., in something that I’ve described as her ‘Madonna Super Bowl Halftime Show.’ She’s accompanied by four clones of herself—you will die!

“I think that people are ready to have a different experience in nightclubbing,” summarizes Rommel. ”I would encourage attendees to put on their best boogie shoes, and to be as outrageous, if not courageous, in your club couture. JOY was especially known for that. Above all, I encourage everyone to just be you; that’s what JOY was and is all about.”

The post Then & Now: JOY appeared first on Then and Now: Toronto Nightlife History.