After almost two decades of hosting the world’s biggest DJs, alongside some of Toronto’s finest, Canada’s largest nightclub recently closed doors to make way for condo development on the waterfront. With the participation of some of The Guv’s key players, Then & Now delves deep to tell the exhaustive story of a club that mirrors – and contributed greatly to – electronic music’s evolution. Rave on.

By: DENISE BENSON

Club: The Guvernment complex, 132 Queens Quay East

Years in operation: 1996 – 2015

History: Charles Khabouth has been mentioned throughout the Then & Now series as his influence in Toronto nightlife is widely felt. Khabouth’s earliest nightclubs, Club Z on St. Joseph and Stilife on Richmond, were pioneering in very different ways. Early in 1996, he began work on a wildly ambitious project, one so successful that it would both cement Toronto’s reputation as an international clubbing destination, and anchor Khabouth’s ever-expanding business empire. But things could have turned out very differently.

In the mid ‘90s, the stretch of our waterfront near Queens Quay and Jarvis was still fairly isolated and industrial. A stone’s throw from Lake Shore Boulevard, it held factories, parking lots and stretches of open space. Condos did not dominate the landscape.

The 60,000 square foot space at 132 Queens Quay East had housed large clubs in its recent past. From 1984 to late 1985, it had been home to the Assoon brothers’ innovative Fresh Restaurant and Nightclub. For the next decade, it was the location of popular club RPM and its sister concert space, the Warehouse.

When Khabouth took over the building on January 1, 1996 he couldn’t have known that he had almost eight months of renovating ahead. But he did know that he had to compete with Toronto’s then-booming, highly concentrated Entertainment District.

“I thought, ‘How am I going to compete with 50 nightclubs side-by-side downtown?’ Khabouth tells me during an expansive interview. “Kids would go to the one area and bop around all night long. I realized I had to do a multi-room venue or I had no hope in hell. That’s why I created five venues under one roof, plus the Warehouse, which really was a warehouse.” Though the Warehouse was already well established as a concert venue, Khabouth mainly attributes this to its size (Toronto has a dearth of such venues with a capacity of two to three thousand).

“There was nothing there,” he exclaims of the space; “There were not even any bars built. Instead, there were boxes that they used to stand up and roll out, with Pepsi-Cola beer fridges. There was no running water. There were columns in the Warehouse; I spent millions of dollars just removing five columns. I rebuilt the stage. An insane amount of money went into there.”

Khabouth’s pockets were not as deep in early ‘96 so he had to spend wisely. He hired Yabu Pushelberg, who had designed Stilife’s stunning interior, and asked them to work on a tight budget. As a nod to Stilife, there was a section of ceiling-to-floor chains installed in what would become the Guv’s main room, but little else was similar.

“They didn’t go all out, in terms of spending money, because they understood the situation,” says Khabouth of the designers. “So the aesthetics were cool, but there was no marble, no granite, no silver leaf ceilings. What we did was build some beds with fun fur, some furniture with bubble gum, purple, lime green and orange vinyl. We made the room sexy, but more of a fun space.”

The Guvernment in 1996. Photo courtesy of a Then & Now reader.

The Guvernment complex opened in summer 1996, with the main room and Acid Lounge off of it, Orange Room, The Drink, and a rooftop patio. This section of the building was licensed for a total of 1600 (over time, and with multiple renovations, capacity would more than triple).

People entered through a curved area, turning around a bend before walking directly onto the dancefloor. Where RPM’s emphasis had fallen on its huge bar in the middle of the room and stage along the east wall, which had a dancefloor sectioned off of it by railings, the Guv’s main room was all about the dancefloor. Bars surrounded it.

Most impressive of all was The Guvernment’s sound and lighting.

“I had the sound system custom made [by New York’s Steve Dash of Phazon]. All of the boxes, the mixing board, everything was custom made for us. We had the identical sound system until the end.

“I had hydraulic trusses – nobody had hydraulics back then – that went up and down, with moving lights. I also got a massive laser; at the time, it was the largest laser in Canada. I wanted the sound and the lighting to wow people. I spent a lot of my money there so that when you went in, you felt ‘Whoa!’”

More than 12 million people would come to be wowed at the Guv over time, but crowds did not flock there from the start. It took a while for people to even know it existed.

“My biggest issue was that by the time I opened, I was in a lot of debt,” Khabouth admits. “That thing was like the ocean; it was never-ending. You’d rip one wall out, and it would be rotted so we’d have to rip out the floor and the ceiling. And then there would be plumbing that had rotted, and electrical issues. It was layer after layer. By the time I opened, I was completely out of money to do promotion and marketing. There was no social media back then, remember.

“We opened in the middle of summer, when The Docks [now Sound Academy] had just opened, and they had this beautiful patio on the water. Cars would stop and ask us how to get to The Docks; they didn’t know we were open or have a clue who we were. It took about three or four months of hanging on to that massive building before we were up-and-running. When you’re supposed to have a few thousand people and you have three hundred, it’s scary.”

Guvernment main room interior in 1996, from a Boost & Titan Productions promo flyer.

Guvernment main room interior in 1996, from a Boost & Titan Productions promo flyer.

Why it was important: There are myriad reasons why The Guvernment (eventually to become known simply as ‘Guvernment’) was a significant venue in Toronto and beyond. Some were evident from its start, including Khabouth’s commitment to dance and electronic music.

Khabouth hired Albert Assoon, formerly of Fresh and Twilight Zone, as Guvernment’s first musical director. Early DJs included names familiar from Stilife, like Joe Marella and JC Sunshine. Still, it was a slow build.

A Saturday night appearance by Danny Tenaglia helped change that. Sound engineer Steve Dash, also co-owner of influential New York club Sound Factory, where Tenaglia played, suggested that Guvernment book him.

“I was like ‘Who the hell is Danny?’” chuckles Khabouth. “He was very much gay focused at that time; the straight market hadn’t caught on to him yet. What happened that night was really weird.

“By that time, we were attracting maybe a thousand people weekly. Then we also had a thousand or 1500 boys show up. When Danny went on, all the shirts came off. I had some people leave, asking ‘Is this a gay club? Is this a straight club?’ It was a funny, but good experience. Danny was so able to drive the sound system – he used it to its fullest and honestly, it was hair-raising.”

As luck would have it, Khabouth had also hired a new resident DJ to launch Spin Saturdays the following week.

Mark Oliver was already well established in Toronto, having played countless warehouse parties, and clubs ranging from the gritty and groovy (Cameron House, Tazmanian Ballroom) to larger and more polished (Klub Max, Go-Go). By 1996 though, Oliver was at the centre of our rave scene, having emerged from the dark rooms of 23 Hop (318 Richmond) to play massive productions.

“I was headlining pretty much every rave in town at the time, and was playing at Buzz, which is now Comfort Zone,” says Oliver. “Charles knew he had to go big with Guvernment, and questioned me. He knew I played the raves, and was probably concerned about all the things he’d been reading about that scene. He also wanted to make sure I would be able to play some of the more commercial sounding club tracks. I assured him that I’d played Klub Max before, and that I always play the room. I don’t like to cheese out all the way, but I do understand the usefulness of a good remix.

“I think Charles was still a bit nervous, but we set a date, which was in September of 1996. Danny Tenaglia had played the week before. From that Saturday until the end, it was packed every week.”

“From the first night Mark was there, I thought ‘Wow. This guy gets it,’” credits Khabouth. “Playing a big room is difficult. The sound has to be big, and the programming is totally different. Mark has an incredible talent. He never misses, never.”

Oliver had a deep appreciation of Guvernment’s sound system. “As a DJ, you want the best sound possible, and it was a dream come true,” he enthuses. “I knew with Albert there that it was going to be something special, based on his pedigree with Twilight Zone. The sound itself was pristine. The monitors matched perfectly to the dancefloor, so whatever you heard up in the booth was what people heard below. The DJ booth was still in the spot where it was at RPM, so it was pretty high up from the dancefloor, and quite removed, which suited me perfectly.”

Guv’s original DJ booth. Photo taken December 31, 1996 by a Then & Now reader.

Though there were occasional live PAs, with performances by vocalists including Gwen McCrae and Octahvia, Oliver played Guvernment’s main room “Every Saturday, from beginning to end, for the first five years.

“It was basically a rave, but there was a dress code,” Oliver describes; “So instead of wearing fun fur, everyone wore shirts that looked like they’d just bought them to get in the club. Then they tried to get them off as soon as they could. Any time there was a shirtless dude, three bouncers would make him put his shirt back on, at least back then.”

Ravers, in fact, were a big part of what kept The Guvernment complex afloat early on. Khabouth rented the rooms to rave production companies, which met everyone’s needs at the time. This helped a scene under scrutiny continue to grow, and paid some bills while word of the Guv spread.

“Basically, the City had jumped all over the rave promoters, and essentially sent the raves indoors,” recalls Jamil Kamal, who started working security at the Guvernment in 1996, and became Khabouth’s right-hand-man in all things risk management.

“The raves were forced into club venues, and Charles had the biggest one.”

Promoters like Better Days, Destiny, Hullabaloo, Kind, Renegades and Syrous took full advantage of the club’s potential. Some people grumbled about the move from warehouses, roller rinks and borrowed spaces to legal venues, but there were advantages.

“I wasn’t against the legal venues as they had proper plumbing, exits, alcohol for sale, and proper security,” says Marcus Visionary, local DJ, producer and drum ‘n’ bass ambassador. “Some people hated the legal events, but many of us embraced them because they were safe, and they were at less risk of being shut down.

“I loved playing inside the Warehouse as it felt like an underground venue, but much more secure. One of my favourite Syrous events was held there – the five-year anniversary [in 1998] with True Playaz, featuring Hype, Pascal, Fats and GQ.”

Syrous ‘Hyped,’ 5-Year Anniversary Party, 1998. Video by Rick Toxic. 

“Our Syrous five-year was one of the first raves where the entire complex, and all the rooms in it, was filled,” recalls Rob Lisi, a Syrous co-founder.

That same year, Lisi and fellow rave entrepreneurs Steve and Wayne Mealing (a.k.a. DJs Stretch & Hooker), Aaron Micks, and Tyler Cho formed Lifeforce Industries, an umbrella organization under which their Syrous, Renegades and Dose brands lived. Between 1996 and 2001, they produced about 10 parties at the Guv and Warehouse (Warehouse became KoolHaus in 1999, following renovations).

“I liked the fact that KoolHaus was an empty shell, and you could create whatever you wanted with it,” says Lisi. “You could have parties there every week, and make them look totally different. The main room on the other hand was already operating as a nightclub. The design and décor were impressive, and the sound system and DJ booth were second to none at that time.

“For the more established promoters, the Guvernment complex was the only game in town. Until we started producing events with 10 to 15 thousand people, and growing into venues like CNE and The International Centre, there weren’t a lot of large, legal venue options in the city. The Guverment’s location meant it was far enough from residential neighbourhoods that you wouldn’t get 20 sound complaints in a night. The capacity of the whole complex was also attractive to promoters because you could accommodate 5000 people, with the potential to program different genres of music in each room.”

The multiple rooms and distinct experiences they offered was always one of the venue’s biggest draws. Khabouth understood how to maximize these differences to create a unique whole.

“I had worked security at clubs like Joker and Big Bop, both of which had multiple floors and DJs, but it was always the same demographic moving from floor to floor,” describes Kamal. “What I really appreciated about Guvernment in its beginning was that you had this incredible complex that catered to completely different crowds.

“Other than the Acid Lounge, every room had its own DJ booth, entry, washrooms, coat check and identity. It wasn’t just ‘The hip-hop room of the Guvernment.’ People would say ‘I’m here for the Orange Room.’ There were people who went to The Drink for years, and never ventured elsewhere. They drove in from the suburbs, went up to The Drink in their dress pants and shirt, and never went downstairs.”

The Orange Room. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

The Drink was Guvernment’s VIP space. In the RPM days, the room had been where people went to play pool and gaze out at the lake. Khabouth boarded up the windows, courted light controversy by putting in fish tanks for tables and lining one wall with a shelf of dildos, and hired smart, attractive people to decide who got in.

Zark Fatah, now partner in Capture Group, was one of those people. He had worked at RPM as a go-go dancer, got hired as an early Guvernment bartender, and promoted various rooms at the club before heading to Miami for a stretch. When he came back in 1999, Fatah worked door at The Drink.

“My thing was bringing in the more fashion forward, mature demographic,” Fatah says. “To get in to The Drink was not easy; you had to look a certain part, and cover charge was higher. The Drink was that next level of clubbing.” “

The Drink catered to the suit-and-tie, cigar-smoking crowd,” summarizes Oliver. “The Leafs used to come after their games. Mats Sundin used to hang out there. It was the hot spot. Although you could walk back and forth, that crowd stuck to The Drink and the ravers stuck to the main room.”

Friday nights at The Guvernment also attracted a variety of people to the different rooms. The crowd was largely gay for well over a year, with DJs including Cory Activate, James St. Bass and Matt C playing alongside out-of-town guests. Guv was known to be very gay friendly, with Boy’s Life events, Prism parties, and other special events in the overall programming mix.

DJ Clymaxxx at Global Fridays, 1999. Photo courtesy of him.

Early in 1998, Global Fridays launched as a new weekly. DJ Clymaxxx, known for his signature three-turntable sets (the xxx represents three turntables) and for packing The Joker nightclub for two years’ of Fridays, became a Guv main room resident. DJs Kid C, Dave Campbell and Baby Yu (now official tour DJ for Young Jeezy) joined him, while G-Money played in The Drink, Toney Williams MCed, and people like Neil Forester (now owner of the Substance Group) hosted.

“We called it ‘Global Fridays’ because we wanted to cater to everyone,” explains DJ Clymaxxx. “It was Latin upstairs in The Drink, classic tracks in the Acid Lounge, and a different music format in each room. The main room was straight urban, with R&B, hip-hop, dancehall, and even some soca.

“Urban music was starting to blow up in the mainstream again, but back then you could only really listen to R&B and hip-hop at much smaller venues. A lot of club owners worried about touching an urban night, but then, Charles was never typical. He took a chance on bringing the format into the main room for a weekly. In the process, he captured a massive audience that wanted to experience an urban party in a world-class club environment.”

From 1998 to 2004, Global Fridays packed the Guv, with a range of big-name guests, like Funkmaster Flex, Cipha Sounds, DJ Clue, and DJ Who Kid adding to the vibes. Clymaxxx got crowds pumping to the sounds of anthems like Mobb Deep’s “Shook Ones Pt. II;” M.O.P. featuring Busta Rhymes’ “Ante Up”;” Notorious B.I.G. “One More Chance;” Jay-Z “I Just Wanna Love U,” and 112’s “Only You.”

“The Friday night crowd was extremely passionate about music,” says the DJ. “Thousands would jump up and down, chanting lyrics in unison, and go absolutely nuts. I could literally feel the room shake. That’s another thing that was so different about Charles: where other club owners would tell me to calm it down because the crowd was getting too fired up, he relished the crowd reaction. He would routinely walk into the DJ booth during prime time, inspect the absolute pandemonium going on below, then tell me to kick it up a notch and make it crazier.”

DJ Clymaxxx (left) with Charles Khabouth in 1999. Photo courtesy of DJ Clymaxxx.

“The Guvernment was a spectacle every night, and Charles made it that way,” confirms Kamal. “It was a testament to his vision. People will ask ‘Can you learn what Charles does?’ Operationally, sure, but you can’t learn what he’s created. There’s no book that can teach you that. He can look at a room and turn it into something special.”

Khabouth’s genuine love of dance music fed into that vision. The success of many full-facility raves only added to his belief that electronic music should figure prominently in the Guv’s programming.

“I saw where the music was going, and where the kids were going,” says Khabouth. ”The music was great. My biggest thing in life is that I like to do what I enjoy, and I loved this.

“I used to have a baseball cap I’d keep in the back, and when I put it on, the staff would know I was going to dance. I’d go in the middle of the floor, and dance. I wasn’t thinking ‘How much money did I make tonight?’ I was thinking ‘This is awesome!’ Of course I want to make money, but I was driven by the music, the energy, the kids that got all dressed up to come out, the costumes. It was an era when people came out and had an incredible time.”

In some ways, it’s both impressive and amazing that a venue the size of Guvernment remained committed to an electronic music format on Saturdays for its entire history. There was a period in the very early 2000s when Toronto’s rave scene fractured, the audience for the music shrunk, and the parties moved into more intimate club settings. Guvernment also had to compete for crowds and talent with newer clubs like System Soundbar and Turbo. The guaranteed big room draws weren’t as plentiful then as they would become less than 10 years later, as EDM became all the rage in America.

“It was risky [to focus on electronic music] then, in every way,” says Khabouth. “We had cops harass us; the music wasn’t very commercial, radio wasn’t playing it. Even though we did big numbers sometimes, it was still very much an underground scene. We took a lot of chances.”

DJ Mark Oliver at Guvernment circa 2007. Photo by André M Photography.

Spin Saturdays remained popular, with Mark Oliver at the musical helm. His vantage point allowed him to see a lot more than the crowds; Oliver also observed as touring DJs came to expect the spotlight.

“The first five years, it was just me playing all night, and then we started bringing in more guests, especially after Industry closed,” Oliver recalls. “I remember that some of the guests, instead of having the gooseneck lamps pointed down at the turntables to see the record grooves, they turned them up towards themselves and put them on full blast. They wanted everyone to see them. It soon became evident that a lot of these DJs wanted to be down on the stage, so [in 2007] the room was renovated significantly.

“The original stage, along the east wall, became bottle service – that whole thing was coming into play so they needed to create booths and tables – and the stage itself was moved right into the middle. The DJ booth was put on hydraulics so you could lower it right down. That way the superstar DJs could be front and centre, and when there were concerts, the booth could be lowered underneath the stage.”

Early guests included a number of British DJs, like Carl Cox and Paul Oakenfold, who had played huge Toronto raves as well as at Industry nightclub, but weren’t yet household names across North America. Guvernment was impressive to them.

Paul Oakenfold in Guvernment DJ booth circa 2004. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

“For the first few years that guests were coming in, guys like Sasha and John Digweed would say ‘This is the best club in the world.’ It had that reputation,” says Oliver.

“A lot of times, they would tour through the States and play Toronto before going back to Europe. This was before the EDM explosion so they were playing all kinds of weird venues in the U.S., like country bars and stuff. Then they’d come in to Guvernment and be blown away. Some were shocked, like ‘This is better than Ibiza!’”

Oliver missed less than 10 Saturdays during Spin’s long run (“Firstly, I have four kids so I wasn’t going to travel all that much. Also, touring DJs would say to me ‘Why would you go anywhere else?’”). His perspective as an 18-year resident at the largest club in Canada meant he was not only witness to trends in big room club music, but also to changes in DJ styles and skills.

“We started off with Danny Tenaglia, Junior Vasquez, David Morales, and guys who’d been spinning for years,” explains Oliver. “They were true DJs. Then it seemed that anyone who put out a track was a DJ, and many just weren’t. They were producers, and they’d come in and try to DJ, but it would fall apart. A lot of the crowd became less discerning.”

Over time, and with a lot of EDM producers’ reliance on concert-like production values to enhance the impact of their massive beats and dramatic bass drops, crowds also came to expect a show rather than a steady flow of sound through the night.

“For a lot of the younger crowd, it can be more about ‘What’s this DJ going to do visually to turn me on?’ rather than sonically,” offers Oliver. “Some people would look at me and say I was boring because I wasn’t raising my hands and striking poses. But I’m actually working, putting a set together on the fly. Guys like John Digweed, it’s the same thing. His head is down most of the time, focused on what he’s doing. Others would come in with sets all pre-programmed on Traktor or Serato; they were all about the interaction with the crowd. It seems to be split these days; half the crowd is into that while the other half is deeper into the music. I just stuck to my guns and played what I play.”

Digweed DJing Guv main room at Labour of Love in 2005. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

Steve Aoki with Bloody Beetroots. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

Afrojack at Labour of Love 2010. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

No matter where one stands in relation to this divide, or your personal tastes in electronic music, there simply is no denying that both Guvernment and INK Entertainment, the company Khabouth founded as an umbrella organization for his multitude of clubs and lifestyle projects, book the biggest name in the biz. Avicii, Armin van Buuren, Afrojack, Tiësto, David Guetta, Hardwell, Steve Angello, Above and Beyond, Deadmau5, and so many more of today’s top tier touring DJs have played the Guv, many of them multiple times, including early in their careers.

“People say it’s because we throw a lot of money at talent,” says Khabouth of INK’s access to agents and bookings. “I think we pay less than most people do. We’ve been there since day one, and there’s a certain commitment from the managers, the DJs – that ‘Hey, these guys were booking us when we were 500 bucks.’

“If another player comes to town tomorrow, who doesn’t have the relationships, but they had a hundred million dollars, they couldn’t book the same talent. Why? Because we have those relationships, those partnerships, friendships, and understandings. With us, they know the production will be quality, and that we’re going to fill the room. Then you’re building somebody’s name and career.”

INK and the Guvernment have also remained leaders in the electronic music industry through sheer size and volume, with ownership of club venues past and present including This Is London, Cube, Uniun, and Dragonfly in Niagara Falls, not to mention festivals such as VELD. Khabouth also gives credit to INK’s Music Director, Talal Farisi.

“Talal has been with us for 13 or 14 years, and he definitely has his finger on the pulse. He’s 24-7. He’s got a good ear for finding talent, finding who is up-and-coming, and for building incredible DJ lineups.”

In turn, people such as Zark Fatah, who now co-owns clubs such as Maison Mercer, credits Khabouth. “Guvernment put Toronto on the map globally,” Fatah states. “What Charles did was provide an amazing platform for some of the best DJs in the world to come and play our city. In North America, we are one of the few cities that sees the talent that we get.”

There is no question that the Guvernment’s bookings are a big part of what earned the club its international reputation as a place to play, for DJs and clubbers alike. Guvernment regularly ranked well in DJ Mag’s annual Top 100 Clubs lists, reaching as high as #8 in 2008. The club’s design, constant refreshing, and Khabouth’s well-established attention to details also played a big part.

Chroma (formerly the Orange Room). Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

“I’ve traveled to Ibiza and all the big club destinations around the world, and I still find Guvernment to be impressive,” says Fatah, also an avid photographer and prone to observing minutiae himself. “It was unique, with so many offerings. Design and details were always very important to Charles, and he definitely had the creative vision to push the envelope, and do what he thought would be cool.

“He didn’t have to brand five different rooms, but he did. And then he would renovate and reinterpret each room every few years. A lot of club owners get complacent, and don’t change anything until it gets to be necessary. Charles has always been very progressive in his thinking.”

“I would simply describe the space as world class,” agrees DJ Clymaxxx. “There really was nothing comparable in the city. I’ll always remember the look of awe on people’s faces when they walked into the main room for the first time. I saw that reaction a lot over the years; it was the same reaction I had. Because of Charles’ continued reinvestment in the venue, the club always felt fresh.

“There was a certain ‘it factor’ about Guv – something that just made it feel totally different from any other club in the country,” adds Clymaxxx. “If you ever found yourself in the middle of a packed dancefloor there at 2:30am, blinded by the lights, and with the speakers pounding, you probably know what I’m talking about.”

Who else played there: Although this article largely focuses on the Guv as a significant home for DJs and electronic music culture, it must be said that the complex hosted bands, productions, and music of all types.

Hundreds of artists played on the Guvernment stage, such as Daft Punk, Brand New Heavies, Macy Gray, Jungle Brothers and Le Tigre. The Warehouse and KoolHaus were host to thousands, with a tiny list including David Bowie, Prince, INXS, Bob Dylan, Sonic Youth, Coldplay, Chemical Brothers, The Knife, Portishead, Prodigy, Underworld, Lady Gaga, Justin Bieber, Kings of Leon, Chromeo, My Bloody Valentine, Broken Social Scene, Foo Fighters, Neutral Milk Hotel, The Roots, and Lykke Li.

Lykke Li at KoolHaus. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

KoolHaus also got a workout during the Guv’s many full-facility long weekend events, like Labour of Love and Decadence. The room continued to be of importance for junglists as Theory events often spilled over into the space.

Theory was a drum ‘n’ bass series that ran from 2002 to 2009. Launched by former Guvernment talent booker Jose Rodriguez, Theory was co-produced and anchored by Toronto DJs Tasc and Marcus Visionary, with Mr. Brown, Clancy Silver, Frankie Gunns, and others later coming on as co-residents. The full spectrum of dnb and jungle was represented through Theory’s seriously stacked lineups.

“At one point, Theory was the largest dnb company in the country,” says Visionary. “We booked most of the big names over the years. We had Fabio on the rooftop, Andy C and Shy FX in The Drink, Mampi Swift in the Gallery, and several massive raves in KoolHaus and the Guv main room. We also had Die and Krust play a back-to-back set in The Drink, which was very memorable. The Drink was a long, not-so-big venue that would get rammed, and the energy was always so incredible! I also can’t count how many times we had Hype, Calibre and Fabio inside the Orange Room.

“The Guv complex most definitely played a massive role in the development of dnb,” adds Visionary, who continues to DJ and produce prolifically, tours Europe regularly, and now broadcasts twice monthly on British radio station Kool London.

Marcus Visionary (left) with ShyFX at Theory. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

Theory in KoolHaus. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass.

DJ Hype in KoolHaus. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

Over the years, Theory also presented dnb giants like Grooverider, LTJ Bukem, Photek, Kenny Ken, Suv, Bryan Gee, TeeBee, Calyx, Zinc, and the Digital Soundboy crew. Jungle and drum ‘n’ bass was also well represented throughout the Guvernment’s history by Destiny’s Projek: series, Soul In Motion’s many events, and shows produced by the likes of Toronto Jungle, Sonorous, and On Point.

As mentioned earlier, Guvernment was also a favoured venue for large gay productions.

Prism party (2012). Photo by Alex ‘Billy’ Korittko.

“Revival, the closing party for Pride Weekend, was always the best gay event there,” enthuses Alex ‘Billy’ Korittko, who worked at the Guv for more than 10 years, first doing décor and then as a lighting technician.

“The late DJ Peter Rauhofer did Revival year-after-year for the thousands of men who filled the dancefloor. I will always remember the sunlight flooding in when the patio doors opened at 6am. The party never ended before 9am!”

Korittko mentions a number of other DJs he loved to work alongside, including Ferry Corsten, Paul van Dyk, Gareth Emery, Simon Patterson, Ashley Wallbridge, and Markus Schulz.

Markus Schulz at Guvernment in 2009. Video by Kotsy. See more Kotsy videos from The Guv here.

“The Guvernment set the standards for nightclubs in Toronto,” says Korittko. “No one could compete with the size of the place or the talent that was booked. International DJs called it their Canadian home, and produced tracks named after the venue, and its intersecting streets.”

That said, Toronto talent was also at the Guv’s core. Early on, when each room had its own distinct sound, DJs like George William, James K., Gio, and Dave White were residents. Dave Campbell, Iron Mike, Greg Gow, DJ Aristotle, and others bounced between rooms over the years. Countless local DJs, myself included, played at varying stages of our careers. The Guvernment was a place many aimed to play, and where some built reputations.

DJ/producer Sydney Blu falls into both camps. Known for her love of house and high energy behind the decks, Blu had played clubs like 5ive, Element, It, Mad Bar, Comfort Zone, and System Soundbar before she landed a residency at the Guvernment complex.

Blu started playing at Guvernment in 2002, when she proved herself to be up for long sets and tricky set-ups. Her first Guv gig was playing for the more than 10,000 people who walked by her during the seven-plus hours she mixed vinyl outside the club, as part of that year’s Labour of Love event.

“Charles called, and asked me to come play for the lineup in the parking lot,” Blu recalls. “They put a DJ booth with turntables outside, and I played for every single person who walked into the club.”

By 2005, Blu had played a variety of Guvernment events, as well as at other INK-owned venues. She had a successful Saturday weekly at Film Lounge when she was asked to be a Guv resident at Gallery, a new room set to open.

“I knew Addy, Deko-ze and Nathan Barato were coming, and thought it would be amazing for us all to be residents of the same party,” recalls Blu. “The first night Gallery was unveiled was Halloween 2005, with Steve Lawler. The walls were red velvet, with a giant gazelle head hung over the DJ booth. That gazelle was the Gallery’s signature mascot.”

Sydney Blu in the Gallery. Photo by Sasha Niveole, courtesy of Sydney Blu.

Original flyer for Gallery. Courtesy of Sydney Blu.

Deko-ze in Gallery, 2008. Photo by André M Photography.

From 2005 to 2008, Gallery was a major draw on Saturdays for clubbers into house and techno. Along with Blu and the core crew, Toronto DJs including Simon Jain, Carlo Lio, Evan G, JayForce, Joee Cons , Ovi M, and Tim Patrick tore the room up. Activate was a core promoter of the room, helping to bring in touring DJs such as Donald Glaude, Anthony Attalla, Heidi, Jesse Rose, Paco Osuna, and others.

“It was a dark, hard, afterhours sound,” says Blu of Gallery Saturdays. She lists Mark Knight’s “The Reason;” DJ Chus’ “That Feeling;” DJ Exacta’s “Flippin;” Noir’s “My MTV,” and her own “Give it Up for Me” on Mau5trap as personal anthems of the time and space.

“The crowd was hardcore, I’m not gonna lie. Bottle service did not work in that room; those people had one goal, and that was to dance like no one’s watching! The room’s energy was really electric. The DJ booth was completely level with the crowd so everyone was equal, and everyone was there to unite, and go nuts to the music.”

Similarly, local duo Manzone & Strong established themselves through a tough, tight techno and house hybrid sound that made Guvernment crowds go mad. Joe Manzone and Fab Strong started as residents in The Drink in 2002, played the infamous Skybar sunrise sets, alongside DJs including Dubfire, Benny Benassi and Steve Lawler, and ruled the Gallery on Saturdays during the late 2000s. In 2010, the versatile duo became main room co-residents, with Mark Oliver.

“We have opened up for almost every big name international DJ, and we’ve played a different set every time,” write the duo of their collective approach to mixing. “Nothing is ever pre-programmed or planned. We are very good at reading crowds, and adapt quickly as the energy and vibe changes. Ultimately, it’s always house music.”

Joe Manzone and Fab Strong with Mark Oliver in 2002 and 2015. Courtesy of Manzone & Strong.

Manzone & Strong (middle) with Deep Dish. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

Manzone & Strong appear at a variety of INK venues, but the Guv was especially close to their hearts, partly because of the talent booked. I asked them to talk favourites.

“Danny Tenaglia has always been an inspiration to us, both as a DJ and a talented producer. Known for his legendary marathon sets and quirky stage antics, he’s one of the very few who will bring a smile to your face while you dance to his beats. Deep Dish are giants. It’s amazing to watch them fuse different genres together while adding their own twists into the mix. John Digweed is another legend, and one of the nicest guys in the business. He’s a true gentleman and one of the smoothest mixers you’ll ever hear. His sets are always so advanced.”

One of the things about Guvernment was that you never knew who might show up. Prince was spotted many times. Harrison Ford took in a KoolHaus concert. Numerous Raptors’ players were said to be regulars.

“I used to love playing Skybar, on the rooftop,” says Oliver; “We did fashion events on Thursdays, with full-on fashion shows and a proper runway. One night I was playing, and Jamiroquai got up on the runway and started moonwalking in these gold Adidas trainers. It was completely unexpected.

“Another night, Mick Jagger had his 60^th birthday in Tanja, next to the Orange Room. The Stones were all there with their families. A lot of them came up into the DJ booth to hang out, and get up to some mischief.”

“Guvernment was always the highest standard of club in Toronto,” says Blu, who left the city for Miami in 2010 and now lives and works in Los Angeles. “Guvernment was an unstoppable force; there was nothing like it, and people knew about it all over the world.”

On the Skybar patio, circa 2007. Photo by André M Photography.

Who else worked there: No matter how high its production values or unique its rooms, Guvernment wouldn’t have been as successful without its teams of workers.

“I think it had a lot to do with the people Charles chose to work with,” says DJ Clymaxxx, now a star on-air mix show DJ at Toronto’s KiSS 92.5. “From management to staff, from DJs to promoters, Charles was able to identify people who shared his passion – and then let them do their job. That’s a great quality of successful leaders.”

“Charles knows what he’s doing, and has high standards,” confirms Oliver. “He attracts the best people in their fields. When you look at other clubs around town, most of the more experienced staff worked for him at some point.”

Case in point is Fatah and his Capture Group partner Ralf Madi. While Fatah worked The Drink in the late ‘90s, Madi promoted the Orange Room, main room and later produced the iDream events. The two met at Guvernment 16 years ago, and now own venues including Everleigh, Blowfish, and Maison Mercer together.

Chris Schroer and his now-husband Steve Ireson also worked together at Guvernment. Ireson – a nightclub veteran integral to venues including OZ, Go-Go, Industry and 5ive – promoted Boy’s Life and other parties at Guvernment while Schroer started as a busboy in 1998, and was later hired by Khabouth as a Creative Manager.

“It was my job to make sure the tech staff knew what was going on, that the go-go dancers were on time, that the DJs were feeling it, and the sponsors were happy,” says Schroer, who developed marketing ideas as well as concepts for décor and installations.

Former Guv Creative Manager Chris Schroer (right) with Frankie Knuckles. Photo courtesy of Schroer.

Guv lighting tech Alex ‘Billy’ Korittko (right) with his partner Jason Nardari.

Schroer, along with Jenn Woodcock, Alex Korittko and his then-new boyfriend Jason Nardari, came up with fresh thematic décor each Saturday for years. Guvernment’s longtime Technical Director Tom Doyle, early video artist Theo Buchinskas, and dance coordinator Pilar Cote also played integral roles in bringing Schroer’s installation ideas to life.

“Sometimes we would drape the entire KoolHaus in giant tank parachutes or white sheer curtains, and transform the whole space,” Schroer recalls. “We’d also come up with complete custom lighting rigs just for one night.

“Some of my favourite themes include the seven-year anniversary party when we chose ‘super hero.’ In KoolHaus, Tom installed a massive wall of par cans on stage. I worked with a comic book illustrator to create giant comic book panels about the Guvernment. Go-go dancers danced in front of video screens that projected videos of them, creating a feedback loop. In the main room, we installed a giant post-apocalyptic junk yard set, with about 20 used TVs embedded in pieces of twisted metal, with giant pipes steaming out fog. Capoeira dancers with big mohawks battled it out on stage, and Sofonda Cox did her impression of Storm from X-men. Deep Dish said it was their favourite installation at the time.

“Once we hung 300 candles from the ceiling of KoolHaus for a show with Frankie Knuckles and David Morales. Another time, I created a DJ booth out of scaffolding in the ceiling of the KoolHaus entrance that Sydney Blu played in. It was a little rickety, and Syd had to climb scaffolding in her heels, but she was a champ about it. Once, for a gay event sponsored by Benson & Hedges, we created a gold ski chalet themed stage set. I got our male go-go dancers to stage a fake porn shoot throughout the set, which was projected onto screens.”

Comic installation from Guvernment 7-year. Photo courtesy of Chris Schroer.

Schroer now co-owns Dundas West restaurant The Hogtown Cure with Ireson. Pilar Cote lives in Detroit where she DJs and makes music.

Both General Manager Peter Johns and Tech Director Doyle worked at Guvernment for its entire history, and at RPM before it. Doyle, who’s been in the biz for more than 30 years, having done lights and production for a variety of bands and worked at clubs also including The Diamond and Rock ‘n’ Roll Heaven, has an observation about Khabouth.

“The most shocking thing about Charles, compared to RPM’s management, was how much money he spent,” says Doyle. “The Guvernment’s lighting was very high end and quite advanced, compared to other venues, But I noticed over time that it didn’t matter how much lighting you have; if the music is not good, lights look like crap. Lighting enhances the music, and it should always be that way.”

Lighting techs working in a large club have a unique vantage point. While they’re matching lights, lasers and more to the music, they’re also paid to observe how crowds respond to the experience.

“Doing lighting at the Guv over the years, I have lived the evolution of EDM,” states Korittko, who echoes a point made earlier by Oliver. “Back when I started, it was all about the music and the experience. It was never about who was spinning, it was what they were spinning.

“In the last six years of EDM, clubs have had to change. To me, social media changed the purpose of clubs; they became [more like] concerts, with stage-focused lights, DJs placed front and centre, and huge video walls. It’s amazing to have been involved during this transformation and evolution of the scene. I will always remember and wish it was like when I started, but do embrace the change and future of lighting.”

Guvernment Technical Director Tom Doyle (left) with DJ Aristotle. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

Guvernment Audio Tech Tim Cromey (left) with photographer Shaya Golbabaei. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass.

Both Korittko and Doyle also make mention of Audio Tech Tim Cromey.

“Tim was Mark Oliver’s personal DJ tech,” credits Doyle. “Tim set up all the DJ rigs for artists over the last eight years. He worked his ass off.”

As for Khabouth, he is quick to praise Jamil Kamal and his security team.

“Handling thousands of people who’ve been partying and drinking, and partying again can be a nightmare. For me, music was my number one focal, but security was right up there. Jamil has played a huge role. He’s shaped and secured a big part of what we do.”

Kamal is very aware of security’s heightened significance at a venue the size of Guvernment, and of the public’s mixed sentiments.

“Security is a hard job that’s not very appreciated,” Kamal acknowledges. “There were a lot of people who were very critical, especially of our search policy.

“We always had a lot of people, and wanted to get them in quickly and safely. The searching became a problem when people got more sophisticated in how they hid their drugs, which was also the time when GHB exploded in Toronto. The girls were taught to go behind the waistband of pants, and shake the legs if people were wearing baggy jeans, and to go into the bras. People complained because it became a much more invasive search, but we did it for people’s safety, not because the staff was ignorant or getting off on it.”

Now Director of Risk Management for all of INK’s properties, festivals and events, Kamal started at Guvernment very close to its beginning, and is quick to mention other door staff who worked at the club for most of its history, including Roy, Omar, Young-Ho (who opened his own martial arts training studio), and security manager James Hwang.

INK’s Director of Risk Management Jamil Kamal (left) with Charles Khabouth (centre) and longtime security staffer Roy (right). Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass.

“Most of the staff was there for quite some time – we figured an average of eight years – so it was very family like,” says Khabouth. “There were 250 to 300 people working every weekend. The Guvernment and KoolHaus employed 275 people. The last night we were there, we had 46 people doing coat check. There were 83 security staff. We had 42 bars. It was an army.”

Many of the people interviewed mentioned family-like connections. For some, the Guv literally led to family.

“I met my wife there when she was working cash part-time,” says Kamal. “Now we have three children. One son learned to ride his bike in KoolHaus.”

“Guvernment has been part of so many people’s lives for so long,” says Oliver. “There are people who went there pretty much every week for a decade or more. People have met, and then later gotten engaged there. Whole generations grew up at the Guvernment.”

“The Guvernment nightclub had people who went every week like it was church,” emphasizes Syndey Blu, who has toured the globe since leaving Toronto, and now has numerous projects on the go, including her debut artist album to be released on Dutch label Black Hole Recordings this spring. She returned to play twice at Guvernment in the last year, including a jammed Gallery reunion in January.

“I have lived all over North America now, and I still have never seen a venue as big, or with as many rooms, as Guvernment. It was an adult mega complex, a playground with the best music this city has heard.”

At Labour of Love, 2009. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

What happened to it: Unlike many nightclubs, Guvernment did not close due to lack of business. When it was made public almost a year ago that the 2.8-acre piece of property the complex sat on had been sold to a developer, there was shock. The club was packed every weekend, its influence still widely felt.

“The Guvernment set the bar in terms of sound, lighting and design in Canada,” states Rob Lisi, who went on to co-own Turbo nightclub, and created Benson & Hedges Goldclub series, which toured top international DJs across the country. After seven years spent working in Switzerland, he recently returned to Toronto to join INK Entertainment as Director of Marketing.

“Guvernment was the largest indoor nightclub, and the most successful nightclub in Canada, bar none. Guvernment was a must-play venue for the biggest DJs in the industry, while also giving local acts a stage to play on. It played a major role in supporting electronic music, and never changed direction on Saturday nights. It just evolved with the music, which is pretty remarkable. Many may scrutinize, but few can accomplish what the Guvernment was able to achieve.”

Unfortunately, Charles Khabouth was unable to buy the property. He did manage to get a year’s extension on his lease. INK went all out in booking many months of special events and top draws. The club’s closing weeks included names like Deep Dish, Danny Tenaglia, DVBBS, and Zeds Dead. The final weekend (January 23 to 25) featured Armin van Buuren, Knife Party, and Deadmau5 in the Guv’s main room, along with Manzone & Strong and Mark Oliver (KoolHaus closed out January 31 with a pre-Carnival performance by soca act Kes the Band).

Oliver, deservedly, got to play the final set inside Guvernment on January 25^th, partly due to the insistence of Joel Zimmerman a.k.a. Deadmau5.

“I remember the first time he came to the club; he wasn’t Deadmau5, he was Joel, and was keen,” says an appreciative Oliver. “He still is. Joel has a lot of respect for Guvernment, and for me.

“Closing night felt like a dream, mainly due to the amount of love and emotion in the club.“

Deadmau5 on closing night. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

Mark Oliver with his new gold-plated decks on closing night. Photo by Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

That night, before the Deadmau5 set began, Zimmerman and members of the Toronto Rave Community presented Oliver with gifts purchased as the result of a crowdfunding campaign: a framed gold record and pair of limited edition, gold-plated Technics 1200 turntables.

Oliver played on the decks that very night (“They won’t be sitting in a trophy case. I’ll be playing on them forever.”), as he rounded out the eve with an all-vinyl set, which kicked off with classic crowd favourites including “Give Me Love” by Alcatraz, and the Tim Deluxe mash of Layo and Bushwacka’s “Love Story,” featuring Julie McKnight’s poignant vocals from “Finally.”

“At 7am, the place was still packed,” describes Oliver; “It didn’t look like a single person had left the entire night.”

Oliver rounded out the final set with “A percussive techno version of “The End” by The Doors,” and a white label 12-inch that incorporates the melody from “Con te Partirò” by Andrea Bocelli. First though, Oliver’s son Declan sang the operatic pop song, translating to ‘time to say goodbye,’ a cappella.

“There were about 1700 people in the room when Mark’s son started to sing,” recalls Khabouth. “The room went fucking silent. 1700 clubbers silent at 7:15am. People were taken by it. They wanted to be there until the end. That was really touching.”

Khabouth then brought things to a close, playing the 15-minute Patrick Cowley mix of Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love.”

Closing night video by Alex ‘Billy’ Korittko.

“Closing night was one of the most emotional days of my life,” says lighting tech Korittko; “It was like losing a family member. It was the first time I went down to the floor and danced in the middle with people who were customers, and had became close friends over the years. Toronto, North America and even the world have lost one of our best venues.”

Demolition of the Guvernment complex began in February, with much of the building now reduced to rubble. In its place will eventually stand a massive new waterfront development, with a mix of condos and office towers.

Demolition of the Guvernment complex, February 2015. Photo by Alex ‘Billy’ Korittko.

Demolition of KoolHaus in progress. Photo by Kurtis Hooper.

(Kurtis Hooper has documented the tear down and demolition in detail. Visit here for more photos.)

Oliver has accepted the change, and puts the events in perspective.

“It’s nice to have had a beginning and an end, much like the sets we weave,” says the DJ. “It’s like the rave scene; I saw it grow from a very small number of people to 15,000, and now VELD [INK’s signature electronic music festival] has 60,000-plus people. To have been there from ground zero is quite special.

“I think it came full circle,” Oliver observes; “We were at the peak of the rave days when The Guvernment opened. Now, the rave scene has evolved, and there’s a whole new generation.”

The question becomes: where will this new generation now go to soak up electronic sounds in Toronto? There’s no single answer, of course, as there are many shades of electronic dance music. Deeper takes on house and tech have steadily risen from the underground to influence pop music (think Disclosure, Keisza) and EDM (David Guetta and Steve Aoki are now also producing deep house) alike, but there are new sounds and trends emerging constantly.

The range of venues we have in Toronto reflects this. Soulful spots like Revival and the Assoon brothers’ Remix lean toward house music’s warehouse roots. Clubs like CODA, Ryze, and, to some degree, Maison Mercer are homes for the underground and emergent, particularly on the house, tech and techno fronts. Spaces including Wrongbar, The Hoxton, and Mod Club are important, but more eclectic and event driven.

These venues, and others, may see some spillover as the more musically adventurous among Guvernment’s regulars venture to new spots. But in the end, Khabouth is most likely to maintain his audiences through the booking of established electronic music DJs at a variety of INK Events and INK-owned clubs, including Uniun, Cube, and Product. INK also partnered with Live Nation to co-present both the Digital Dreams (June 27) and VELD (August 1-2) festivals this year.

There’s no doubt about it – big beats are big business, and INK has top billing.

Tune! (2007). Photo by André M Photography.

“To be honest, nobody can take the talent that Charles has been booking because Talal and INK have such a lock on so many of the best DJs in the world,” says Fatah. “I don’t think another venue is gong to be able to steal their thunder. It will just be a temporary break.”

(For those keeping track of Toronto clubs-turned-condos, Fatah also revealed that the building Maison Mercer is in has been to sold to a developer, and will eventually open as a condo hotel. Maison’s lease is up in March 2016, though Fatah does expect an extension.)

Khabouth, who is set to open his own Bisha Hotel and Residencies where Klub Max once stood, is a notoriously restless businessman so it comes as no surprise that he has some other big plans.

INK now owns Polson Pier venues including Sound Academy (formerly The Docks), Cabana and Solarium. They will close on April 1^st for extensive renovations. Before the year is out, a brand new event space will emerge there, complete with new name.

“I want to give the city a state of the art, next level of both clubbing and concert venue,” says Khabouth. “I’m focusing on design, comfort, making sure we have better air quality, the smell in the bathrooms not being there, stupid little things.

“The sound is going to be awesome. We’re doing the best we can so that from anywhere in the room, you can see the DJ or band. We’re raising the floor in the back of the space. We’re looking at where people enter, and where they go. There are bathrooms in every corner. I’m looking at everything, including service. I want people to walk out saying ‘That was a great experience.’”

I’m told we can expect great innovation, both inside the club and out. Hint: you’ll be able to take in city views all year ‘round.

Khabouth has also spoken broadly of a massive club he hopes to open before the decade is out. Though this plan appears far from firm at the moment, it calls to mind something Mark Oliver said.

“There are so many great DJs coming into town, and huge demand for club music in Toronto. In the short term, smaller clubs should thrive as there will be 3,000 people out there that aren’t going to Guvernment. I think there will also be a huge club – even bigger than Guvernment. A lot of DJs who used to play Guvernment regularly outgrew it. Look at Armin Van Buuren, Avicii or Deadmau5 – they’ve had to go and play stadiums. I think a club that could hold 10,000 people could be busy every week.”

Only time will tell, but one thing is for certain: there will always be new generations of clubbers looking for places to call their own.

Thank you to participants Alex ‘Billy’ Korittko, Charles Khabouth, Chris Schoer, DJ Clymaxxx, Jamil Kamal, Manzone & Strong, Marcus Visionary, Mark Oliver, Sydney Blu, Rob Lisi, Tom Doyle, Zark Fatah, as well as to André M Photography, Elaine Quan, Kotsy, Kurtis Hooper, and Tobias Wang of VisualBass Photography.

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

Article originally published April 18, 2013 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

Denise Benson revisits this influential Queen West resto-lounge that brought together bohos, bankers, artists and trendsetters for a menu that included good eats, DJed beats, a smorgasbord of live music, and a diverse cast of characters.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Gypsy Co-op, 817 Queen West

Years in operation: 1995–2006

History: Though perhaps now difficult to imagine, in mid-1990s Toronto, it was still unusual for bar and restaurant owners to open sizable spots on Queen Street west of Bathurst. Trinity Bellwoods Park felt far-off, while Parkdale was not the trendy destination point it is today.

Still, evening social life on Queen was slowly moving westward. Boom Boom Room had run successfully for five years, Sanctuary had brought the goths to Queen and Palmerston, Squirly’s offered cheap nosh ‘til late, and Terroni opened its original location at 720 Queen West in 1992.

A pioneering address was 817 Queen Street West, near Claremont. In the late ‘80s, Marcus and Michael O’Hara opened the über-cool Squeeze Club there. The Squeeze was a combo restaurant, bar, art space, and billiards hall that soared at first, and struggled later. When the business went up for sale, the brothers Borg scored the location.

Marcus O’Hara’s Squeeze Club pre-dated Gypsy at 817 Queen West. Photo courtesy Vintage Toronto.

Mike Borg was well known in Toronto club circles. He’d worked as a manager and promotions director at venues including RPM and the Phoenix, and had co-owned Queen West resto-lounge Left Bank with Darryl Fine (Bovine Sex Club) and Nick Di Donato (Liberty Group). Joseph Borg had owned and operated Studebakers, a rock-themed diner.

When Left Bank was sold, the brothers—along with early partners including lawyer John May and DJ/producer Gio Cristiano—set their sites on transforming 817 Queen West. They opened eclectic restaurant, lounge, and music venue Gypsy Co-op late in 1995.

“We wanted to create a place which was not the ‘fashionable’ hang out, but that had an edge, was hip, and showcased local talent without pretention—a bohemian retreat, so to speak,” explains Mike Borg.

“With getting older and leaving the fast-paced club scene, I wanted a smaller, more sophisticated venue that wasn’t all polished and overdesigned,” he adds. “Literally, most of the décor inside was bought at thrift stores, antique shops, and many remnants of the Squeeze remained [3rd Uncle contributed design elements]. The vibe had to be cool and relaxed, with as much an emphasis on music and the bar as there was on food.”

Gypsy Co-op’s entry. Photo courtesy of Izzy Shqueir.

Open six days and nights a week, Gypsy Co-op was warm, wood-lined and unique. At street level was a long rectangular room, with a ‘general store’ and restaurant in front and a lounge space in back. The sizable store section was stocked with retro candy, specialty teas, cigars, magazines, incense and more, with one’s eyes also drawn to the doll parts, album covers and various trinkets literally hanging about.

Behind this area lay an open kitchen, easily visible to those who packed the large dining room. Here, mismatched chairs were placed around tables adorned with magazine clippings lacquered onto their surfaces. The huge ‘Captain’s table’ was popular with large groups. Behind it was the heavy velvet curtain that divided resto from lounge.

The back bar and lounge area featured a functional fireplace, dim lighting, candles, flowers, board games and a pool table or two, often pushed aside to make way for dancing. A small DJ booth faced this area, while Gypsy’s long bar ran along the easterly wall. Bar stools and couches provided plenty of seating.

Gypsy Co-op’s back bar. Photo courtesy of Mike Borg.

Original art was hung around the entire space, with new work showcased monthly.

“Gypsy Co-op wasn’t predictable at all,” says Billy X, a nightclub veteran who’d bartended and promoted for clubs including Silver Crown, Paparazzi, Catch 22, The Living Room, and Klub Max before Gypsy.

“The cutlery was mismatched, the tables and chairs were put together on a dime, and the place was decorated in Mike’s own style. They also used the slate from Squeeze Club’s pool tables to build Gypsy’s bar. It was thrown together on the cheap, on some levels, and yet somehow it all fit together nicely. There was a warm feeling in there, also a real Queen Street feel, and the booze flowed nicely too.”

Upstairs was The Hooch, renovated and expanded in 1997.

“The Hooch was a small dark space, with old wood floors, a fireplace, vintage fabrics, oil paintings and a stage,” describes Mike Borg. “Originally I wanted to have an old 1920s-30s style supper club, but it ended up being our live music floor. We also did swing dance nights and booked the room out for many private functions.”

The Hooch (upstairs at Gypsy Co-op) in later years. Photo courtesy of Izzy Shqueir.

Why it was important: With its defined aesthetic, broad appeal and word of mouth promotion, Gypsy Co-op helped invigorate a neighbourhood.

“I think that Gypsy really opened up that whole western part of Queen Street,” says Billy X. “Back in the day, it seemed far west. The only other places around there were spots like The Sanctuary and Octopus Lounge. I question how quickly it would have come around for The Drake and all of those other venues if it wasn’t for the Gypsy.”

“The Gypsy was a very cool, underground, chill-out spot,” underscores Cristiano, who’d DJed at Catch 22, the Phoenix, The Joker, Velvet Underground and elsewhere. “It had a little bit of everything, and kind of reminded me of Mike a bit—bohemian, psychedelic, and funky. It was the first of its kind on Queen. I really think the Borg brothers nailed it.”

The brothers opened Gypsy Co-op at a time when lounges were popular, and restaurants had begun to hire DJs en masse. But very few venues mixed resto, lounge, DJed and live music—all while serving high-quality food.

“We put a strong emphasis on the food,” states Joseph Borg. “People could come to a cool, relaxing place, be dressed down, and still have five-star food.”

“Gypsy did really well during restaurant hours too because they offered great food at great value, in a really cool, eclectic environment,” agrees Billy X. “I remember there being a great steak dinner for $12—a bargain. It was accessible.”

Billy X (left) and Andrew Dmytrasz. Photo courtesy of Theresa Szalay.

Restaurant critics took note, and their positive reviews helped diversify Gypsy Co-op’s crowd, which included artists and CEOs alike.

“Gypsy was very much a local, with friendly, accepting people,” describes Joseph Borg. “We could have a room with 75-year-olds, families with kids, trendsetters, and people just out to party, and all seemed to be able to exist under one roof. We always maintained the community feeling.”

“It was a great date spot, and a great place to meet new people,” points out Theresa Szalay, a former bartender at OZ nightclub who played many key roles at Gypsy during the eight years she worked there.

“At the beginning, during the week, Gypsy definitely would get the ‘starving artist’ types that paid for their beer with all the loose change in all their pockets,” recalls Szalay. “As time went on and nights were promoted, the crowd was very Queen Street: artists, actors, musicians, DJs, hipsters, foodies and such. I always found that Gypsy really attracted music and DJ followers, as well as many other people in the hospitality business, because the whole funky restaurant/lounge concept was new for Toronto.

“I think people who went to Gypsy were there for the whole experience—the food, the vibe, the music, the art, the tarot card readers, the belly dancers, and also the wild staff. One waiter, named Ron, would walk on his hands to tables to take an order, and then serve a pint of beer balanced on his head. These are the reasons people spent complete nights hanging at Gypsy, and kept coming back.”

Gypsy staff Kristy Dineen (left) and Marla Silva. Photo courtesy of Theresa Szalay.

“My fondest memories of that place are about the clientele and the music,” adds Andrew Dmytrasz, a head bartender and one of Gypsy’s resident heartthrobs. “It was such an eclectic crowd. You had everyone in there—your suits, your hipsters—even me as a clean-cut Mississauga boy, I kind of fit in there too, somehow. It was an artsy, but very open place.”

“Gypsy worked because the blend of people was just right,” summarizes DJ Vania, a well-established Toronto talent who spent seven years spinning at Webster Hall in New York before returning home and choosing to play in more intimate venues.

“The staff was attractive and could execute. The food was good, and the music never got in the way. It’s a tricky balance that most resto-lounges can never attain. The best part was the vibe—it was very chilled and relatively stress free. That started at the top with the Borgs, and trickled down through the staff and on to the customers.”

The balance attained between the brothers Borg (“I was the visionary ‘street’ guy and Joe brought calm, balance and business to the forefront,” states Mike.) would later be tested at their much larger Fez Batik, opened on Peter Street in 1999, but it was perfected at Gypsy and personified in the venue’s signature Tuesday weekly, dubbed Salon 817.

Tuesdays were industry nights in the truest sense. Mike Borg, along with host/promoter Billy X, resident DJ Vania, his brother Vadim, and Gio Cristiano, had extensive contact lists of fellow bar staff, and put them to good use.

L-R: Mike Borg (Gypsy Co-op co-owner), Billy X, Andy Frost of Q107. Photo courtesy of Mike Borg.

“In the first year, we had maybe 50 to 100 people out, largely a lot of our friends, and then it took on a life of its own,” describes Billy. “There would be nights where I’d know 10 or 20 people, but the other 500 I did not. We were doing some big numbers on Tuesdays at points.”

Salon 817 ran until 2003, with Vania spinning “rare groove, soundtracks, sound library obscurities, and, of course, trippy lounge sounds, always with a sense of humour,” while a range of live musicians performed.

“We had everything from barbershop quartets to East Coast-style bands, sitar players, bongo players, rock guys, jazz guys, and everything in between,” recalls Billy. “It was an open stage for anything we thought was interesting.”

Upstairs on Tuesdays, The Hooch became synonymous with band King Brand Valium.

“They were a trippy, talented group of studio and touring musicians who attracted a lot of other high-profile local musicians,” says Mike Borg. “Think ambient, freestyle, jazzy groove, with guitar, bass, drums, trumpet, percussion and psychedelic lights.”

Following King Brand Valium’s live sets, resident DJs included Douglas Carter, Vasi Medley and Christian Newhook (a.k.a. Dinamo Azari of Azari & III). Other DJs, like Cristiano, Mark Oliver, John E, and Kenny Glasgow also played, which meant Salon 817’s crowds ranged from rocker to raver.

“People were black, white, gay, straight, all over the map,” describes Billy. “It was a real microcosm of the Toronto party scene.

“Mick Jagger and Jerry Hall were in on the same night as Kim Mitchell and his wife. I saw them introducing their wives to each other. Jeff Healey came by all the time. Oasis was in a couple of times, Backstreet Boys, so many people. Tie Domi, Mats Sundin, and other Maple Leafs came out, as did other athletes, and people from CityTV—both Georges [Stroumboulopoulos and Lagogianes] were there a lot. It was the place to be on a Tuesday so you’d get everyone.”

Gypsy Co-op attracted an impressive range of celebs, from actors including Mira Sorvino. Dan Aykroyd, and Michael Imperioli to other musicians like Lenny Kravitz, Robbie Robertson, David Bowie, Tommy Lee, Charlie Watts, and drum ‘n’ bass star Goldie.

Theresa Szalay (centre) with Gypsy Co-op staff members Kim-Ella and Leah. Photo courtesy of Szalay.

Theresa Szalay recalls a sleepy Monday evening on Victoria Day weekend 2001. It started with a skeletal staff and ended in surprise.

“There were four customers in the whole place and the street was empty, so at 11 p.m. I decided to close. As waiter Tom Malloy was closing the front curtain he noticed a girl run up to the door. He called to me, ‘Kate Hudson is knocking, and wants to come in.’ She said she had some friends in the car, they wanted to come in for a drink, and asked if we could keep the doors locked. They had their own security. I told the bar to re-open, and a few minutes later in walked Kate Hudson with her then-husband Chris Robinson, and all his bandmates from The Black Crowes, plus the bands Oasis and Spacehog, Liv Tyler, and Oasis’ manager. Voila, we had a private party!

“Liam Gallagher wanted to play some Beatles and old rock so off he went, messing with our already temperamental mixing board. It was loud and sounded awful. I called our in-house DJ and waiter extraordinaire, Kevin Lee, because it was midnight on a holiday Monday and he lived right down the street. Fifteen minutes later, Kevin showed up with lots of vinyl, and the night continued. They were all very appreciative for the hospitality, paid their very large bill, and tipped everyone well. They also gave me six tickets—awesome seats—for their concert the next night.” [Note: Another Gypsy DJ, Jorge Dacosta, recalls that it was, in fact, he who played tunes at this private party. His comment is below.]

There’s no shortage of Gypsy-related celebrity stories, but it was the many hundreds of devoted regulars who allowed the venue to thrive for more than a decade. Gypsy Co-op’s emphasis on interesting music was a big part of why they were there.

“We did everything from klezmer to mariachi, Middle Eastern, Cuban, swing, blues, reggae, soul, house, hip-hop, electronic, funk, rock and grunge,” says Mike Borg. “I was tired of the mainstream, and believed many of our guests and staff were as well.“

He recalls booking bands like Professor Plum (“an ambient acoustic trio”), Anti Gravity Janitors (“space-trance funk”), and Codex (“trip-hop ambient dub)” alongside DJs on Thursdays and Fridays. Hogtown Hep Cats hosted a long-running swing dance weekly. Saturday evenings boasted a rotating cast of top local DJs, including Vania, Gio, DJ Colin, JC and Bristol, England native Lee Castle a.k.a. DJ/producer Sassa’le, former CKLN radio host and founder of Version Xcursion.

Coverage of Gypsy Co-op’s 3rd anniversary in NOW Magazine, December 1998. Image courtesy of Mike Borg.

“The wide collection of DJs who played all kinds of music made Gypsy different,” says Castle. “It was about like-minded people having a great time, and DJs keeping their ear to the ground. The owners played a big part by giving DJs creative freedom, and being open to new ideas.”

Castle’s signature blend of trip-hop, breaks, dub, and all forms of UK bass music was also heard when he guested at my own long-running event, Glide Wednesdays.

Launched in January 1997 and running for almost seven full years, Glide was a hotbed of underground electronic sounds not often heard in club settings, from dub to soulful drum ‘n’ bass. The complementary Break Fu weekly—with bass-loving tech heads Aria, Jarkko, and Transformer—ran upstairs for some time, while downstairs, I booked a wide range of local guest DJs, like Paul E. Lopes, Moonstarr, and Chocolate.

With the Borgs’ support, I was also able to present early appearances by the likes of Portishead DJ Andy Smith, L.A. beat experimentalist The Angel, innovative British producer Andrea Parker (on her DJ Kicks tour), and Bristol-based Cup Of Tea artists like Purple Penguin and Jaz Klash (Rob Smith of Smith & Mighty with Peter D and The Angel).

“It was personal for me to see DJs from my hometown come over and smash it,” says Sassa’le, who also recalls the Wednesday night another famous Bristolian caused a stir.

“Roni Size was at the venue, just chilling, and walked over to ask a question. The guy next to me couldn’t believe it and started freaking out,” says Castle, who has continued to DJ and produce (his latest album, SystemEcho, was released recently).

Collection of Glide Wednesdays flyers. Courtesy of Denise Benson.

In early 2000, the Glide vibe was expanded upon when I invited talented DJ and kindred musical spirit Andrew ‘Allsgood’ Puusa to join me full-time. It was his first club residency.

“I think what made Glide an amazing night was adventurous programming,” says Puusa. “We had a strong lean towards sounds that were on the fringes of electronic and dance music, and didn’t have much of a voice in Toronto. Downtempo, left-field hip-hop, nu-jazz, broken beat, and future soul were all championed, along with deep house and dub, from roots to modern.” (He now releases re-edits with Alister Johnson on their Free Association label.)

It was Glide’s lean towards dub and its many modern-day offshoots that attracted regulars like James and Graeme Moore, the bassist and guitarist, respectively, in dub band Resinators.

“No one was spinning anything except what they wanted to,” recounts James Moore of Glide. “The uncompromising quality was exactly what made it special. The music was new, and we talked about it a lot. The crowd was a who’s who of Toronto music heads—musicians, radio and club DJs. The scene was very open and accepting. It was an absolute must-attend for years.

“Glide was also a place out-of-town DJs were welcomed. We knew their music, and they could count on an appreciative audience, with lots of tolerance for offbeat, weird stuff.”

As evidence, Glide’s five-year anniversary was marked by sold-out appearances by both Netherlands-based Twilight Circus Dub Sound System and, two weeks later, Manitoba (now known as Caribou) who performed his first live P.A. in Toronto. British producers Bonobo and Mark Rae also guested, as did NYC’s Nickodemus and, in 2003, we marked six years with a two-floor lineup featuring Akufen, Mike Shannon, Deadbeat and Tim Hecker. Those were heady times.

Resinators also added much bass to the mix over a series of live dates.

“When Resinators started our weekly dub residency upstairs, it was great synergy,” says James. “We would pack that little room with as much gear as it could handle. One night surprise guest Glen Washington sat in on drums, bass, and vocals. It was common to see talents like Esthero and LAL, among up-and-comers. It was the start of the ‘open mic’ Resinators’ sessions where we honed our classics with guest vocalists.”

Also significant were Thursday nights at Gypsy, when the live hip-hop showcase In Divine Style reigned supreme upstairs in The Hooch. Launched in January of 2001 by Ryan Somers a.k.a. Fritz tha Cat, former rap editor for Vice magazine, the pioneering event was an extension of Somers’ In Search of . . . Divine Styler ‘zine (later, a related book), and was especially infamous for its open mic segment.

“We generally presented a night with three to five main performers, and then an open mic freestyle segment that featured anywhere up to 25 MCs, singers, performers, comedians, and poets,” explains Addi Stewart, a.k.a. Mindbender, an original host of the night who later took over organizing duties.

“The goal was to give artists a venue, an audience, and a chance to perform when there was barely any other opportunities or spaces to do so.”

Key contributors to In Divine Style included engineer/soundman DJ Dorc, doorwoman and host Alexis, DJ and MC More or Les, and other DJs including Todd Skimmins, Vangel, Danimal, Druncnes Monstr, Son of S.O.U.L., Mel Boogie, and EfSharp. The monthly SheStyle sessions featured DJs including Dalia and Tashish, and heavy-hitting host MCs like Eternia and Sunny D. Art by the likes of Elicsr and EGR was on display while bboys and bgirls added to the IDS energy.

More or Les (left) hosts In Divine Style. Photo: Richard Lautens/Toronto Star.

Stewart says that “approximately 636 MCs came through,” a mix of local, national and international talents. Now familiar names like Ian Kamau, Brassmunk, Tara Chase, Masia One, Graph Nobel, Aysicks, Dope Poets Society, and Theology 3 were among them. He makes mention of wordsmiths like Chuggo (“the electric essence of what KOTD battle rap has become today); Travis Blackman (“a room-silencing superhuman vocalist and eye-expanding performer); and an 18-year-old Isis, later of Thunderheist, who made her club debut at IDS (“she ripped the mic insanely!”).

Until it ended in January of 2006, after running as a monthly during its last year, In Divine Style played a crucial role in nurturing Toronto’s hip-hop talent and community. It put performers in front of caring, often capacity, crowds.

“Friends felt like family,” describes Stewart. “People sold, traded, and bought each other’s CDs, we had themed nights, and a very special warm and fuzzy connection between heads in a hip-hop era that honestly does not exist in this day and age. There was no internet, so you had to be there to hear what people said and did every week.

“Second-hand stories were not enough; it was about being present and participating in the culture. It was really a place filled with love for hip-hop lyrics. MCs had to come with some good rhymes. People never get booed off stage for being average, but the most applause would go to the best mic rockers. In Divine Style was the perfect place for an aspiring MC to lose their stage virginity!” (As evidence, dozens of IDS performances were archived and can still be enjoyed online.)

Who else played / worked there: It’s impossible to list all of the DJs who played at Gypsy over time, but other familiar names from the venues’ earlier years include DJ Martini, Peace Harvest, James St. Bass, Fish Fry, Dave Cooper, Jason Palma, and Sam ‘EfSharp’ Fleming. Fleming promoted the Word Is Mightier weekly while also working as a cook and arts curator at the Co-op.

The kitchen and bar staff was, of course, essential to Gypsy’s function and team spirit. Chefs included Andrew Underwood, Laura White and Chris Thomas, with support from spirited kitchen staff including Kristine Catignas, Amber Husband, and Kim-Ella Hunter. Among the bar and wait staff were musicians like Miles Roberts and Steve Singh. City councillor Michelle Berardinetti once worked there, as did Jill Dickson (later co-owner of Watusi) and the late, lovely Jenna Morrison.

Even Gypsy’s team of managers—including Dave Clarke, Clay Hunter and Salvatore Natale—was a cast of characters.

Salvatore Natale in the Gypsy Co-op office. Photo courtesy of Mike Borg.

“Staff was one of our biggest assets,” emphasizes Joseph Borg. “They needed to have a smooth personality, be a little unusual, and accepting of all people. They had to be able to deliver a professional experience to our guests, without looking the part.”

Bartender Andrew Dmytrasz refers to the waiter named Ron to illustrate this point.

“One night, when the dining room was packed, he puts a tray with a single pint of beer on his head, and walks ever so slowly and carefully to deliver it. The entire dining room stopped eating, watched him and erupted into applause. That was the kind of fun that Gypsy was all about. It wasn’t just, ‘Give me my drinks and food, and we’re out of here.’ To this day, it’s my favourite place to have worked.” (Dmytrasz would later open Mississauga resto-lounge The Enfield Fox with Sal Natale and Joseph Borg, and now works for Epic Cruises.)

“I think Gypsy was truly a ‘co-op’ of artists and creators who could showcase themselves and share talents in one space,” states Szalay. “There was always so much going on, and it changed all the time.” (Szalay is now mother to a young daughter, and has developed a line of body care products called Olive Tree Organics.)

Perhaps the biggest change of all at Gypsy Co-op came in 2003, when a new chapter began.

“Mike had gone to start his new life in British Columbia, so the last while was not the same,” explains Joseph Borg. “Part of the soul of Gypsy had left.”

In spring of 2003, Gypsy Co-op was sold to 27-year-old entrepreneur and event promoter Ismael ‘Izzy’ Shqueir, along with friend Devin Thomas and other partners.

Dolores and Shingo Shimizu with Gani Shqueir (right). Photo courtesy of Izzy Shqueir.

Shqueir is familiar to many as the co-founder of milk. events, which launched in 1996 as a small party in Kensington Market, and grew to become one of the biggest and most distinctive party brands in town. Izzy, along with brother Gani Shqueir and DJ partner Felix Bianchini, had produced big shows in venues like Roxy Blu, Turbo, and The Warehouse. They also presented artists including Perry Farrell, Dimitri From Paris, and Jazzanova at the Borgs’ Fez Batik. As a result, Shqueir was brought in to program and market events at Gypsy, and was then a natural candidate to lead the venue’s next chapter.

“The feeling was that Izzy had brought much to the Gypsy, and would be able to provide a new heart and soul to allow it to grow into a new decade,” says Joseph Borg.

“The brilliant thing that separated Gypsy Co-op from other establishments was its warm, welcoming and laid-back style,” reflects Shqueir. “Gypsy never set out to be a slick bar or fancy restaurant—not when it started or after I took over.”

Shqueir worked to maintain Gypsy’s formula, food quality, and aesthetic while providing much-needed upgrades to the kitchen, washrooms, and sound system.

“We were careful to try and preserve the old magic as much as possible,” he states. “I think my contribution tied Gypsy back into the changing trends—musically and food-wise. With music as my forte, we brought through an array of talent, ranging from locals like Fritz Helder & The Phantoms to iconic producers like Prince Paul.”

Izzy describes the music programming as “a little more street level,” as he, Gani, and Felix maintained an eclectic mix, with added emphasis on hip-hop, house, and electronics.

DJs John Kong (left) and Dirty Dale at Gypsy. Photo courtesy of Izzy Shqueir.

The Hot Stepper crew produced occasional events, as did techno-loving brothers Zeeshan and Osman, then owners of nearby clothing shop, Reset. Mira Aroyo of Ladytron came in for a DJ set, bands including God Made Me Funky performed, and Sunday nights were revamped to feature belly dancers and live traditional Arabic music.

Hip-hop heads had a lot to enjoy. Not only did In Divine Style continue on Thursdays, but DJs Numeric, Dalia, and More or Les presented their classic hip-hop monthly Never Forgive Action on Fridays for well over a year, while the New Kicks night brought beats and breakdancers to Wednesdays for three years.

Initially held down by DJs Fathom and 2-Swift Household, New Kicks was hosted by beloved b-boy Benzo, of Bag of Trix. Eventually, DJ Serious joined Fathom in blending funk, breaks and hip-hop on three turntables and two mixers.

“New Kicks became the central night for local breakers and our neighbours,” says Shqueir. “Fathom and Serious are such versatile guys, and rocked the lounge all night long.”

At the New Kicks weekly. Photo by Zach Slootsky.

What happened to it: “Given that Gypsy had been successfully operating for many years, the building and its structure were becoming severely worn,” Shqueir recalls, citing major electrical and plumbing issues among other pressing needs.

“After it became clear that further renos were needed to keep the business competitive, things became tough. Trends jumped our strip of Queen West and ignited around The Drake. Negotiations with the landlord to secure a solid, win-win, long-term deal weren’t successful. At that point, we cut our losses. We had enough to pay our staff and small suppliers, so we folded and left.”

Gypsy Co-op’s doors were locked on December 28, 2006. Shqueir feels that its influence lives on.

“Other venues since have carried on the supper-club concept,” he begins. “They have been larger, they have been louder, and they been successful, but they haven’t captured the magic [of] Gypsy Co-op. The mélange of people from different creative scenes and age groups is not something I’ve seen naturally occur since.

“Venues like The Drake, Ultra, and Brant House all followed the same format successfully, within their own niches, but none have done it with the old-school method of two turntables and a promoter. Gypsy launched with a certain momentum, reputation, and street credibility. It’s the perfect sweet spot every business owner hopes to achieve.”

Post-Gypsy, Shqueir pursued his “childhood dream of driving trains,” and has trained with Bombardier for the past five years, working towards a locomotive engineer certificate. He is also a licensed mortgage agent. Gani and Felix continue to produce events under the milk. banner.

Mike Borg lives in Kelowna, B.C., where he owns and operates 250-seat restaurant and lounge, Cabana Grille. He’s also a partner, with Joseph Borg and others, in Pegasus Hospitality Group, which operates venues including Palais Royale, Casa Loma, and The Grand Luxe.

817 Queen West is now home to The Dog’s Bollocks sports pub.

Thank you to participants Addi ‘Mindbender’ Stewart, Andrew Dmytrasz, Andrew Puusa, Billy X, Gio Cristiano, Izzy Shqueir, James Moore, Joseph Borg, Lee Castle, Mike Borg, Theresa Szalay, and Vania, as well as to David ‘Fathom’ Mussio, Noel Dix, Sam ‘EfSharp’ Fleming, Thomas Quinlan.

The post Then & Now: Gypsy Co-op appeared first on Then and Now: Toronto Nightlife History.

Article originally published September 24, 2012 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

360 Adelaide St. W. has had many incarnations over its 90-year-plus existence, but it is best remembered as the home of Toronto’s burgeoning drum ‘n’ bass scene in the early 2000s.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Turbo Niteclub, 360 Adelaide W.

Years in operation: 2000-2003

History: Built around 1920, the six-storey red brick office building at 360 Adelaide St. W. has been home to multiple dance clubs, many of them owned and operated by Vincent Donohoe. He’d opened Top 40 venue Denile at the address in 1997, a time when the Entertainment District was synonymous with nightclubs, but Donohoe was no newbie. He’d already helped finance Charles Khabouth’s first two clubs in the 1980s—Club Z at 11A St. Joseph and Stilife on Richmond—and run other businesses.

“Although Charles Khabouth never seems to want to let people know, I was a full partner in Club Z and the money behind Stilife,” writes Donohoe in an email. “He was broke when I met him, and at one time I owned two thirds of Club Z. I also helped put together Orchid Nightclub [on Richmond Street], and was general manager for their first three years, until I built Denile.”

Donohoe’s one-floor Denile later morphed into Jet Nightclub, a hybrid venue that held successful commercial nights, and was regularly rented out by rave production companies like Ritual, Empire, and Lifeforce Industries for much more underground, after-hours events.

By 1999, Lifeforce—Toronto’s largest rave production company and the umbrella organization behind the Dose, Syrous, and Renegades brands—was under intense scrutiny as the City, police, and media cracked down on late-night parties. Toronto’s once enormous rave scene was dwindling, the crowds maturing, and events had moved increasingly to licensed nightclubs like Industry.

The young entrepreneurs behind Lifeforce—Rob Lisi, brothers Steve and Wayne Mealing (a.k.a. DJs Stretch & Hooker), Tyler Cho, and Aaron Micks—recognized it was time to flip the script.

Aaron Micks from Lifeforce. Photo by Jay Futronic.

“The motivation for opening our own club was mostly driven by the political pressure from the city, and increased costs at the raves,” explains Lisi. “At that time, there was a lot of negative attention on the rave scene, and finding a new home to place all the DJs we were booking was the number-one priority. Lifeforce was the biggest target for city officials and it just wasn’t feasible at that time to run the larger parties. Venue-capacity numbers were being reduced, paid-duty officer requirements were going up, and other costs were going through the roof. Moving into the clubs was the logical next step.”

“We were not actively looking to lease a property or build a club from the ground up because we were so busy,” adds Wayne Mealing a.k.a. DJ Hooker. “However, Lifeforce did an event at Jet in summer of 1999 that was the busiest night they had ever had. When Rob and I went to settle the event the next week, the owners approached us with the idea of partnering up, and us eventually buying them out to take over the lease.”

“For us, it was the right place at the right time, especially at a time when Industry, still my favourite club, was closing,” says Lisi.

Donohoe gives due credit: “Lifeforce showed a new way of entertaining that I had missed with Jet and Denile; they showed me how the late-night scene was so alive.”

A deal was struck that split the business three ways between Donohoe, his silent partner, and the men of Lifeforce, with the two original owners maintaining responsibility for day-to-day operations and the late-night lads taking on programming, promotion, and the sound and lighting design.

In very little time, Jet was renovated into a much larger, darker concrete whole. The ground floor became a huge rectangular room with multiple bars, a raised VIP area, decent décor, and a massive DJ booth at the back. The sizable basement had less frills and little lighting. Legal capacity doubled from 900 to 1,800 people, making it by far one of the largest clubs in the area. Most significantly, the Lifeforce crew had a state-of-the-art Turbosound system installed.

Turbo Niteclub opened in April of 2000.

Why it was important: “I think what made the space work as Turbo was the excellent promoting and booking talents of the Lifeforce crew on Fridays,” says Alex Dordevic, publisher of the defunct but influential TRIBE magazine and its still very active message boards.

“These guys cut their teeth throwing some of the earliest rave events in the city, and consistently threw the largest raves in Toronto, culminating with that massive Freakin’ event at Polson Street that set the record for the largest rave ever thrown here,” Dordevic says. “They had a great following, and a lot of friends and music connections because of the rave promoting, as well as a great love of the music. Turbo was their first experiment into transitioning from throwing one-off rave events to doing a large regular nightclub.”

“The timing of Turbo was perfect,” says Steve Mealing, a.k.a. DJ Stretch. “Our goal was to provide a top-quality sound system and an underground feel on a weekly basis. The talent pool and availability was outgrowing how many events we could do with the standard or quality we were producing. Turbo was a place to cultivate local talent, and showcase the arts where it fit in. The quality of talent in Toronto at the time made it that much easier to do.”

Steve Mealing, a.k.a. Stretch. Photo by Jay Futronic.

But first there was the matter of moving a great number of locals—and their followers—over from the nearby System Soundbar. System had opened a year earlier, and was already attracting huge post-raver crowds, largely thanks to the Lifeforce crew’s popular Friday night and FungleJunk Tuesdays there. As documented in a Then & Now story about System, Lifeforce brought both nights and System’s Saturday night crew of promoter Craig Pettigrew and DJs John E and Myka over to Turbo.

“Although we were really happy at System Soundbar, the thought of having input into all aspects of a club’s identity, music policy, sound, feel, layout, and staff was too much for us not to do it,” explains Wayne Mealing.

The Turbo Fridays concept was to feature the Dose take on house, techno, and underground party music upstairs—with resident DJs Stretch & Hooker and Tim Patrick—and the drum ‘n’ bass and jungle associated with Syrous/Renegades and the Vinyl Syndicate DJ crew downstairs. Fridays launched on April 15, 2000, with guests Donald Glaude and DJ Zinc.

Donald Glaude turns out Turbo. Photo by Jay Futronic.

The Turbo Fridays crowd gives it up for Donald Glaude. Photo by Jay Futronic.

DJ Sneak guested the next night at the launch of Drul Saturdays, playing alongside residents Myka and John E. Competing for the same crowds as System and The Guvernment, Drul never fully gained traction. Promoters Jennstar and Gairy Brown—long associated with Industry Niteclub—were hired in September of 2000 to launch Giant Saturdays, aimed at a more mature house crowd. Residents Myka and Carlos Fuerte played alongside international guests including John Acquaviva, DJ Dove, and Satoshi Tomiie.

Lifeforce Fridays proved to be immediately popular, however.

“The main room was rammed with a lively and very engaged crowd every week, so the vibe was incredible,” says Tim Patrick, who had also played at System, Industry, and large raves, and had toured regularly across North America by the time he played Turbo. “Every Friday was epic.”

Tim Patrick and Myka. Photo by Jay Futronic.

“Fridays attracted an interesting mix of house and techno heads with a splash of artsy professionals,” recalls Steve Mealing. “There was no attitude, no music snobs—just people open to new sounds and the staple classics. Without a doubt, the party people who supported Turbo from day one directly reflected how educated the Toronto scene really was at that time. Everyone came for the people and the music, not to peacock around.”

Upstairs on Fridays, touring artists like Misstress Barbra, Barry Weaver, Terry Mullan, Dave Clarke, and Bad Boy Bill could be found in the booth. Britain’s Carl Cox notoriously melted the crowd on Turbo’s first anniversary.

Steve Mealing recalls some other favourite Friday nights: “Darren Emerson from Underworld destroyed the place one night; it was rammed to the entrance, and the crowd was beyond up for it. There was also the night that DJ Dan’s records were lost by the airline. The club was thick with energy so he offered to play our records, and played back-to-back with us for six hours. Amazing.”

“I loved playing at Turbo,” says brother Wayne. “I feel like Stretch & Hooker grew up as DJs at System, and crafted the art at Turbo.”

Tim Patrick—who later moved to Croatia, now resides in Prague, and tours Europe constantly—feels the same.

“It was an incredible opportunity for me to really get to work on such a powerful set-up that was created with the DJ in mind. I was able to open for some very big guests and, on some nights, play nice, long extended sets. I was granted the ability to develop my sound at Turbo, on my terms, and I am incredibly thankful for that.”

Mike. Photo by Jay Futronic,

More than anything though, Turbo is remembered as a key hub for Toronto’s drum ‘n’ bass scene—at that time, one of the largest in the world.

“Although the d’n’b room was smaller, with lesser sound and had its quirks, some of the best parties at Turbo were downstairs,” offers Wayne Mealing.

“Turbo was the first time we had major club to call home for d’n’b,” says Brad Leonard a.k.a. DJ Lush, a former resident at Turbo’s Syrous Sessions Fridays, FungleJunk Tuesdays, and also heard at all the big parties of the time.

“In the hardcore days, we had 23 Hop; in the jungle days, we had the Tunnel, and then after that ended it was five years till we, as a scene, landed in Turbo. You have to remember the drum ‘n’ bass scene had always just been on its own. We never got the press, and we were always relegated to ‘second rooms.’

“Turbo was a chance to independently do our own thing and the d’n’b scene at that time was just thriving—there were so many people into the music. The crowd was so knowledgeable; they really responded to new tunes and good mixing. Many tunes that went on to be these genre-defining classic anthems, we played or heard there first.”

“The basement at Turbo on Fridays was a testing ground for all the new tunes and dubs,” agrees Pat Brodeur a.k.a. Mystical Influence, one of the most ubiquitous Toronto drum ‘n’ bass DJ/producers of all time. “If it worked in that room on Friday, you could pretty much guarantee that you would hear it everywhere for the next month.”

Video by Sensory Transduction. Features Mystical Influence and Sniper at FungleJunk, May 2000 and more.

Brodeur—who also headed up the d’n’b section at influential record shop Eastern Bloc and ran both Vinyl Syndicate Recordings and Fully Loaded Distribution, among other projects, with his brother Chris, a.k.a. DJ Sniper—was heavily involved in the bookings for both the Syrous Sessions and the all-ages FungleJunk Tuesdays.

Mystical, Sniper, and Marcus Visionary were key residents at both nights, rotating with Lush, Unknown Souljah, Everfresh, Prime, Slip & Slide, Dominik, and Illfingas, and MCs including L Natural, Caddy Cad, and JD. But the talent didn’t stop there.

“We tried to get everyone in to play, including guys who had never played anywhere,” says Brodeur. He booked early appearances by locals including Ruckus, Capital J, Spinz, Gremlinz, and Mr. Brown. “If you brought your demo tape to E-Bloc and I thought it was decent, you got a slot.”

“Basically anybody who hung around Eastern Bloc long enough would get a chance to play,” confirms Leonard. “If Turbo was the party hub of the d’n’b scene, Eastern Bloc was where you rubbed shoulders with the DJs and got to know who the serious guys were. It was the essential meeting place at that time.”

DJ Zinc with T.O. junglists. Photo by alexd at TRIBE http://www.tribemagazine.com.

Resident junglists Tragedy, Marcus Visionary, JD, Mystical Influence, Prime, and Lush. Photo courtesy of Lush.

Both Syrous Sessions and FungleJunk featured a steady stream of top international guests as well, including DJ Hype, Zinc, DJ Rap, Aphrodite, Randall, Dieselboy, MC Dynamite, and Andy C.

“Andy C had some unbelievable sets in there over its time,” enthuses Leonard. “He owned that place, and would leave people in awe. All the major players came through there at one point or another.”

Andy C’s set recorded live at Turbo in September of 2001 can be downloaded at the Toronto Rave Mixtape Archive website (in two parts), where live Turbo sets from the likes of Bad Company, Marcus Intalex, and Mickey Finn can also be found.

“We were spoiled at that time,” agrees Marcus Sills a.k.a. DJ/producer Marcus Visionary, a Turbo resident, rave mainstay, and prominent Toronto talent who produces and tours the globe to this day. “The d’n’b nights had crowds who were very serious about the music. It was a really amazing time to be playing in the city.

“Turbo also gave us a place to develop. Many DJs learned to become better in that basement. I most definitely learned a lot about controlling a rig, and a crowd, from playing there. There was no hiding your skills when playing on that rig.”

Turbo’s notoriously loud basement. Photo by alexd at TRIBE (http://www.tribemagazine.com).

The sound in Turbo’s basement was notoriously loud, and could be painful if DJs didn’t know how to balance the system’s high and low ends. Still, the drum ‘n’ bass crowds were often Turbo’s bread and butter as System Soundbar began to compete again for house and tech fans.

In August of 2001, Lifeforce Fridays came to an end, and the men of Lifeforce Industries pulled out as partners. The Renegades/Syrous Sessions wrapped three months later.

“Lifeforce had the largest raves, and some of the biggest talent; however, that model didn’t translate to a club setting easily,” says Brodeur, now based in Denver where he’s long held multiple DJ residencies.

“The big DJ wages didn’t get smaller in a smaller venue, so you were paying the same [to attract] less people. Add in the guest list—everybody was friends—ladies free, all the free drinks, and so on, and all of a sudden it’s a lot harder to make money.”

Rob Lisi, now based in Switzerland, further elaborates: “Why did we leave? I think we all have different reasons, but the easy answer is that we were losing money. At that time, Toronto wasn’t ready for three or four after-hours clubs, and we didn’t have the deepest pockets. There was also some pressure at that time from our partners to change the format on Saturdays back to R&B and mainstream, and we just didn’t want any part of it. We had to walk away from our investment, but we also walked away from all the headaches that ensued.”

The Lifeforce crew went on to different projects. Lisi helmed Benson & Hedges’ Goldclub sponsorship series, taking artists like Danny Tenaglia, Deep Dish, Tiesto, Paul Oakenfold, and Richie Hawtin to clubs across Canada. The brothers Mealing—later joined by Cho and Micks—began to develop a large-scale tour project, dubbed Mekka, that never came to fruition. That September, Stretch & Hooker also launched Communicate Fridays with co-residents Tim Patrick and Myka at Element Bar.

Vincent Donohoe continued to operate Turbo, and brought in promoters including Charles Lewis and Jesse Brown.

Czech spins at Lifeforce Fridays’ closing night. Photo by Jay Futronic.

Who else played there: The Turbo story, of course, extends beyond the weekend nights and FungleJunk Tuesdays. If you were going out to parties at the time, you’d also find street teams flyering the city for events at Turbo featuring prominent touring DJs including Jeff Mills, Roger S, and Richie Hawtin, who performed at Blu’s fifth anniversary in November 2001.

“That was one of the most memorable one-off events for me,” says Wayne Mealing. “I remember talking to the doormen at System Soundbar that night and they could clearly hear Richie’s set from Turbo at their front door. That was the clearest and loudest the sound system ever was; Richie tuned it himself, and clearly knew how to optimize the system for his sound.”

Laurent Garnier. Photo by alexd at TRIBE (http://www.tribemagazine.com).

A year earlier, Alex Dordevic marked the seventh anniversary of TRIBE magazine with a party at Turbo that featured a live performance by Laurent Garnier and band. People lined up for blocks—all the way west to Spadina—and later wrote rave reviews.

Local talents like Josh Obront, a.k.a. DJ/producer Jelo, worked overtime to land guest gigs at Turbo. Obront, who also worked at the Eastern Bloc record shop, was notorious for his popular series of mixtapes, and he put special effort into creating a high-BPM blend for the Turbo set. (Download Side A here and Side B here).

“I worked my ass off on that thing,” recalls Obront. “The tape was successful as hell, but still I wasn’t offered more shows than the dozen or so I did play.”

Obront was especially a fan of Turbo’s large, concrete DJ booth—“the concrete allowed me to dance my ass off while playing vinyl and not induce one skip”—and its other extremes. “At Turbo, there was never enough seating or places to get away from the music for a moment. You were either in or you were out—like, ‘Take this music and swallow it, stand up, dance, drink.’ That’s it.”

Jelo played at the club while the Lifeforce crew was involved and after they’d left. The junglists also maintained ties to the club, with Friday nights featuring drum ‘n’ bass upstairs and breaks downstairs for a stretch. Lots of d’n’b promoters continued to hold special events at Turbo, including Marcus Visionary, who hosted a number of Junglist Movement parties there.

“One of my standout memories was having a sold-out Junglist Movement event with Shy FX DJing upstairs,” Marcus recounts. “This was the first time I met him, and we became good friends. Eventually, I was signed to his Digital Soundboy record label.”

Turbo bar staff. Photo by Jay Futronic.

As for Turbo’s Saturday nights post-Lifeforce, Jennstar’s Giant ended and the night was generally rented out to promoters of mainstream events. A shooting at the club in October of 2002 did not help the club’s increasingly shaky reputation, but did result in the addition of metal detectors and a lawsuit against the police by a frustrated Donohoe.

“As we found out later, this was part of an undercover operation by the Toronto Police looking into individuals who had robbed a gun store a month earlier, and had killed the owner,” Donohoe explains. “They knew that this individual was coming to Turbo that night, but did not try to stop him as they were looking for more clues on the previous crime. He was wire-tapped, and I even have the transcript to this day. I sued, but got nowhere and dropped the case in 2007 after I had retired.” (Further details are documented in a Toronto Star story archived here.)

Turbo regulars gather at the final edition of Lifeforce Fridays. Photo by Jay Futronic.

What happened to it: “When Lifeforce moved on, it seems that the electronic era had taken a turn to smaller venues,” says Donohoe. “I tried to still do the big events, but [the audience] was not there. Also, I did not have the marketing skills of Lifeforce around me. I give those boys a lot of credit for our success.”

Donohoe certainly did give it a go, though. In late 2002, he rebranded Turbo’s lower level as Klinik, and booked in a range of underground hip-hop, breaks, drum ‘n’ bass, house, and techno events. Turbo upstairs also became a rental club.

Early in 2003, Donohoe renovated and re-opened 360 Adelaide St. W. as another underground dance=music venue: Sound Emporium upstairs, with Klinik below. Both floors were special event–driven. Patrons entered by walking down an alleyway and into a back door that led to the lower level.

The address took on yet another identity late in 2005, when Donohoe partnered with the people formerly involved in Spadina street after-hours club Boa Redux. A small number of events were produced on Adelaide under the Boa banner.

“I think a lot of the problem was that it had too many reincarnations,” summarizes Alex Dordevic. “You can only rebrand an address so many times, I reckon. Even the best promoters and DJs still have to battle against the previous karma to make it work.”

Donohoe closed Sound Emporium/Boa Redux early in 2006, and retired from the club business.

360 Adelaide St. W. now blends into its environment. The building sits surrounded by office buildings, condos and condo towers in the making.

Thank you to Alex Dordevic, Brad Leonard, Josh Obront, Marcus Sills, Pat Brodeur, Rob Lisi, Steve Mealing, Tim Patrick, Vincent Donohoe, and Wayne Mealing for participating, as well as to Jay Futronic, Jennstar, Ryan Smith, and TorontoRaveMixtapeArchive.com.

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

Article originally published July 27, 2012 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

As the Entertainment District grew more sophisticated in the 1990s, this proudly shabby and unpretentious nightclub drew crowds by the thousands each week to a sleepy stretch of Adelaide.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Limelight, 250 Adelaide St. W.

Years in operation: 1993-2003

History: Before the Entertainment District became synonymous with dance clubs, the well-worn brick building at 250 Adelaide St. W. was home to businesses including a print shop and Old Favorites Books.

Located near the corner of Duncan, the building was spotted by businessman Zisi Konstantinou, who saw its potential as a club space. Richmond Street east of Spadina was already attracting large weekend crowds in the early 1990s, thanks to venues like Charles Khabouth’s pioneering Stilife and the Ballinger brothers’ hotspot Go-Go, which later became Whiskey Saigon. Adelaide east of Spadina was not yet a dancer’s destination.

Konstantinou’s next smart move was to hire Boris Khaimovich as general manager of his club-to-be. Khaimovich—who’d worked the door and managed at Toronto clubs including The Copa, Boom Boom Room, and Go-Go, brought his vision to the project—and was Limelight’s guiding light for eight of its 10 years.

Boris Khaimovich (left) and Zisi Konstantinou at Limelight. Photo © by Steven Lungley. All rights reserved.

“Zisi hadn’t owned a club before,” explains Khaimovich over the phone from his Port Hope home. “His dad had a strip club in Cambridge, but Zisi didn’t yet know much about the nightclub business. I came out of Ballinger organizations where you very much speak your mind because, if you don’t, you’ll just get eaten—because those guys see through bullshit.

“I came in to meet with Zisi about six weeks before the club opened. He told me what he wanted to do, and I said, ‘The concept you have just won’t work.’ Everybody who opens up a club for their first time thinks they’ve just reinvented the wheel. So their club is going to be for high-end crowds, with a dress code, with a $20 cover charge for people to come in. I said, ‘Let’s not do that. Let’s not be silly.’ My argument has always been that I’d rather take a little bit of money for a long time than take a lot of money in the short term.”

Khaimovich got it right. Limelight opened on March 10, 1993 and the crowds grew steadily over its first year. The club’s dress code was dropped during that time, cover charge and drinks were deliberately affordable, and staff was hired to reflect the fact that Limelight had no pretensions of being anything other than a fun, friendly social spot.

“I didn’t want to be a shooting star and just come and go quickly,” Khaimovich stresses. “I never wanted to be the coolest club—I’d seen what happened to Go-Go. The entire mentality behind Limelight was to be like a comfortable pair of jeans.”

Photo courtesy of James Vandervoort.

Why it was important: Limelight’s attitude-free “Give the customer what they want” approach brought tens of thousands annually through its huge metallic, garage-door façade.

“Those garage doors were fake,” chuckles Khaimovich about the famous entranceway. “Zisi bought everything at auctions so whatever he bought, we had to find a way to make it fit. He must have gotten a deal on galvanized siding so we put [the doors] up on the outside of the bottom two floors of the club. He found toilets at yard sales and auctions too, so we always had mismatched toilets.”

Aesthetically, Limelight was the antithesis of slick. The club’s two levels—initially there was a dancefloor level and balcony overlooking it—were painted with blues, reds and greens, and featured a whole lot of stools and wood banquettes upholstered in black vinyl. Enormous murals painted by artist Marc Sorozan were black-lit for a 3-D effect. Wearing black clothing at Limelight meant every bit of lint you carried would be revealed.

The club also boasted “the biggest mirror ball in the city at that time,” according to Khaimovich. It nicely complemented Limelight’s advanced, intelligent lighting system and thundering, crystal-clear sound.

Boxer Donovan Boucher (at back) and friends at opening night. Photo by Steven Lungley. All rights reserved.

Part of Limelight’s appeal was its size. With an initial legal capacity of 650 people—1,100 after the club expanded to three floors and added its popular rooftop patio—you could always find a spot to call your own, even as the crowds grew larger than the club could allow.

“During our peak years—say years three, four and five—we were the third volume beer seller in Ontario,” says Khaimovich. “The only places that were ahead of us were SkyDome and Maple Leaf Gardens.”

During these years, Limelight operated six nights per week, with a popular fetish party run monthly on Tuesdays by Boris and Madame X bringing the club’s total to an exhausting 28 open nights monthly. The programming was wildly eclectic, ranging from commercial weekends and meat-market university nights to rock, rave, retro. and gay weeklies.

Peter the Greek (left) with Craig Pettigrew (right) and friend.
Photo courtesy of Pettigrew.

Konstantinou brought in Peter Ivals a.k.a. Peter the Greek—a club and rave mainstay who also DJed within Greek-community party circles—to anchor the high-energy Saturday nights, which he did for Limelight’s entire duration. Khaimovich booked DJ James St. Bass, a known talent from Boom Boom Room, Go-Go, and OZ to hold down Friday nights.

“Of all the club residencies I ever had, Limelight was the most challenging to play,” the man also known as James Vandervoort tells me. “The owner was pretty picky about who he wanted in the club, so it was very geared to commercial dance music on weekends. At the time, that meant Euro-dance as well as popular house: think Snap!, Haddaway, Culture Beat, and Ace of Base. I didn’t care for this sound personally, but the crowd loved it.”

Vandervoort recalls playing favourites like Jam & Spoon’s “Right in the Night” alongside whatever disco, underground house, rock, rave, and Prince he could get away with.

“I was there to entertain, and make people dance,” says Vandervoort. “And I did. It was worth it for the sound system and the hard-partying people. The energy in Limelight could be extraordinary. Fridays were very successful; I would show up to open at 9 p.m. and the crowd would be lined up down the street.”

In addition to DJing Fridays for Limelight’s first two years, Vandervoort held down a number of other roles at the club. Conveniently, he lived in a studio space across the street—“so I’d get a busboy to help me carry crates home”—and could easily slip over to bartend or DJ on various nights, including the gay Wednesdays promoted by Eric Robertson during Limelight’s first year.

Limelight promo image courtesy of Eric Robertson.

“The format was different from a regular club night, and completely different for the gay scene,” recalls Robertson by email. “It was more like a weekly rave. All the best DJs wanted to play.”

It helped that Robertson had connections in both worlds. He’d go-go danced at popular boy weeklies in venues like Boom Boom, Go-Go, and The Phoenix, had thrown underground parties at spots including the Sears Warehouse, and worked with people including Don Berns a.k.a. Dr. Trance and Claudio from Pleasure Force and Atlantis to produce a range of raves.

His Wednesday weekly featured an impressive array of DJs, including St. Bass, Dr. Trance, Alx of London, Dino and Terry, David Cooper, Matt C, Mitch Winthrop, Barry Harris, John E, and Deko-ze.

“It was the mix of DJs that really made it work,” says Robertson. “The rave scene was peaking and the gay clubs were not very exciting. Ravers appreciated a nice club. Gays love a good sound system. Win-win. I loved the mix of the glow-stick kids and men with their shirts off!”

The night eventually gave way to PURE Wednesdays (more on this to come), but helped establish Limelight as far more than a typical commercial club. Also to that end, DJ Iain’s Childhood’s End Sundays—later re-branded as Primal Vision—was a signature night that ran for a full seven years.

Flyer courtesy of Erin O’Connor.

Iain McPherson is one of this city’s great pioneering forces in the meeting of alternative, industrial, and electronic sounds. Though he held down weekly residencies for the better part of two decades at clubs including Nuts & Bolts, The Copa, OZ, Catch 22, Lizard Lounge, and Empire Dancebar, McPherson never got stuck in a rut. He always looked forward and mixed beautifully between new wave, new beat, synth-pop, industrial, techno, Manchester indie-dance, hip-hop, and more. Sundays at Limelight was his final DJ residency, and the one at which he played most across-the-board.

“I was once told by a fellow DJ, Terry ‘TK’ Kelly, that I had been able to carve out a unique space for myself because I had one foot in the guitar world and another in that of the disco,” says McPherson. “Such diversity has become quite commonplace now, but I don’t think there were that many jocks doing so back then. Nights were either Top 40 or pretty heavily themed.

“Sundays at Limelight attracted one of the most diverse, open-minded crowds musically that I have experienced. They would happily get down to any of Ministry, White Zombie, Prodigy, The Orb, Primal Scream, Massive Attack, or Bjork. If we got them really wound-up, they would body surf to Metallica, and then I could pull a complete left turn and drop Tom Jones’ ‘It’s Not Unusual‘ or Leo Sayers’ ‘You Make Me Feel Like Dancing.’ They were so much fun to play for!”

Photo © by Steven Lungley. All rights reserved.

Sundays also grew from initial audiences of 100 to 1,500 or more on long weekends, thanks to the promotional efforts of James Kekanovich. Today’s promoters, who may just rely too heavily on Facebook and social media, should take note.

“As Iain’s promoter, over the years I distributed approximately one million invitations for Sundays at Limelight, with most of these extended on a face-to-face basis at concerts and raves,” says Kekanovich, also sharing a favourite Limelight memory.

“As Iain and I are Star Trek fans, an especially memorable moment was when Michael Dorn, otherwise know as Worf, attended a night. I was at the front door greeting people and he came up to ask if he could use the washroom. Of course, I let him in. Like commanding the Enterprise, Iain directed the night from the DJ booth, Worf was in the crowd, observing the Sunday-night dance rituals. Sunday nights at Limelight were an adventure, boldly going where no club night had gone before.”

Dancers at PURE Wednesdays. Photo courtesy of Jay Futronic.

Who else played/worked there: Limelight was an unlikely bridge over which many a maturing raver ventured into a licensed nightclub. Their transition was, in particular, eased by the highly successful PURE Wednesdays produced by DJs John E and Peter Ivals with DJ/promoter Craig Pettigrew. Beginning in the summer of 1996, PURE ran for four years, with fellow core residents including Myka, Bianchi, Mystical Influence, Sniper, and Big League Chu. House was heard on the main floor, classic house on the second while from the rooftop patio boomed jungle and breaks.

“I noticed the crowds getting older and wanted to bring that rave vibe into a club where you could have a few drinks and listen to great music,” says John E, who produced and played at many of this city’s largest raves as a co-founder of Pleasure Force and a heavily booked DJ. “At one point, it was PURE and Industry holding down the club scene. I think we opened the door for promoters to bring that music into the clubs.

“The start of PURE was slow, but the owner and manager were patient. We hit our stride during the second summer. It was off the hook, with line-ups down to the fire station.”

“The community really embraced us, and came out to not only listen to great music, but to socialize,” adds Pettigrew, who also handed out thousands of flyers in his day. “I think we had a great run largely because we never made the night about the guest DJs—we really focussed on what talent was in Toronto. ”

Adam Freeland DJs at PURE Wednesdays. Photo courtesy of Jay Futronic.

PURE talent was plentiful, with local guests including Nathan Barato, Kenny Glasgow, Jason Palma, Addy, Matt C, Nick Holder, Peter and Tyrone, The Stickmen, and Paranoid Jack.

That said, many global names also graced the night’s booths, with mention made of Adam Freeland, Donald Glaude, DJ Czech, John Acquaviva, DJ Dan, Hipp-E, and Anne Savage.

“We loved Lafleche from Sona Montreal—he always threw down some amazing music and was a crowd favorite,” says Pettigrew. “So many great people played, but I always loved it when John E would get the prime slot. He had an amazing way of playing tracks at the right time, and getting the crowd to explode.”

Limelight was successful for reasons beyond its music. At its heart was also a diverse staff, many of whom would go on to careers in the nightlife industry. Orin Bristol worked as head of security and then assistant manager before going on to run the show at System Soundbar and now works for INK Entertainment. Brothers Michel and Daniel Quintas were long-serving bartenders. (Quintas now owns Annex staple Insomnia Café.)

Bartender Dede Gilser is frequently mentioned, both for being “super friendly and drop-dead gorgeous,” as McPherson says.

Popular Limelight bartender Dede Gilser. Photo courtesy of her.

“I have a lot of great memories of Sunday nights when DJ Iain played, which is surprising due to the amount of JD I consumed at the time,” says Gilser, who worked at Limelight for five years.

“One of my favourite groups of regulars on Sundays featured one sweet kid who, with great regularity, would slam-dance himself into a nose bleed. I’d grab a fresh bar rag with some cool water and wash his face off. It was strangely endearing.

“Also, my very last night at Limelight was a Sunday. Unlike the normal scenario of customer weeping to the bartender, I wept like someone stabbed me.”

PURE Wednesdays flyers courtesy of Craig Pettigrew.

What happened to it: The spirit of Limelight slowly sunk as key people left over time. DJ Iain played his last gig ever on the final Sunday of 1999—cheered on by hundreds of regulars and fêted with a cake, speeches, and sparklers.

Khaimovich, who’d only ever taken two vacations during his eight years, departed in 2001, going on to co-own Insomnia Café with Quintas, consult for a number of downtown clubs and, eventually, open Maple Crescent Farm, where he lives with his children and wife, Kendra Batek.

“She was a shooter girl at Limelight,” says Khaimovich. “Fifteen years later, she’s my boss.”

Many say Limelight lost its spark after Khaimovich’s departure. Rob Marchand and then Arthur Geringas would become managers, but by then owner Konstantinou had turned his attention to other projects, including System Soundbar and the building in which it was housed, all of which he owned.

Limelight closed its doors on January 18, 2003. It was later developed into a club dubbed Afterlife. Today, it is the home of London Tap House where, ironically, Boris Khaimovich works the door on weekends.

James Vandervoort, who has a professional daytime career, has returned to DJing as James St. Bass on occasion.

John E also continues to DJ select dates. He’ll play as part of the Toronto Legends series, alongside Paul Walker, Goldfinger, and Keith Young, at Parlour (270 Adelaide St. W.) on Aug. 24.

Craig Pettigrew is a driving force at both GEM Events and the annual BPM Festival—of which he is a co-founder—in Playa del Carmen, Mexico. Pettigrew recently re-located to Los Angeles where he is set to open underground club Sound come September. His latest production, “No Crash,” sees release on Younan Music at month’s end.

Thank you to Boris Khaimovich, Craig Pettigrew, Dede Gilser, Eric Robertson, Iain McPherson, James Kekanovich, James Vandervoort, and John E Pallotta for sharing their memories. Thanks also to Erin O’Connor, Jay Futronic, and photographer Steven Lungley for the images.

The post Then & Now: Limelight 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 by The Grid online (The GridTO.com) on May 24, 2012.

In the early ‘90s, alternative rock was exploding overground, with the rave scene coming up right behind it. This beloved Adelaide Street club bridged these two movements together in a legitimate, licensed space.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Catch 22 Niteclub, 379 Adelaide W.

Years in operation: 1989-1997

History: While a five-year-lifespan tends to be a decent run for nightclubs in this city, some strike a nerve and manage to go it longer, thanks to an ever-evolving community of supporters. Catch 22 was such a venue.

Located on Adelaide near the corner of Spadina, Catch was slightly off the beaten path as it lay on the edges of the then-developing club district and was a few minutes’ walk south from Queen West. It was opened in November of 1989 by a group of friends—with Pat Violo, Lex van Erem, and Gio Cristiano at the core—in a former storage space on the building’s lowest level.

Photo courtesy of Andy Gfy.

“Lex van Erem had the space and wanted to build a restaurant, but I convinced him it wasn’t a good idea because of its location,” recalls Violo, who had been a manager at RPM nightclub. “I told him it best suited a nightclub. He liked the idea and asked me to be his partner.

“The original idea was to open a club that played only alternative music, and looked very underground. We wanted the music to be the focal point, and it was inspired by CFNY’s format.”

“We wanted to do something that Toronto was missing at that time,” adds Cristiano, a.k.a. DJ Gio. “Klub Domino was gone, Nuts & Bolts was gone, The Silver Crown was gone, so there wasn’t any more really cool alternative places. Thus, Catch 22 was born. We had our own style, and went from punk to techno, from rock to ska.”

Artist and star Catch bartender Suzette Cooper. Photo courtesy of Andy Gfy.

Inspired by the open approach of revered alt club Nuts & Bolts, which had closed just the year before, Catch 22 had a similarly industrial feel. Customers entered through a steel door—having first passed by a painted mural of the Silver Surfer and a street-level caged window sometimes occupied by go-go dancers—and walked down into a mid-sized, L-shaped room. The long, concrete bar boasted a mosaic glass counter created by artist and star Catch bartender Suzette Cooper while the club itself was adorned in sheet-metal designs. This was the epitome of 1990s alternative chic, made more comfortable by seating areas, a pool table, and Catch 22’s notoriously friendly staff.

Front area of Catch 22. Photo courtesy of Andy Gfy.

The club’s raised DJ booth and shiny, slippery stainless steel dancefloor—which, contrary to rumour, did not come from Nuts & Bolts—were focal points and its sound was crisp.

“The sound kicked ass and was specially designed for the place,” emphasizes Cristiano. “The lighting was crazy as well. I remember we had this robotic piece right in the middle of the dancefloor that would go up and down, and move side to side. It looked like the planet Saturn.”

Catch 22 dancefloor. Photo courtesy of Andy Gfy.

 Why it was important: A decidedly underground dance club, Catch 22 was both influential and welcoming. A progressive approach to music programming lay at its core and, as a result, the crowds who came out were open-minded.

“Catch was full of people who were into alternative music—not goths, not rockers, but people who lay somewhere in the middle,” says Andy Gfy, an early Catch 22 customer who became one of its key staff, serving as doorman, bartender or Mr. Fixit as required. “The people who came to Catch came to dance. The crowd was no attitude; I never heard anyone making fun or teasing. Catch 22, to me, was a bunch of black sheep herded together.”

Andy Gfy (left) with Rob the lighting guy. Photo courtesy of Gfy.

Early on, the club’s programming included a punk Wednesday hosted and DJed by CIUT’s Mopa Dean, also the lead singer of the band Armed and Hammered, who frequently performed. The night later gave way to a long-running alt and industrial night DJed by Rono Box and hosted by Andy Gfy.

DJ Gio held down Fridays and Saturdays for some time. A popular and diverse DJ who also came to be known for his nights at The Phoenix and Klub Max, Cristiano had his ear to the ground. He and DJ Hanna epitomized the Catch approach with their Hell’s Kitchen Fridays.

“Musically, we covered a lot of ground, from psychedelic stuff to big beat, techno, jungle, grunge, alternative—anything and everything that was not getting played on the radio except for some stuff being played on 102.1 [a.k.a. CFNY],” says Cristiano.

Full disclosure: I took over Fridays from Cristiano and crew in October of 1993, when I launched and DJed the mixed queer alt night BENT, which ran for almost two years. I appreciate the men of Catch 22 to this day for their support of my programming ideas, which ranged from live bands to cabarets, leather parties to film-fest gatherings, queer community fundraisers and loads more.

The fashions at Catch 22 were varied. Photo courtesy of Andy Gfy.

But the DJ who is most strongly associated with Catch 22’s early years and success is one Craig Beesack, a gifted club jock who would also become a beloved CFNY host. Beesack started off as the Thursday-night resident, working with infamous promoter Billy X, and was moved to Saturday nights in 1990. Cristiano had caught word that Beesack would soon host the program Warming Up the House on CFNY early Saturday eves—directly before Chris Sheppard’s infamous Club 102 live-to-air—and so the DJ would run from radio station to nightclub. He brought a sizable audience with him.

“That’s when the magic really started,” says Cristiano. “We got so slammed on Saturday nights. Mr. Beesack and his crew really made that place the best alternative the city had seen in a long time. I have so much respect for the guy. Craig played stuff from 1000 Homo DJs to Metallica, Testone to Bodycount, Stereo MCs and Nine Inch Nails. Everything was perfectly formatted and beat-mixed, if you can believe that.”

“Beesack was the man!” agrees Don Berns, who was then CFNY’s Program Director. “Craig was a totally unique DJ who combined industrial and heavier four-on-the-floor techno into a seamless mix that gave his night at Catch a unique flavor, and also made it very different from his weekly alt-rock night at The Cotton Club in Markham. His knowledge of the music, selection, and skills in playing it were the reasons I hired him to create Warming Up The House.

“I’m not a club person and have never enjoyed hanging out—except at Catch,” adds Berns, now an actor who also spins occasionally under his rave name of Dr. Trance. “Something about the underground vibe and the people there resonated with me. Catch 22 was the only club that had the vibe of a couple of underground NYC clubs I’d been to in the ’70s: dark, loud, cool people, cooler music.

“My friend Martin and I got into a pretty regular routine in 1990-91: spend Saturday night at Catch and then go to 23 Hop to continue the party with the Exodus boys. Once the raves got into high gear and we both joined the Nitrous crew, we eventually drifted away from that routine. But for nine months or so, Catch was an integral part of my social life. I would always discover interesting new music when Beesack was on the decks.” (Unfortunately, no one I interviewed for this story had a current contact for Craig Beesack and, as such, he could not be reached for comment.)

There was, in fact, a very pronounced overlap between some early 1990s alternative clubs in Toronto and the roots of what would become our massive rave scene. Catch 22 played an integral role, not only with the music its DJs played, but also by hosting electronic-music events that ran Saturday afterhours through to Sunday night.

Iain McPherson a.k.a. the pioneering DJ Iain who held residencies at clubs like Nuts & Bolts, OZ, and Limelight, and was a founder of the original Nitrous rave crew—initially came to Catch as a Saturday late-night rave DJ. He became the main Saturday club resident for most of 1993, playing a mix of alt, industrial, and new electronic dance music alongside friend and innovative DJ James Kekanovich.

“I think it was only natural that the early edgy production styles of rave music would find a sympathetic ear in the more open-minded audiences of alternative music,” says McPherson. “Despite its up-tempo disco underpinnings, the soundscapes of early rave screamed ‘Pay attention to me! I’m new, adventurous and often aggressive!’ How perfect for alternative crowds.”

Chris Twomey (left) with UK junglists DJ Kenny Ken and MC Fearless. Photo courtesy of Mary Ireton and Joan Tulloch.

Not only did Catch 22 help introduce club-goers to new forms of electronic dance music—especially breaks, drum ‘n’ bass and techno—it also provided a licensed, stable space for raves when the scene was in its infancy.

Mary Ireton and Joan Tulloch were both familiar faces at Catch. Ireton had worked at Cotton Club with Craig Beesack and followed him downtown to work as a Catch 22 bartender. Tulloch, a fan of industrial music, was a Catch customer from its first week.

They were the force behind a number of Saturday afterhours at Catch “on weekends when there were no raves,” Ireton and Tulloch tell me collectively by email. “There was only a rave every six weeks back then. No club or bar was playing rave music, and they were not willing to give up a weekend night, since they thought there would be no drinkers.”

Mary Ireton and Joan Tulloch. Photo courtesy of them.

DJ Mark Oliver (left) and friend at Majic Mondays. Photo courtesy of Andy Gfy.

The two were given Mondays at Catch 22. Majic Mondays were truly that, from the time they opened in September 1993 until the club’s closing in 1997. DJs Mark Oliver and Dr. No were the first to spin, but the line-up was different each week. Diverse local rave and EDM bricklayers like John E, Algorithm, James St. Bass, Tim Patrick, Mystical, Medicine Muffin, Terry Kelly, and Czech played alongside international guests who’d stayed in town after a weekend gig, including Mike Huckaby, Kenny Ken, Ellis Dee, L Double, and John ‘00’ Fleming.

“Majic Mondays was a gathering of music lovers of vast tastes and a wide range of ages,” share Ireton and Tulloch. “There was a community of people—all open to these new styles of electronic music. We were unique in that we didn’t just play one sound and Catch 22 was a unique venue for this music as it actually had a bathroom and running water—much more civilized than the warehouses that were being used for some of the raves!”

A collage of Majic Mondays flyers. Photo courtesy of Mary Ireton and Joan Tulloch.

DJs who appeared at Majic Mondays. Photo courtesy of Mary Ireton and Joan Tulloch.

Who else played/worked there: Catch 22 was home to a few generations of local alt DJs who would go on to break new music and set the pace wherever they played.

“The DJs that came through Catch were some of the most influential in Toronto’s alternative scene,” agrees Mike Mckinlay a.k.a. DJ Michael X, who played a mix of industrial, goth, new wave, new rock, and Britpop at his X-Isle Thursdays and Rip Rig and Panic Saturdays.

“Craig Beesak, DJ Iain, Rono Box, DJ Jürgen, Die J Mars—all of these guys were changing the music scene and upshot the levels of what was happening in the clubs. Catch was one step for them in their evolutions. The club kept their customers happy by always looking for something new or different.”

Die J Mars in the DJ booth. Photo courtesy of Andy Gfy.

DJ Jeff Caldwell

DJ Jürgen held down Industrial Strength Thursdays with the late Martin Streek, and then on his own, after Mckinlay’s X-Isle concluded. Mars—a Catch Friday resident after me—moved to New York and developed an impressive career as DJ, producer, remixer, and fashionista. Jeff Caldwell a.k.a. Jeff C was a much-loved Saturday resident later in Catch 22’s history, while many other top alt locals, including Shawn Macdonald, DJ Shannon, DJ Dwight, and Paul Dhingra all made good use of the Catch booth.

Martin Streek (left) and friends at Catch 22. Photo courtesy of Andy Gfy.

“You see, everybody wanted to be a part of that place,” states Gio Cristiano. “We had no problem finding talent. Everybody did it for the music and to give back to the scene. To this day, I really respect everything that everybody did at Catch; everybody was so different, but so, so good.”

“I remember walking in to Catch and finding guys like Marilyn Manson, Trent Reznor, and Pop Will Eat Itself in there,” he adds. “Also, many members of Cirque de Soleil when they did their first show in T.O. They hung out because they loved our bar and staff, especially Suzette. She was the best bartender in the city at that time.”

“Catch 22’s bar and door staff were legendary and wonderful,” adds McPherson. “The place had a lovely, comfortable, community vibe to it.”

Paul, a.k.a. Rave Master. Photo courtesy of Andy Gfy.

Like many I spoke with, McPherson’s former DJ partner James Kekanovich makes special mention of Catch 22’s venerable doorman Paul a.k.a. Rave Master.

“Paul was the first touch point when entering the club, and his understanding of the scene being created there was an essential component to the experience. He was a familiar face and really knew the crowd.”

Staff would have to contend with only one big recurring problem.

“The dancefloor would go out of control when Ministry came on,” recalls Andy Gfy. “People just flew everywhere. Pat used to freak out about all the broken glass; the floor was covered in it. Eventually, it was decided that we couldn’t play Ministry or Rage Against the Machine between 12:30 and 1 a.m. [then last call in bars].”

Flyer for the final event, courtesy of Christy Washer.

What happened to it: In 1997, Catch 22’s owners found that the building’s landlord would not renew the lease. The club closed with a bash on May 31. 379 Adelaide West was soon renovated into the office building that exists today.

379 Adelaide St. W., as it appears today.

Pat Violo, in association with Liberty Group, opened infamous live-music bar and alternative dance club Velvet Underground at 510 Queen St. W. Many Catch 22 alumni can be found there, including Andy Gfy on bar and Paul a.k.a. Rave Master at the door.

There was a Catch 22 reunion party held last year, with DJs Mars, Jürgen and Jeff C, with talk of future events. A related Facebook group keeps the Catch community connected.

Thank-you to all those interviewed, as well as to Christy Washer and Tim Barraball for their contributions.

The post Then & Now: Catch 22 appeared first on Then and Now: Toronto Nightlife History.

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

As Clubland boomed at the turn of the millennium, this beloved Queen West space provided a big-room experience in an intimate, underground atmosphere—but it ultimately became a victim of its own success.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Element Bar, 553 Queen W.

Years in operation: 1999-2004

History: In the late 1990s, Toronto’s rave and house music scenes were booming. Raves attracted audiences of multiple thousands while even licensed clubs catering to underground tastes tended to hold at least 800. The Entertainment District was littered with venues—most of them commercial and unadventurous—while the College and Ossington strips had not yet developed into hotspots for small to mid-sized venues.

In this environment, a group of friends rented a decidedly intimate space on Queen, between Spadina and Bathurst, that had been home to popular pool hall Behind the Eight Ball and, briefly, 24/7 Billiards. The address was also known for after-hours parties on its top floor, dubbed Zodiac.

Tony Mutch, Marcus Boekelman, and their silent partner Patrik Xuereb all met in high school. By their late 20s, Boekelman and Mutch had both produced parties, with Boekelman having experienced Ibiza and London and promoted events in Toronto featuring electronic dance-music stars like Paul Oakenfold.

“Tony and I would fly to N.Y.C. for the weekend just to see Danny Tenaglia spin at The Tunnel or Sasha and Digweed at Twilo,” Boekelman recalls. “It all seemed so new and fresh, with techno and house gaining in popularity. This was a very exciting time, and you really felt like something culturally important was going on that belonged to our generation.”

This all set the stage for what would become Element Bar. The goals were simple.

“We were inspired by the energy of Toronto’s rave scene and by Industry nightclub, and wanted to bring select local DJs and monthly international guests to an environment that was intimate and underground,” explains Mutch.

“We wanted to create a place where you could hear the music we loved in a more comfortable, warm environment, and legally get a drink,” says Boekelman. “I remember going to Montreal a lot at the time, and there were a few bars that perfected this model: a great night out without taking it over the top, where you could hang with your friends and dance. The bigger parties were fun, but some nights you didn’t feel like the crowds, the lineups, uncertainties, and sketchiness.

“The Element space became available, and we saw an opportunity to create a little bar-club with big-room sound.”

Element opened on December 11, 1999 and immediately drew dancers to a stretch of Queen West not generally known for house music.

Opening night at Element Bar. Crowd (above), DJ Andy Roberts (below). Photos courtesy of Tony Mutch.

Why it was important: With a total legal capacity of roughly 300 people, Element was an unpretentious and versatile two-floor venue. The bar’s intimacy would be both a key attraction and, ultimately, its downfall. Other musically related Toronto clubs of the time—from Roxy Blu to System Soundbar were thriving. Element served as a good warm-up (or comedown) spot while also a great all-night hangout for seasoned clubbers and diverse bar-hoppers alike. It also filled a niche when Industry closed just eight months after Element opened.

“The idea was not to replace Industry, but to recreate a similar vibe in a more intimate space,” recalls AnnMarie McCullough a.k.a. DJ Amtrak, a fellow high-school friend of Element’s three owners who also was one of the club’s core weekend residents throughout its history.

“I feel like Element was exactly what was needed at that time, and I remember being so grateful that it happened right when it did. Having come through the rave scene, I was glad to be among a slightly older, more mature crowd that still wanted to dance, but was there for the music.”

Opening night at Element Bar. Bartender Alison Stevens (above), DJ Sneak (below). Photos courtesy of Tony Mutch.

Painted baby blue and orange, Element had a retro-modern feel, with a circuit-board mural running the entire wall length upstairs where globe lights hung and a vintage record player greeted passersby in the window. The upstairs was spacious and chill while downstairs was dark, sweaty and pounding, thanks to a sizable system designed by Apex Sound.

“Element had two distinct personalities,” says Mutch. “The music on the main floor was usually loungey vocal house. The downstairs was another world altogether—an alter ego. It was always very dark, very loud, hot, and smoky. The music was aggressive hard house or tech house. It was full sensory overload. The wood walls and floors and low ceiling resonated like you were standing inside a speaker cabinet. Anyone would feel comfortable on the main floor, but only seasoned partiers would understand the downstairs.”

“We spent most of our budget on the sound, not the décor, because that’s what we cared about most,” adds Boekelman. “One of the things that set us apart then was our DJ-booth placement. We put the DJ right on the dancefloor, not hidden away in some other tiny room or up on a pedestal like in many other clubs. The DJ was ‘the show,’ and you could literally reach out and touch them or make eye contact and say, ‘Hi, nice mix.’

“It was amazing to see some of these DJs so up close, working at their craft, especially then when vinyl was still the best choice. Dance-music people love to watch a DJ expertly handle a mix; it’s an art form, and if they get it right you show your appreciation. I think we were a popular place to play among DJs themselves because of this interaction with the crowd.”

Element may have been small, but many big-name international talents went out of their way to play there. Booking agents would place touring DJs at Element on a Friday, and they’d play for more cash elsewhere on a Saturday. Some chose to make surprise late-night appearances for fun, after earlier sets elsewhere.

“The international talent was amazing,” says McCullough, who also had a hand in bookings. “Everyone played at Element, with surprise sets from Sasha [of Sasha and Digweed], Nick Warren, and Sneak all in the first year.”

DJ Ludikris at Element. Photo courtesy of Tony Mutch.

That said, at its core, Element was a showcase of Toronto house and techno talent. Open Wednesdays through Saturdays, with special events on Sundays, the bar featured key local residents including Andy Roberts, Kenny Glasgow, Ludikris, Gryphon, Nick Holder, Evil P, Peter and Tyrone, Angel and Cullen, and DJ Krista. I also played monthly in Element’s later years.

“Given that Toronto had an abundance of talent, it was a natural fit to promote it,” says Mutch. “We were very selective, and tried to be true to our house and tech-house format.”

Communicate flyer, courtesy of Wayne Mealing.

Among the most popular of Element’s residencies were Communicate Fridays, which ran from September 2001 until just before the club’s closing. Produced by brothers Steve and Wayne Mealing a.k.a. DJs Stretch & Hooker—then co-owners of massive rave production company LifeForce—Communicate also featured co-residents Myka and Tim Patrick.

“We were known to play it loud,” says Wayne Mealing a.k.a. Hooker. “I remember nights in the winter when the upstairs would get packed, and the front window would be a sweaty, foggy mess. We’d get carried away, blast big party tracks, and end up having a mini-rave on the first floor. It was great to be upstairs or down.”

“Communicate was a locals-driven night so we didn’t have many guests,” Mealing recalls. “However, we did have Donald Glaude play on our third week, and it was off the hook. The party was amazing on both floors.”

“That was one of the most memorable nights for me,” says Boekelman. “Donald was just killing it, and the place was rammed. People were going nuts that night, with their hands in the air. It was so hot and sweaty, it felt like it was raining in the room. I saw one girl dancing and crying and screaming and laughing all at the same time. That night was magic.”

Most of all, Communicate was a chance to hear Toronto DJs who would normally be found playing at much larger venues—like Turbo, System Soundbar and raves galore—stretch out their sounds. Mealing explains why he thinks the bar’s format worked.

“Element was special because it offered something that Toronto was short on: it was intimate, affordable, a great place to meet people as a starting point of a night, and it also usually ran to 4 a.m. Element was very welcoming—stress- and attitude-free.”

“Element was around during one of the city’s golden eras for house, and there was a lot happening in Toronto for this kind of music,” adds Dino Demopoulos, who played vocal and deep house alongside brother Terry during an earlier Friday residency. “What Element got right was a tight focus on keeping things pure, without too many frills. It was a fun little club that didn’t take itself too seriously.

“People often tell me stories about being first exposed to house music at Element,” continues Demopoulos. “Since it was a bar—at least our upstairs floor was—it was a more accessible context to get exposed to this music than a lot of other clubs in the city. Yet, despite its more mainstream appeal, we kept it very deep and pure there. That was cool; since we didn’t have to dumb it down, the energy was consistently so high.”

Element was open to all, with none of the dress code or restrictive door policies that many other dance music clubs of the time put in place to signal “maturity.”

“It wasn’t a beauty contest with a velvet rope and red carpet at the front door,” Boekelman states. “A good vibe in a club has very little to do with how people look; it’s attitude that makes the difference. There was a very diverse mix of people coming together at Element. Everyone was there for the music. My girlfriend’s dad came by for a visit one night, and spent the entire evening on the dancefloor.”

Tony Mutch, DJ Amtrak and Marcus Boekelman.
Photo courtesy of AnnMarie McCullough a.k.a. DJ Amtrak.

Who else played/worked there: Element Bar had a friendly, inviting vibe that extended beyond its size. Security was minimal, physical fights didn’t seem to happen, and the bar’s staff was instrumental to its appeal.

“Most of the staff was there for the four full years of Element,” says Mutch. “They were loyal, and gave Element a big part of its personality.”

“I remember that it was joining a family rather than just a job,” says Julian Reyes, who worked as both head bartender and manager during Element’s run. “The core group of people was there because of already established relationships, and if you were to be hired, you needed to have a genuine interest in house music. I truly believe that we welcomed people into the scene with open arms, and that energy was definitely infectious.

Other bartenders, including Alyssa Daniels, Grace Van Berkum, “Disco” Dave Fraser, Marty Smits, and Francesca Zielinski also doubled as hosts.

“I remember Element as having a real family vibe to it,” confirms Zielinski. “All the regulars and staff were connected on a personal level, and really loved the music. It wasn’t about being seen or what people were wearing; it was truly about the music.”

On that note, many other prominent T.O. DJs held it down on one, or both, of Element’s floors. On the tech tip, Fukhouse produced parties featuring DJs like Ian Guthrie, Eric Downer, and The Dukes while 2012 JUNO nominee Arthur Oskan played a live P.A. at Element in 2003.

Mark Scaife and Matt Coleridge—then infamous for their Breathe night at System—played regularly, as did established house DJ/producer Jason Hodges, and other local house talents like Mike Gleeson and Mat Lunnen. The Activate crew bumped breaks on Wednesdays during Element’s final year, with DJs including Evan G, Red Turtle, and Dave Saddler.

A little known fact is that Element was also a hip-hop haven on select nights, with DJ Fase having held down Touch Thursdays and then Sundays with co-resident DJ Hangman. In 2002, Fase and DJ Grouch even hosted Toronto’s first underground hip-hop live-to-air, with Lifted Wednedays broadcast as part of CIUT’s Project Bounce program. (Hear a Lifted set here.)

As for international guests, the extensive and impressive list also includes DJ Dan, Doc Martin, DJ Heather, Hector Romero, Josh Wink, Steve Lawler, Ellen Allien, Marco Carola, Steve Bug, Speedy J, and Detroit techno godfather Derrick May, who headlined on the August long weekend of 2001.

“After we made the booking, we were concerned about turnout because the event was on a Sunday,” recalls Mutch. “So we promoted it as free before 11 p.m.. because, ordinarily, we never had a huge turnout before then.

“On that night, the bar was packed by 11 p.m., with no door cover collected. To cover costs, we had to let more people in, but by midnight we were way over capacity, with a massive line out front. That was a red flag to the AGCO [Alcohol and Gaming Commission of Ontario] inspectors who regularly cruised down Queen Street, so they paid us a visit. That over-capacity ticket issued resulted in a 30-day license suspension. Trying to manage capacity was by far the most stressful aspect of the bar business as the penalties were so severe.”

Promoter Gavin ‘Gerbz’ Bryan (co-owner of Industry) on left, hanging at Element. Photo courtesy of Wayne Mealing.

What happened to it: That Derrick May gig was a sign of things to come.

“For me, the club simply outgrew itself,” says Boekelman, who sold his shares in November 2001, leaving Mutch as sole owner. “The brand was bigger than the space. We had constant problems with over-capacity. Many nights, more people would be turned away than actually got in, which wasn’t great for business. Looking back now, we would have done well to relocate to a larger space under the same name.”

By 2003, Element’s crowds became less consistent but the visits by AGCO became more constant. At the end of April 2004, Element’s liquor license was revoked and the bar was forced to close suddenly.

“Element closed because the AGCO would not renew the liquor license,” says Mutch. “The landlord sold the building at the same time, and the space became a clothing store.”

Though neither is now involved in nightlife ventures, Boekelman and Mutch did open resto/lounge Habitat at 735 Queen St. W. in 2002. Many of Element’s resident DJs, including Amtrak, went on to spin there.

“I think most people look back fondly on their time at Element, whether they worked or partied there,” summarizes McCullough, now based in Vancouver. “It was a great club, and I think it left its mark on Toronto’s club scene. Places like Footwork definitely emulate what Element created.”

553 Queen West is currently home to businesses including clothing store Brava on the ground floor and fitness centre Core Studio on the third.

553 Queen West in 2012

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

Article originally published April 12, 2012 by The Grid online (TheGridTO.com).

In the latest edition of her nightlife-history series, Denise Benson revisits the Entertainment District institution that brought underground rave culture to Toronto’s mainstream club crowd at the dawn of the millennium.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: System Soundbar, 117 Peter

Years in operation: 1999-2005

History: System Soundbar was an unlikely home for electronic dance music with a decidedly underground bent. Opened smack dab in the middle of the commercial club district, System was owned by Zisi Konstantinou—former owner/operator of successful Adelaide Street spot Limelight—with his partners Spyros Theoharis and Boris Khaimovich. They hired former Limelight employee Orin Bristol as general manager, and the group worked to develop a plan.

“Zisi purchased the building as a property investment, and we were trying to figure out what to do with the basement as it was just being used as storage space,” shares Bristol. “We spoke about doing a nightclub, but thought it would be a hard sell for a mainstream crowd as it was in a basement.

“At the same time, the city was cracking down on raves and there were less and less spots to do parties in. Because of our Wednesday nights at Limelight [with EDM/rave DJs Craig Pettigrew and John E], we had come to know the guys from [promoters] Lifeforce Industries. Between Craig and them, we talked about doing rave-style events in the space.”

And so Bristol—a club manager with strong vision who now works for INK Entertainment—gained an EDM education. System Soundbar opened on March 18, 1999. Lifeforce Industries, the umbrella organization that produced massive raves under the Dose, Renegades, and Syrous banners, brought underground sounds to the fun-fur and fat-pants crowd on Fridays. Pettigrew and his Metro crew attracted maturing ravers on Saturdays. Other early System weeklies included FungleJunk Tuesdays and Breakfest Sundays. People flocked to the raw space.

“It was a dark, grungy basement nightclub originally,” says Bristol. “We spent very little to get it done because we just weren’t sure what we were going to get. Also, the crowd was coming from raving in warehouses and in fields so only the minimum was necessary.

“It was a huge success—people loved the underground feel and the late-night vibe. Our biggest issue in the first year was the sound. The system wasn’t good enough, and not coming from the genre, we didn’t understand that it was all about the music.”

Though System’s sound would be majorly upgraded over time, the club faced a bigger crisis soon after its first year. Some of the Lifeforce owners became partners in Turbo Nightclub (later known as Sound Emporium) and soon System Soundbar’s core group of weekend promoters all decamped, DJs in tow, to this club around the corner.

According to Bristol, “We mainstream nightclub guys were left to figure it out.“

Lineup outside of System. Photo by Ryan Parks.

Why it was important: System Soundbar operated during a pivotal time for electronic dance music in Toronto. Not only were our massive raves under heavy scrutiny from the law, City, and media, there were very few licensed nightclubs devoted to underground electronics. The Guvernment was the biggie, but its musical focus was limited. The house-heavy Industry Nightclub was waning, and would close in summer 2000.

“System was different because it was its own little animal,” says Deko-ze, a top Toronto DJ who would play at the Soundbar throughout most of its history. “It was a perfect mid-size club, unlike something like The Docks or Guvernment, so it didn’t need to prove something by being big. It was about top quality, forward-thinking vibes and attitudes. System was based around the music.”

Deko-ze DJs at System. Photo by Ryan Parks.

With a legal capacity of 1,100, System Soundbar was an ideal size and fit for a spread of EDM sounds. System offered a new secure spot for aging ravers, and a comfortable entry point for new clubbers to experience underground EDM culture.

“System Soundbar started with the 19-plus old-school rave crowd as ravers started to grow up and turn into clubbers,” agrees Jesse Brown, who worked with the Lifeforce crew in promoting events like FungleJunk, and went on to produce events including the World Electronic Music Festival.

“Later, when almost all the raves had disappeared, System was the place you could still find just about all styles of EDM, and hear the same DJs we would experience in the big warehouses.”

After the departure of System’s first successful weekend nights, a variety of events were tested, but it was through Bristol’s meeting with Patrick Aranain, a.k.a. DJ Evil P, “that we found the guys who would be the foundation for everything that System Soundbar turned into.”

Local talent was placed front and centre as Aranain introduced Bristol to DJs and promoters who launched the weeklies that most clubbers still associate with System Soundbar: d&b and breaks night BodyRoc Tuesdays (later Loose Wednesdays), pioneering progressive-house event Breathe Fridays, and heavy house hitter Bang Saturdays.

“Patrick was a good DJ, a great booker, and an excellent friend,” says Bristol of the DJ who would rule Bang’s booth for its multi-year run, but who passed away in late 2009. “He taught me what I needed to know about this scene to succeed in the following years.”

Bang was a unique house night in that it ran from deep and soulful to funky, tribal, and dark. Frequent guests included Roy Davis Jr., Derrick Carter, and MC Flipside, with Evil P’s co-residents including Dino & Terry, Deep Groove, Lady Linzee, and, in the lounge, Michael Drury.

Dino & Terry with Patrick Aranain a.k.a. Evil P (right). Photo by Ryan Parks.

“Soulful house was making a bit of a resurgence at the time, with songs like “Finally” by KOT bridging a few different scenes,” recalls Dino Demopoulos, who, with brother Terry, was known for deep-house productions and DJ sets in more intimate clubs, like The Living Room, Element, and 5ive.

“It was seen to be a nice complement to the harder stuff that Patrick played, which is why they booked us initially. System was a big club, with a great sound system, and was always pumping with energy so it was a great challenge [for us]. There was a huge range of guest DJs booked to play, from Louie Vega to Bad Boy Bill. Bang was a very consistent night.”

Patrick Aranain also introduced Bristol to promoters Mike Grecco and Jose Rodriguez who, along with DJs Mark Scaife, Deko-ze and, soon after, Luke Fair, and Matt Coleridge, would be responsible for making Breathe Fridays arguably the most influential progressive house weekly in North America.

“The Guvernment was trance, while Industry was house and techno; progressive was an emerging market,” says Bristol. “No one in the city was doing two back-to-back house nights at the time, but we all made it work.”

Matt Coleridge. Photo by Ryan Parks.

“The sound had matured from progressive trance into progressive house with darker, more tribal undertones, and it needed a home,” explains Coleridge, a professional DJ since 1998 who caught his break as part of Breathe. “Much like the way Industry had sought to bring a stable weekly club venue for house music, Breathe looked to accomplish that for progressive house.”

They did so, attracting 800 to 1,000 people each week, with Breathe’s core residents as the main draw.

Mark Scaife. Photo by Ryan Parks.

“If you were there for a full night, you heard a lot of tech house and techno integrated with the progressive, alongside a few big riffs and the more melodic progressive,” details Mark Scaife, a seasoned DJ who held it down during Breathe’s entire four-year run.

“As we built Breathe, it got more structured towards that techy progressive sound, a little more edgy. For a while there, we went pretty dark, just seeing how far we could take it. We had a lot of leeway; people were up for a different sound. Breathe was an experiment that worked really well.”

Breathe worked so well that its resident DJs gained international tour dates and notoriety as influential publications like Mixmag and DJ Magazine wrote about the night. Other Toronto dance clubs also took note and booked more progressive house DJs. Big artists like Deep Dish, Hybrid, and Infusion all graced the Breathe roster, but other guests weren’t so established at the time.

“Steve Lawler, Danny Howells, and Lee Burridge all got their Toronto start at Breathe,” points out Coleridge. “System brought many, many international DJs to Toronto for the first time, DJs who are still regulars in this city. It was also home to a huge number of DJs who, like me, really got their start playing in this city.”

This is something that Orin Bristol remains very proud of.

“Basically, all of us were the little guys,” he states. “We were the mainstream club guys who didn’t initially know anything about the electronic scene, and the smaller DJs and promoters who had never been given an opportunity to be on the front lines. We gathered them all up, put them under one roof, and they flourished.”

Shy FX. Photo by Ryan Parks.

Who else played/worked there: During its near-seven-year-stint, System Soundbar was also a constant home to drum ‘n’ bass. The sound was huge in Toronto, but rarely were d&b DJs given weekly clubs nights, especially in sizable venues. Soon after FungleJunk’s demise, drum ‘n’ bass DJ and Empire Productions promoter Ryan Smith, a.k.a. Ryan Ruckus, came on board. In June of 2001, all-ages drum ‘n’ bass and breaks night BodyRoc was born.

“Aside from making a point to highlight the abundance of amazing talent from right here in Toronto, we brought in big international d&b talent such as Nicky Blackmarket, Teebee, Mickey Finn, Marley Marl, and others,” says Smith. “But it was our first sold-out event with Shy FX and MC Skibadee that had us settle into System nicely. [Listen to a recording here.] I remember a lot of the staff poking fun at the music we played at first but, in little time, we made believers out of most of them.”

Jesse Brown of Destiny (far left) with Ryan Ruckus (far right). Photo courtesy of Brown.

Ryan Smith a.k.a. DJ Ryan Ruckus. Photo by Ryan Parks.

A year later, Smith and Empire switched it up and launched the 19-plus Loose Wednesdays, a weekly that Bristol describes as “The reason why I’ve done d&b events in every club I’ve run since then.”

With rotating resident DJs including Ruckus, Diligence, Mystical Influence, Marcus Visionary, Lush, and Everfresh, and a hip-hop room led by DJ Tasc, Loose was a mid-week hit.

“The enthusiasm and support poured from the top down,” says Destiny Event’s Jesse Brown, who also guested at Loose under the DJ name of originalVIBE. “Orin Bristol loved drum ‘n’ bass and was committed to showing the city how successful this music would become.”

As evidence, System Soundbar and Ryan Ruckus also hosted Loaded Saturdays through all of 2005. It was Toronto’s first-ever drum ‘n’ bass Saturday held in a large main room.

It’s impossible to list all of the local and international DJs who played at System over the years, but promoters including Fukhouse (techno and tech house) and Activate (breaks) certainly produced many other standout events.

DJ Craze and A-Trak (right) at System. Photo by Ryan Parks.

Superfunk at System, December 2005. Photo by Ryan Parks.

Additionally, hip-hop, R&B, and old-school event Superfunk Thursdays—promoted by a crew including Down With Webster’s Dave Ferris and DJed by resident John J—attracted consistently huge crowds for five full years. Top 40 and club anthems were relegated to Monday nights in the warmer half of the year, when System would be filled with foam and hot tubs.

More mainstream crowds were drawn to System by these two nights in particular, causing heated discussion on EDM message boards, as did the flashy renovations put into place in 2004. System fans debated the “mainstreaming” of the club, but there’s no denying that the hundreds of additional people who began attending System after bar hours on weekend nights added to the energy.

Richie Hawtin plays System. Photo by Ryan Parks.

Everyone I spoke to for this article has stories of nights they hold especially dear, with multiple mentions of guest DJs including Richie Hawtin, Barry Weaver, Ed Rush & Optical (hear their FungleJunk set here), A-Trak, and the personable Donald Glaude, who was even game to kill the music one night while a guest proposed to his girlfriend on the dancefloor.

“The whole place erupted with cheers, and then Donald rocked it,” recalls Bristol.

Bristol cites the night when an appearance by Mauro Picotto made him realize “DJs were like rock stars. When he started to DJ, we had to call two security guards to the front of the booth because people were trying to climb up to touch him. People were crying—men and women, it was insane. I’d never heard of this guy before I signed off on the booking the month before.”

Deko-ze, who warmed up for Picotto that night, describes another Breathe special that touched him.

“Sister Bliss, of Faithless, was guesting,” he begins, “She cued up a record and said to me, ‘You might like this next one.’ For the next seven-and-a-half-minutes, the floor was annihilated. It was the new Faithless single, ‘We Come One.’ An hour later, she puts on a record that took the crowd through an intense emotional rollercoaster, brought several people to tears, and made me close my eyes, dance like I was weightless, and shout ‘Yes!’ aloud twice. It was her own demo of ‘Deliver Me.’”

Finally, there is the legendary night when Mark Farina was booked, and a water main in 117 Peter burst. Bristol recounts that 800 people were inside the club, with 300 more in line. Refunds were offered, but Farina would still play. Few people left.

A water main burst on a night Mark Farina DJed. Few people left.

“We did well over 1,400 people,” says Bristol. “The water was to the middle of the dancefloor by the time Rotor Rooter came and shut it off, but people rolled up their pants and danced in it. That was one of our best nights ever.”

This also speaks to the “friends and family vibe” that many use to describe System Soundbar.

“It was a space where you were just accepted—young, white, transgendered, rich, women, black, gay, tall, Asian, old, men, poor, straight, everyone,” Bristol emphasizes. “I have never worked in any environment before where the customers, staff, promoters and DJs were so connected.”

System Soundbar’s final blowout on Dec. 31, 2005. Photo by Ryan Parks.

What happened to it: By 2005, Jesse Brown recalls, “Most nightclubs and bars played Top 40; EDM was on the way down, and hip-hop and R&B were on the way up. System resisted until the end.”

By later 2005, weekend nights were attracting crowds of less than 500.

“Zisi decided at that time it made more sense to be a landlord than the owner of a six-year-old club,” shares Bristol. “He knew development was coming, and all he had to do was hold on and he would make a mint.”

Demolition begins at 117 Peter. Photo courtesy of Orin Bristol.

System Soundbar went out with two large events: a family affair featuring resident DJs from Bang and Breathe on December 23, 2005 and a final New Year’s Eve blowout with DJ Danny Howells.

Konstantinou first sold the club to people who opened short-lived Top 40 spot Embassy. The entire 117 Peter Street building was later sold to developers. It has been demolished to make way for the 36-storey Tableau Condominiums.

117 Peter in April 2012. Photo by Denise Benson.

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

Article originally published March 30, 2012 by The Grid online (TheGridTO.com).

A look back at the ‘80s east-end haunt that imported U.K. rave culture to Toronto, let dancers openly shag on the third floor, and gave a young Gerard Butler his first gig as a doorman.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Tazmanian Ballroom, 99-101 Jarvis

Years in operation: 1987-1990

History: Just as true characters have frequented Toronto’s most memorable nightclubs, they’ve owned them as well. Few have been as influential, audacious, or fanciful as nightlife impresario and restaurateur Johnny Katsuras. Since the late 1970s, the man better known as Johnny K has owned and operated a wide variety of thematic hot spots—often with wife, business partner, and chef Laura Prentice—in areas just off the beaten path, with a lean towards the city’s east end.

In the second half of 1987, Katsuras followed on the success of his establishments—including his long-running, self-titled resto and surprisingly successful Beaches dance bar Krush—by turning attention to Jarvis and Richmond. Here, in an area filled with historic, often underused commercial buildings, Johnny K purchased a three-floor heritage property built in 1898, once known as MacFarlane’s Hotel. It had previously operated as The Jarvis House and then gay bar Club 101 by the Chrysalis Group, also owners of Yorkville mega-club The Copa.

Ever the rebel, Johnny K chose to offer his crowd something closer to downtown, but more seedy than trendy. He’s always been careful to cultivate a sense of adventure and to purchase real estate accordingly.

“Downtown properties are generally filled by people who follow each other, and I never wanted to do that,” says Katsuras today. “My goal was to find empty buildings that I could put a restaurant-club in, because the kind of business that I like to do is not ‘Oh, look at that place—let’s walk in there and eat.’ No. My places are more about ‘I’m not going in there; that doesn’t look right.’ Unless you know. My signage has always been intended to keep people out, not bring them in.”

Inside the Taz. Photos courtesy of David Prentice.

There was no real sign for Tazmanian Ballroom; you found the place by looking for the crowds gathered out front. Inside, hundreds partied on a main floor that had a 1920s-meets-’70s cocktail vibe, complete with black-and-gold paint, velvet curtains, vintage sofas, dimmed chandeliers, and a huge aquarium. The basement level was even darker.

“The Ballroom was free of bells and whistles,” says Johnny K. “It was a nightclub with no light show. It was like a big, old Victorian-mansion house party. I have to admit: part of my inspiration was that I had read about Nell’s in New York and, also, I was a big fan of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, so a lot of the Ballroom was based on it.”

“The main level set the standard for most lounge clubs of today,” says Mark Oliver, who began his career at the Taz on his way to becoming one of Canada’s top DJs.

“The basement was a different vibe altogether,” Oliver adds. “Able to hold perhaps 200, it had a low ceiling, minimal lighting, bass-rattling turbo sound system and lots of bathroom mischief. If the main level was an opulent castle, the basement was certainly its dungeon.”

Advertisement, courtesy of Malcolm Brown.

Why it was important: Tazmanian Ballroom drew a young, beautiful and very fashion-conscious crowd. They were there because of Johnny K’s mix of creativity and cockiness, and his ability to hire talented people who he encouraged to run with their ideas.

“Johnny K was arguably the most charismatic club owner this city has ever seen,” says Oliver, who’d worked as a bus boy at Krush before helping renovate the Ballroom where he would bartend and, eventually, become a star resident DJ.

“Johnny assembled the most eclectic staff I have ever worked with, and he really wasn’t interested in making money off the club. He’d rather have five of the right people in the club than 500 spending money. He was there to have a good time, and this attitude was infectious.”

Put in charge of implementing Johnny K’s vision was David Prentice, Laura’s brother and Katsuras’ right-hand-man. By 24, David had run the rock department at Sam The Record Man for years, had a background in advertising and marketing, and was deeply influenced by a stay in London where he was wowed by club DJs mixing deep house, disco and soul. He became Tazmanian Ballroom’s Marketing and Promotions Director and much more.

“Johnny gave me free rein to run the club as I saw fit,” says David. “He was very progressive and aggressive with culture. He’s not a guy who likes to sit down and have meetings. He’s much more ‘Let’s do it.’ I credit John with re-defining the nightlife scene in Toronto—with the help of many people.”

Initially open only Saturdays and for special events, Tazmanian Ballroom attracted large crowds through equal parts programming and exclusivity. At a time when most licensed dance clubs in Toronto—think The Diamond, RPM, The Copa or Big Bop—were sizable and thus required large crowds to stay afloat, the smaller Ballroom took a cue from trendy New York clubs and implemented a stringent door policy.

“It wasn’t a first-come, first-served situation,” says Johnny K. “I spent a lot of time and effort picking the right guys to do the door; they had to understand how to see something in somebody. It wasn’t about expensive clothes; it was about what people chose to wear. You could be a little awkward, but you could still get in because you had something. It was about individualism rather than following the crowd.”

“Guys would roll up in Lamborghinis, be turned away and told they may want to try showing up in a cab the next time,” recalls Oliver. “Some people would try for weeks, trying different outfits and hairstyles just to gain entry. There were no dress-code rules; it was all about having the right mix of people inside.”

“Tazmanian Ballroom was a leading-edge type of scene, with many racially mixed couples, straight and gay,” adds Michele Geister, then a MuchMusic producer who moonlighted in the Ballroom’s DJ booth. “Young professionals mixed with club kids and budding DJs. There was a real unity to the patrons singing and getting down in the house party-like atmosphere that wasn’t duplicated anywhere else in T.Dot.”

Through her work at Much, including as a producer/director of pioneering programs Soul in the City and RapCity, Geister had extensive knowledge of hip-hop, which she mixed at the Ballroom with house, acid, techno, funk and reggae.

She could frequently be found playing alongside good friend Karen Young (sometimes under the handles ForceMG and FunKY). Both were largely influenced by CKLN programs Fantastic Voyage and Dave’s Dance Music, and were dancefloor devotees of the Twilight Zone.

“David Prentice liked our enthusiasm and selections, and offered us a gig in the basement,” Young recalls. “So we co-gigged for a while, then split to play separately. I played Saturday nights, Michele played Friday. Back then, we lugged 50-to-100 pounds of vinyl into a taxi in our lycra miniskirts and high heels.

“Part of the charm of the Taz was that it was not a super-slick club like The Copa or RPM,” says Young, a Ballroom resident for more than a year. “It had terrible DJ booths and if people danced right in front of the booth area, the records would jump. It was more like how a party at your house would be in terms of set-up. The basement was just a dark room with mirrors, a bar and no furniture. It was totally underground, with a little old-school.” [Post publication, Young compiled this selection of sounds she played at the Taz.]

These sounds—coupled with the rare groove, disco, and rock played upstairs by David Prentice and his talented then-girlfriend Heather Lawrence—made the Taz stand out.

“Musically, it was pretty controversial for its time in Toronto,” says Prentice. “It took a couple of months for people to catch onto it. I’ll credit the Assoon brothers and Twilight Zone though, because they were doing everything I’d heard while in London, and John gave me the opportunity to bring all of that to a more commercial venue.”

A new phase began when Mark Oliver moved from bouncing between bartending and DJing upstairs or warming things up in the basement to DJing each weekend.

“I played on the main level at first, as did Heather Lawrence,” says Oliver. “When she was playing, I would tend one of the bars. I was making $500 a night in tips at the bar, but I really only wanted to DJ, even for the going rate of $45 a night. It was the Summer of Love in the UK in 1988, and I felt an incredible urge to spread the love on this side of the pond.

“From that point on, I played house in the basement every Friday and Saturday. The crowd was very diverse, from b-boys to fashionistas. We were jacking to the new acid-house sounds for the first time, so it was very exciting and special.” (For those keeping track, this was well before Oliver would produce raves under the Exodus collective banner or fill the back room of the Cameron with his Acid Jazz Wednesdays.)

Rock & Roll Fag Bar flyer courtesy of Malcolm Brown.

By this point, Tazmanian Ballroom was packed with very different crowds each weekend. Fridays had opened as Rock & Roll Fag Bar early in 1988 when Maxwell Blandford, a former manager at Nuts & Bolts, was lured from his job at The Copa to become the Ballroom’s new promo director.

“I liked the idea of doing a gay night in a straight club as it really was not being done much in Toronto at that time,” says Blandford. “I also thought the music in the Toronto gay scene was so lame and Rock & Roll Fag Bar was a great opportunity to launch something new.”

Although there was initial controversy surrounding its name—complete with CBC coverage and letters of complaint in a local weekly—Rock & Roll Fag Bar was an instant success.

“The night had no glitz, yet it was so fabulous with its boudoir decoration,” Blandford enthuses. “It was two floors, with Heather and David spinning rock and rare groove upstairs while Mark played house downstairs. Rock & Roll Fag Bar had many distinct elements, but music was first and foremost.

Courtesy of Maxwell Blandford

“We also had sex, and loads of it. It started out on Fridays when the customers broke down the door to the third floor. It was a series of abandoned rooms—the venue had been a brothel decades before—and each filled up. There could be 150 guys up there. We put a bar in and gave out condoms.

“As repressive as the liquor laws were at that time, so was sex because of AIDS. So we offered a wild, spontaneous place to have sex and then go back downstairs and dance. Sex on the third floor was not exclusive to the gay night either. It became a very popular place for a quickie on Saturdays too, until we eventually closed the floor.

“Breaking the rules was one of the most significant features of the Taz,” concludes Blandford, now living in Miami and marketing high-end South Beach spots including The Forge. “Johnny was a ‘bad boy’ and attached himself to others. The more different and edgy you were, the better your events.”

“There weren’t a lot of rules at the Taz,” agrees Karen Young. “Upstairs, people would dance on the bar and swing from the ceiling. One time they brought down the sprinkler system. There always seemed to be men in the ladies’ washroom, and a stinky mop closet in the basement was another favourite shagging spot.”

Audacity was a Taz trademark.

“Those considered freaks who were banished from other clubs were encouraged at the Ballroom; the wilder, the better,” says Oliver. “Dallas, a bartender, would blow fire across the length of the bar a few times a night. I remember driving my Vespa around in circles through the club while there were still people dancing.

“A good friend of mine, Gerry from Scotland, was living here at the time, and kept asking me to find him a job. I finally got him in as a doorman. The original doorman, Greg, was nicknamed ‘Hollywood,’ but it was Gerry who went on to become the real Hollywood. He is now more commonly known as Gerard Butler.”

Maxwell Blandford (left) with Towa Tei and Super DJ Dmitri of Deee-Lite, and their tour manager.
Photo courtesy of Blanford.

Who else played/worked there: Special events at the Ballroom included soirees hosted by infamous hair stylist Diva, vogue balls hosted by designers Dean and Dan of dSquared, and early Fetish Nights.

Super DJ Dmitri of Deee-Lite played the opening of Rock & Roll Fag Bar while a handful of early hip-hop artists also performed at the Taz.

“David Prentice loved Spoonie Gee, and brought him to the Ballroom, as he later did Philly rapper Schoolly D and his DJ Code Money,” Geister recalls. “Although both times the turnout wasn’t great, they were legendary, up-close experiences for those in attendance.”

Photo courtesy of Malcolm Brown.

Just as risks were taken in programming, Johnny K invested in other arts endeavours, including as publisher of I.C.E. magazine, a heavily stylized arts, music, and fashion publication distributed for free in Katsuras-owned venues and across much of the country.

Staffed largely by Tazmanian Ballroom employees—with David Prentice as Editor, Blandford as Managing Editor, and Malcolm Brown as Art Director—I.C.E. won design awards and featured early photography by artists including Floria Sigismondi and Lisa Mann.

“We wanted a magazine that reflected our vibe, and there was a market for it,” says Brown, who then also bartended at the Ballroom, as did his brother, photographer Adrian Brown.

“Johnny had a lot of money at that time, and was able to handle the huge expenses that our I.C.E. was amassing. Everyone supplemented the little pay we made at the magazine by working in Johnny’s clubs. By that time, he also had The Claremont Hotel, and King Curtis, Liberty Restaurant, and The 4th and 5th all in the same building as I.C.E. at The Liberty.

“We were all very young and Johnny would let people swim on our own,” says Brown, who went on to design or art direct at magazines including Shift, Raygun, and Outpost. “The more outrageous an idea, the more he would support it. The magazine collapsed as money ran out, but anyone associated with it had a very special experience thanks to Johnny K.”

The I.C.E. staff in the May 27, 1989 edition of the Toronto Sun. Courtesy of Maxwell Blandford.

What happened to it: Tazmanian Ballroom ran for little more than two years, but went out with a bang in early 1990.

“Things were even crazier than usual at the closing party,” says Oliver. “The fire department showed up, and I’ll never forget the looks on their faces when they came in the basement where I was spinning. The ceiling was on the verge of collapse from the mayhem.”

“I remember being at the last night very, very late and being ushered out by firemen who had had declared the building unsafe,” corroborates Geister. “What had been a legendary scene partied right to the end. I’m happy that I was a part of it, and got to experience what I believe were the real golden years of nightclubbing in Toronto.”

She, along with Oliver, Blandford, Young, and much of the Ballroom staff went on to work at various rooms within Johnny K’s nearby Liberty building.

Toronto’s real estate market crashed in 1989, and Johnny K was never one to let decisions linger. He sold the Jarvis building to the Ken Thomson family, who later sold it to Kiosk Furniture. It was boarded up for some time, later used for warehousing and storage, and opened late 2011 as the Toronto location of furniture and design store Poliform.

Johnny K went on to open numerous restaurants and lounges, most notably Mrs. Smith’s Cocktail Party, Lolita’s Lust, and Tomi-Kro, which closed suddenly last October. He and Laura Prentice now operate The Playpen at Gerrard and Carlaw.

David Prentice now lives in St. Catharines with his family, and owns two outposts of the Kilt & Clover pub.

The Taz spirit is carried on in the form of Tazmania Ballroom, a Hong Kong lounge and club opened by Gilbert Yeung, a former regular at the Toronto location.

Postscript: Sadly, Johnny Katsuras passed away following a battle with cancer in late September, 2014. His influence on Toronto’s culinary and nightlife scenes will long be felt.

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

Article originally published January 19, 2012 by The Grid online (TheGridTO.com).

Denise Benson revisits the three-storey super-club that was at the epicentre of Toronto’s early ‘90s Entertainment District explosion.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Klub Max, 52 Peter (now 56 Blue Jays Way)

Years in operation: 1990-1994

History: This is a tale of a changing Toronto. It tells the story of an historic area in transition, mere years before it came to serve as the meeting point for the touristy and the trendy. Also at its centre is a man who became one of this city’s most successful nightlife entrepreneurs, as well as a number of our most recognized DJs.

52 Peter Street was once the George Crookshank House. Built in the 1830s, it’s one of the street’s oldest buildings and was designated an historic site under the Ontario Heritage Act. But its beautiful brick frontage would be obscured by modern smoked glass and signage when Nick Di Donato and his Liberty Entertainment Group renovated it extensively at the end of the 1980s to open, at first, a single-level P.M. Toronto sports bar and restaurant.

In 1990, Di Donato and colleague Angelo Belluz developed the property into the area’s first full-on dance club—a three-floor funhouse named Klub Max. It took vision—and nerve—to open a large club there at the time.

“This was an industrial area where there were large vacant spaces—very industrial commercial spaces and no residential,” recalls Di Donato. “It was a perfect club area. The proximity to SkyDome also provided an influx of people on game and concert nights, as well as post-event parties.

“I was inspired by the club scene in New York City’s Meatpacking District, like Mars Club, and wanted to bring that energy to Toronto,” he explains. “Klub Max was one of only three clubs in the city with a capacity of over 1,100.”

Klub Max ad in EYE Weekly

Why it was important: Sandwiched between a Don Cherry’s Grapevine on its north end and a restaurant-cum-karaoke bar to its south (Wayne Gretzky’s restaurant didn’t open across the street until 1993), Klub Max was not certifiably cool or fashionable, but it was genuinely interesting. It was a club where suburbanites and downtowners of varying ages met on the dancefloor, largely thanks to the decidedly different musical formats found within.

“Klub Max was an industry leader,” says Di Donato. “It was one of the city’s first multi-level clubs; in essence, it was three clubs in one, targeting an audience of diverse music preferences, but with a desire to be in a large club atmosphere. People loved to move from one room to another, experiencing a different vibe and sound in each.”

With Di Donato and Belluz initially at its helm, Klub Max featured rock and alternative on its third tier; dance music pounded out of the main floor’s massive soundsystem; and the basement ranged from grunge to rave to hip-hop, depending on night.

Chris Pack (CFNY producer), Martin Streek (CFNY DJ), “Brother Bill” (CFNY DJ) and Angelo Belluz (Klub Max co-owner). Photo by Steven Lungley (http://stevenlungley.com/)

“This club was my first foray into the large nightclub business, and it was where I gained my experience to develop one of Toronto’s longest-running nightclubs, The Phoenix Concert Theatre,” emphasizes Di Donato, now President and CEO of Liberty Entertainment Group.

Di Donato left Klub Max to open The Phoenix as a live concert space and dance club in November of 1992. Angelo Gerardi and Tony Antonucci bought him out to join Belluz in developing Max.

It’s interesting to note that the majority of DJs I spoke with—including some who began spinning at Max as far back as 1990-1991—did not meet Di Donato until years later, when he and brother Pat hired them to play at subsequent Liberty Group ventures. No matter. What is clear is that many now big-name Toronto DJs got their start—or firmed up their followings—at Klub Max. In its early years, especially, the venue had an underground vibe.

One of the most-discussed Max events to this day is Deep Forest, an all-ages Sunday party that ran in the summers of 1990 through 1993. That’s where a teenage DJ Tricky Moreira got his professional start, initially playing alongside DJ Tin-Tin, and then later with Neil & Cain, on the main floor while the Red Flame crew rinsed reggae upstairs and DJX bumped hip-hop in the basement. Go-go dancers did their thing against the black-and-silver décor while house and techno lovers slid across a stainless steel dancefloor in their bellbottomed pants. The night was enormously popular from its start.

“I was blown away the first night” recalls Moreira. “Tin-Tin and I decided to get to the club for about 7 p.m. to make sure everything was set up properly. When we arrived, there were literally hundreds of people, in the evening summer sun, waiting in line for the club’s doors to open. When the doors opened at 9 p.m., there was a rush to enter. After getting past the front door, you’d have to climb up a row of steps leading into the main room, with the DJ booth located above the dance floor for all to see. The energy was beyond impressive.

“The house we played was very new, very experimental,” continues Moreira, who would go on to find fame as a DJ, producer and radio host. “It’s the stuff that’s now coined ‘classic house,’ but for us it was the newest of the new—stuff like Raze’s ‘Break 4 Love,’ Ten City’s ‘That’s The Way Love Is,’ to the harder, more techno-driven sounds like Mike Dunn’s ‘Magic Feet.’ Max was an avenue for deeper underground electronic music, situated around the early warehouse, pre-rave days. Max left a new impression. Being as young as we were, it was our Studio 54.”

Deadly Hedley Jones. Photo courtesy of him.

Klub Max was also where CFNY personality and DJ “Deadly” Hedley Jones (pictured above) hosted his All Night Dance Party. Broadcast live-to-air on Saturdays, midnight-to-6 a.m. from 1990-1994, the program was the only one on commercial radio to explore the intersection of house, hip-hop, reggae and rave.

“I think the crowd at Klub Max was a mix of all of those genres,” recalls Jones. “They really came to dance and listen to music, which was always fresh. They knew if they came out they were going to hear it there first. Carnival Records and Play De Record—the hot shops at the time—would sell out many of the tracks I played the next day.

“I was playing a lot of white labels and dubplates,” adds the influential and industrious broadcaster, then known as the “late-night guy” on CFNY (now 102.1 the Edge). “Max was unique in that, even though the club closed its doors at 3 a.m., people had the choice to stay until the show ended. I had out-of-town guests and DJs visiting all the time. It was a great hang out.”

“It was the most exclusive after-party I can remember,” adds DJ Mark Oliver who played “stomping, up-front house music” Fridays and Saturdays at Max from 1991-1993, including as an integral part of Hedley’s live-to-air.

“We would have a howl, playing test presses of all the latest gems without having to keep an eye on the dancefloor,” says Oliver, who, at the time, was already a rave headliner also known for his nights at Go-Go and beloved Acid Jazz Wednesdays at The Cameron House. “I could never really get my head around the fact that, at 4 a.m., we were playing to a handful of Hedley’s mates in the club, but tens of thousands of punters were listening on the radio.”

“The crowd was always up for it, jumping and screaming all night,” he recalls. “The atmosphere was very much like a rave. I played many of the same tracks I would have played at raves, but the Max faithful were not dressed like ravers. At that time, most regular-hours, licensed clubs around town were meat markets playing Top 40. I would say that Max unknowingly provided an alternative.  Between the insanely loud and crisp sound system and the rammed dancefloor, it would have been a challenge to chat someone up.”

Klub Max dancer. Photo by Steven Lungley (stevenlungley.com)

Who else played there: While dozens of DJs passed through Klub Max’s three different booths over the years, a few other names are mentioned repeatedly by those interviewed here. Jason “Deko” Steele was an early main-room resident, introducing dancers to house music while also releasing music on influential local labels including Hi-Bias. Other dance music DJs included Terry Kelly, Matt C, James St. Bass and Peter, Tyrone and Shams, while people like DJ Gary, Craig Beesack, Michael X and Cam brought the alternative.

“DJ Gio [Cristiano] was our Rock God,” says Nick Di Donato of the weekend resident DJ who had worked for him previously at P.M. Toronto.

“There were a lot of smashed glasses everywhere,” says Cristiano (who went on to play at many Liberty Group venues) of the vibe on Saturdays at Klub Max.

Patricia Hell and Angela Koszuta enjoying a night out at Max, 1994. Photo by Steven Lungley.

Most memorable moments: “I’ll never forget the night the Jays first won the World Series [in 1992],” shares Oliver. “The club installed a huge screen for everyone to watch the game, without audio, while dancing. Tapping into the already electric energy of the crowd, I created a soundtrack on the fly, doing things like syncopating beats with Joe Carter’s warm-up swings of the bat. You could throw a stone from Max and hit SkyDome, so when the World Series was captured, you can imagine the images that followed. Max suddenly became a bunker, the safest place to be on Peter Street. The club couldn’t even open its doors to let anyone in; it would have been like opening your sunroof during a hail storm.”

The Blue Jays’ victory also prompted Toronto City Council to rename Peter Street south of King as Blue Jays Way in 1992. (How the building Klub Max was in shifted from 52 Peter to 56 Blue Jays Way is a mystery I haven’t been able to crack.)

Mark Oliver, circa early 1990s. Photo courtesy of James Applegath.

Oliver has a number of great stories from his time at Max, which ended when he moved back to Scotland for a stretch in 1993.

“I remember an odd night when I bumped into Moby hanging by himself in the basement of the club,” says Oliver. “He was huge in the underground rave scene at the time with ‘Go,’ but hadn’t put out an album or hit the mainstream yet, so he was just another guy in the crowd. When I asked him what brought him to Klub Max, he said he was in town, hanging out with his pen-pal from when he was a young boy.”

What happened to it: “Klub Max closed down one year after I sold it,” recalls Di Donato, who then opened not just The Phoenix, but also Joker, Left Bank, The Rosewater, Courthouse, Tattoo Rock Parlour (with Charles Khabouth), the Liberty Grand Entertainment Complex and many other businesses.

His timeline is a little off however, as Klub Max did not officially close in 1993 according to most. It closed for a period and was heavily renovated in early 1994, with Belluz, Gerardi and Antonucci as owners. Former Klub Max customer and bartender Mary Ireton recalls that the venue was “given a pyramid look” and re-born as a club called 3000 BC. It closed later that year.

56 Blue Jays Way eventually became a Second City and then the Diesel Playhouse. The area itself, of course, exploded with nightclubs in the mid-1990s. After years of speculation, we now know that the address will become the 41-storey Bisha Hotel and Residences. A project of Charles Khabouth’s INK Entertainment and Lifetime Developments, the boutique-spot-to-be will feature the interior design of one Lenny Kravitz.

Rendering of Bisha Hotel and Residences.

Mark Oliver, now one of Toronto best-known DJs, credits Max as his “first foray into DJing at a more mainstream venue” and thus a “programming blueprint for venues such as The Guvernment,” where he has reigned as resident DJ of Spin Saturdays since 1996.

Tricky Moreira continues to tour, make music and DJ on home turf, including at his Big DJ, Small Club series.

Hedley Jones moved to Los Angeles in 2002 and DJs occasionally, but is focused on his career as a photographer.

Gio Cristiano is now known for spinning electronic dance music, including at The Mod Club’s UK Underground Saturdays.

Thank you to all interviewed above, as well as to Alex Dordevic, Rob Duffy, Mary Ireton, James St. Bass, James Applegath, Patrick Whyte, Adrienne Cauchi and Stacey Hawkins of Liberty Entertainment Group, and photographer Steven Lungley.

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