Article originally published July 16, 2013 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

Denise Benson revisits the legendary restaurant and club that served as an island oasis amid a rapidly transforming Queen West strip.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: BamBoo, 312 Queen St. W.

Years in operation: 1983-2002

History: Like the best of clubs, Toronto’s BamBoo was produced out of friendships, late-night revelry, and the desire to create a unique experience for a core community. The path that co-owners Richard O’Brien and Patti Habib took to get there was filled with fateful turns.

Both were in media and loved the nightlife: O’Brien had been a freelance journalist and live-music booker in California before returning to Toronto where he worked for TVOntario and later CBC, while Habib was a story producer for CBC Radio’s As It Happens. In the late 1970s, O’Brien, also known to friends as Ricci Moderne, partnered with infamous bon vivant Marcus O’Hara to produce annual St. Patrick’s Day parties, dubbed the Martian Awareness Ball (2013 marked its 35th anniversary), with Habib joining them a few years in.

Not long after, the trio—along with a group of friends that also included Dan Aykroyd, publicist Joanne Smale, John Ball, and Roots co-founder Michael Budman—put together an extensive business proposal to re-open The Embassy Tavern, a 1960s Yorkville bar and live-music venue. The plans did not come to fruition. Instead, in 1980, O’Brien and Habib launched the MBC boozecan in what had been her third-floor loft at the corner of Liberty and Jefferson.

“I had to move out,” laughs Habib during a lengthy phone chat. “Richard brought in all his records, and it became an after-hours club opened Mondays—a theatre night—and Thursdays only.”

For two years, the duo drew crowds to this largely deserted part of town we now know as Liberty Village. They booked bands that ranged from reggae to Rough Trade, from a newly formed Parachute Club to soul man Junior Walker. Jamaican patties were the only food served. Income earned at the door was hidden in record covers, and put aside with larger goals in mind.

Habib and O’Brien were also regulars at influential upstairs Queen West boozecan-cum-nightly-artist-hangout The Paper Door. As luck would have it, on an evening spent sitting on the venue’s back balcony, O’Brien looked down and spotted Wicker World, a shop at 312 Queen St. W. set back from the street. The location had been a laundry for years before, looked industrial, and piqued O’Brien’s curiosity. Not long after, he spotted a “For Lease” sign at the address, put down a deposit, and was given three months’ free rent in order to build his business.

“That was a joke—it took three months just to get rid of all the junk in it,” says Habib. “There was broken pottery and wicker, wicker, wicker everywhere. That’s why we called the club the BamBoo.

“The place was a mess. There was one leaky toilet, and barely any lights. There was still a lot of heavy equipment in there from the laundromat. The plumbing was just awful, so the cement floors had to be drilled and dug up.”

At work on what would become the BamBoo. Photo courtesy of Patti Habib.

Many friends pitched in to clean and renovate the space. When the cold months came and the existing wood stove no longer did the trick, Habib lent O’Brien $10,000 for construction heaters.

“That’s how I got involved,” she says. “I could see that without somebody organizing the whole thing and being the boss, I was never going to get my money back. Investors weren’t exactly rushing in. In the end, the place was renovated for $85,000, and then we had to borrow $100,000 to actually buy stock, pay salaries, and open it. The banks wouldn’t lend to us, so we borrowed from a consortium. We had to pay 100 per cent interest; the investors never thought we’d pay it, and likely thought they’d get the space.”

312 Queen St. W., pre-BamBoo. Photo courtesy of Patti Habib.

O’Brien and Habib ran around the city to scope free furniture and other items from restaurants and clubs that went out of business. Big green iron gates were scored from the original Drake Hotel, while banquettes came out of a bowling alley. One-and-a-half years after signing the original lease, they were almost ready to open their nightclub and restaurant.

In July of 1983, with no liquor permit or running water in place, the BamBoo kept a commitment to host the release party for Parachute Club’s self-titled debut album, released through Current/RCA.

“On the day of the show, I went in there with Patti to clean the bathrooms, and get it all ready,” recalls Parachute Club co-founder and vocalist Lorraine Segato. ”All the friends of the BamBoo, who had been following Richard and Patti through the MBC and all the parties they held, were really quite excited, so it was a great night and party.”

With the aim of creating a “casual place to gather with good food and good live music,” according to Habib, the BamBoo opened officially on August 26, 1983. American funk act Prince Charles and the City Beat Band performed.

Poster for Parachute Club’s live debut, pre-BamBoo. Poster by Barbara Klunder, courtesy of Lorraine Segato.

Why it was important: “In the early ’80s, you still couldn’t drink on Sundays unless you were eating—restaurants would close at 9 p.m. or 11 p.m. on Saturdays, and gigs would end by 11 p.m.,” says Segato, also writer/director of 2001 documentary The Rebel Zone, an exploration of Queen West cultural history.

“So in many ways, the boozecans fostered an opportunity for different kinds of music and nightlife to emerge. What Richard and Patti did was take the vibe of the boozecan—a thriving, pulsating, really happening community feeling—and brought that to the BamBoo.”

At the time, Queen West itself was home to a flourishing arts community. The early ’80s recession had hit hard, so rents were relatively low, chain stores had not yet swooped in, and Queen west of University was filled with unique independent retailers, art galleries, new restaurants, and social spots.

“Queen Street was where the ‘new music’ was going to happen,” explains artist Barbara Klunder, an illustrator who drew the MBC’s invites, and went on to help define the BamBoo’s visual identity.

“Before that, it was folk on Yorkville, or blues and jazz clubs on old Yonge Street. The Rivoli also opened up on Queen Street around the same time [as the BamBoo], while Peter Pan had changed hands and become a cool place to eat. There was also the Parrot restaurant, with Greg Couillard as the first [local] celebrity chef. This was the zone of a whole new sensibility of cool international food [writer’s note: Le Select Bistro had opened nearby in the late ’70s], with music to match.

“The BamBoo had a mandate of world music and world food—basically the very opposite of European/white culture. The idea was a fun tropical nightclub, in both music and food.”

Poster and schedule by Barbara Klunder, courtesy of Inge Kuuts.

Influenced heavily by African art, Klunder had an aesthetic that matched O’Brien’s musical vision. She was at the core of the BamBoo’s marketing, from creating its logo to illustrating ads, menus, posters, t-shirts, giant murals, monthly newsletters (over 200 in total), and much more.

As customers walked in past the two painted palm trees that helped mark 312 Queen St. W., one of Klunder’s large murals adorned the brick wall just inside the BamBoo’s first set of gates. Her cheerful mosaics also greeted people. (The mural painted on the outside of the BamBoo’s easterly wall, which faced a parking lot, was originally by Runt. Other artists, including Fiona Smyth, would add to it over time.)

“A tropical garden path led you to a sparkly lit enclosed outdoor patio dining room, with bamboo and tropical plants growing amongst the patio tables,” Klunder describes. “The colours were mostly pink and turquoise to get that island feel right away.

“Then there was the double-door entrance over the floor mosaic of the moon, and you arrived inside a huge room divided into red restaurant booths on the left, and a long, long bar on the right, both leading to a stage. If you turned right as you entered, you would end up in the small pink dining room, which was always full. All through the club were corny 1950s lamps with naked ladies and jaguars, African masks, and mid-century tables loaded down with giant tropical floral arrangements. The walls were covered with either big versions of my artwork or changing art shows of local artists.”

Two pieces of BamBoo artwork by Barbara Klunder. Images courtesy of her.

“The aesthetics of the club were interesting,” offers multi-instrumentalist and producer Chris Brown, who started bussing tables at the BamBoo in the late ’80s as a high-school summer job, before playing organ and singing on its stage as part of Bourbon Tabernacle Choir.

“The Caribbean accouterments, mid-century furniture and lamps, and Ontario bamboo in the courtyard all conspired to create a Gilligan’s Island feel tucked into an oasis on Queen West.”

Inviting in every possible way, the BamBoo was relaxed, warm, and far from slick. Random parts hinted at an industrial past, including the outdoor fountain built atop the remnants of the building’s original boiler. A narrow metal stairwell led up to the Treetop, a Jamaican style bar ‘n’ BBQ that opened on the club’s rooftop in summer of 1984, expanding the BamBoo’s legal capacity to 500.

“During the summer heat, there was nowhere you wanted to be other than the Treetop Lounge,” says Klunder. “Think rum drinks and burgers at brightly painted barstools or coffee tables under the night sky and the CN Tower.”

“The thing about the BamBoo was that everything was great—the music, the food, the staff, the vibe, the vision,” says Segato. “It was known as much for its mix of food as for the music. You’d walk in and there was the feeling that you could be in Jamaica or Trinidad or some amazing beach bar in Thailand.”

The BamBoo’s menu, in fact, combined all of these cultural reference points, and helped put the nightclub on the map, as well as on best-of lists. Open six days a week from lunch until the wee hours, the BamBoo attracted a large and loyal crowd of food lovers, thanks to original chefs Vera Khan, who handled the West Indian fare, and Wandee Young, Thai-food innovator.

BamBoo menu cover. Image courtesy of Patti Habib.

“Our concept was food from anywhere where there was a gorgeous beach, and so the Thai/Caribbean menu evolved,” explains Inge Kuuts, who worked at the BamBoo for almost all of its history, as a waitress, floor manager, and more.

“There was never a crazier, more stoned kitchen than that one, working way too hard in the constant overwhelming heat, serving more food orders than was possible to keep up with, and yet able to put out the best island-style food available in the city! People would come miles for the Thai noodles, and I have yet to have one better than the dish created by Wandee Young.”

Patti Habib (left) and Inge Kuuts. Photo courtesy of Kuuts.

Many Torontonians, in fact, experienced their first Pad Thai thanks to Young, who offered it first during her time at the BamBoo, and then when she opened her own restaurant, Young Thailand.

“I swear, when we started, nobody knew we sold food because everybody was coming for the music,” laughs Habib. “Within a few years, we became a very unusual nightclub in that we sold more food than we did liquor. Often people came for the food, had a seat, and would stay all night.”

The BamBoo’s menu—much of which is shared in the beautiful, best-selling 1997 book, The BamBoo Cooks, with illustrations by Klunder—barely changed an iota over the club’s history.

While Habib’s focus was largely on the menu, kitchen and staffing and O’Brien was the driving force behind bookings, it was their mesh of ideas and personalities that made the ’Boo work.

“Richard was a bit of a grumpy guy—he wasn’t all happy all the time,” offers Segato about O’Brien, widely known to be both contentious and charmingly passionate. “Patti was the one who I think was, in so many ways, the beating heart of the project, whereas Richard saw what it could do and why it was so, so important. Together, they were a formidable team who each took care of different pieces.”

Richard O’Brien (left) with staff and friends on the BamBoo rooftop patio. Photo courtesy of Patti Habib.

Both were committed to making the BamBoo a meeting point of culture and communities, with live-music programming that was decidedly different than the rock lean of most downtown clubs. The BamBoo’s world-music policy brought together jazz, reggae, ska, funk, soul, African, and early hip-hop acts, among many others.

“While the BamBoo’s décor was laid back, with tropical lighting and Negril-type furniture, I believe that it was the general vibes from Richard and Patti that [most] celebrated this cultural mix, and made everyone feel like it was ‘home turf,’” proffers writer and Juno-winning dub poet Lillian Allen, who both frequented and performed at the club a great deal.

“The BamBoo created a community of performers and audience,” Allen adds. “It was, especially in the earlier days, a kind of love-in. The business model felt like it was culture first. They were about diversity and substance.

“I was involved with organizations such as A Space, Immican Youth project, and Truths and Rights, so I was part of a developing cross-cultural scene. I was also a member of De Dub Poets, with Clifton Joseph and Devon Haughton. The activities on Queen Street then were so vital and exciting. We were not only welcome, we were sought-after.”

Lorraine Segato performs at the BamBoo. Photo courtesy of her.

Segato also appreciates the club’s approach to this day.

“I call BamBoo the hub, really,” she tells me. “It was the centrifugal force of any of the world music that was starting to pop along Queen Street. Of course you had The Cameron, The Horseshoe, The Cabana Room and a few other places—Billy [Bryans, Parachute Club co-founder and prolific producer/musician] used to say that he rolled his drum kit up and down the street—but they all kind of serviced different community-oriented projects. One was more performance art, another was art-school bands, you had a more blues-oriented club, and so on. But the BamBoo itself… everything generated circles around there once it opened.

“It was a place for everything that was remotely ‘world’ music—reggae, funk, anything that serviced the immigrant communities that had come to Toronto and were basically holding most of their events outside of Queen Street. If they came downtown, they came to the ‘Boo. I wanted to be at the BamBoo because you could see it was at the forefront of a new era of music in the city.”

“The BamBoo was pivotal in providing a venue where the music of the African diaspora outside of its North American innovations found a downtown place of expression,” agrees David Barnard, former Program Director of influential community radio station CKLN and host of Dr. Feelgood’s Blues Emporium.

“Nobody else was doing that on the scale that the BamBoo did at that time. Because the BamBoo was larger than The Rivoli, Cameron House, and the Beverley Tavern, rather than compete with them, it augmented the street’s musical vibe. It added so much to the existing music scene.”

There were close ties between the BamBoo and CKLN, which launched on the FM dial the same year as the club opened. The station’s jazz programmers—and hosts of shows like Diasporic Music, Socalypso Sounds, Latin Party, and Reggae Showcase—played many of the artists that O’Brien booked. The ’Boo was also a key venue and participant for most years of CKLN’s signature Street Crawl event, which brought 15 bands to five clubs for one admission price. (Full disclosure: as CKLN’s Development and later Program Director, I helped produce the event.)

Perhaps most significantly, the BamBoo sponsored CKLN’s weekly Sounds of Africa show, launched in 1986 by hosts Thad “Thaddy” Ulzen and Sam Mensah, and that relationship continued for many years. Under the production company name Highlife World, Mensah and Ulzen also brought many African artists to perform in Toronto.

“There were hardly any clubs playing African music,” recalls Mensah. “Richard O’Brien was a great fan of Ghanaian highlife music, and soon got us working actively to bring African artists to play at the BamBoo.”

“Ours was a purely collaborative effort to get African music on to the cultural landscape of Toronto, and in Richard and Patti we found an interested and willing pair,” adds Ulzen. “Initially, we had a few Tuesday night acts, which we advertised in the African community to get things started before we were all ready to try bigger acts on weekends.”

1989 AfroFest poster. Artwork by and image courtesy of Barbara Klunder.

As the founding duo behind Afrofest—now in it’s 25th year and long organized under the Music Africa banner—Ulzen and Mensah brought dozens of incredible artists to the BamBoo stage, including an event with legendary South African trumpeter Hugh Masekela.

“That was a particularly magical night,” writes Ulzen by email. (He is now a psychiatrist who teaches full-time at the University of Alabama, part-time at the University of Cape Coast in Ghana, and has just published first novel, Java Hill: An African Journey.)

“The ticket line went halfway around the block, and Sam and I literally had to beg to get in. It was so packed; everybody and their brother had a reason for getting to the head of the line!”

“In 1989, we reached an agreement with Richard to make the BamBoo the sole venue for Afrofest,” adds Mensah (now an economist who teaches at the University of Ghana, and is founder of the Jazz Society of Ghana). “This was a significant year. Many important African artists played at the BamBoo under Afrofest, including Sonny Okusun from Nigeria, Kanda Bongo Man from Congo, and Native Spirit, Okyerema Asante, and Sankofa, all from Ghana.”

Like many, Habib counts the appearance of Masekela as among her favourite of BamBoo performances, and also mentions highlights including appearances by Fishbone, local pan-African band Siyaka, R&B act Soul Stew, vocal powerhouse Molly Johnson, and Toronto-based reggae artists including Leroy Sibbles, Messenjah, and Sattalites (whose 1987 album, Live Via Sattalites, was recorded at the BamBoo.)

Leroy Sibbles was a frequent performer at the BamBoo. Photo courtesy of Patti Habib.

Habib also reminds me that the BamBoo took public stands on social issues, with its owners speaking out against apartheid in South Africa and initiating a Queen Street club crawl in support of pro-choice advocate Dr. Henry Morgentaler.

“I made it a point to organize events at the BamBoo to bring out my communities, and consciously supported its fantastic programming,” states Lillian Allen, who launched her second album, Conditions Critical, there.

“It became a hip, dynamic place for all sorts of diverse artist-driven culture. De Dub Poets organized many, many events there, as did Ahdri Zhina Mandiela [with whom Allan brought in British dub poet Benjamin Zephaniah]. Truths and Rights did a lot of gigs there. A lot of experimentations happened, too.”

“Because of the BamBoo, a lot of people worked together who wouldn’t generally have had the chance to,” agrees Segato, citing a shared project between herself, Billy Bryans, Rough Trade bassist Terry Wilkins, and “Truths and Rights’ charismatic front man, Mojah.”

Post-Parachute Club, Segato performed both solo at the club, and with collaborators also including John Oates (of Hall & Oates) and Micah Barnes.

John Oates (left) with Lorraine Segato onstage at the BamBoo. Photo courtesy of Segato.

“The stage was kind of small, and it was hot and sweaty,” she recalls. “I mostly remember summer nights with people jammed in there, dancing away, totally anything goes. The best gigs I ever did, I have to say, were at the BamBoo because the club was big enough that it had a real vibe if you filled it, but it was still intimate. It was the hottest club.

“In many ways, like the El Mocambo would have been for rock ’n’ roll music in the ’60s and ’70s, the ‘Boo was that in its time; you always had the feeling that something amazing was happening there.”

Not only was Richard O’Brien a strong music programmer, he also had a keen sense of which independent promoters to embrace. Innovators like Elliott Lefko, Lance Ingleton, Jones & Jones, and Jonathan Ramos of REMG all booked in shows.

In 1987, Dark Light Music’s Serge Sloimovits staged a jazz festival, with appearances by acts including Cecil Taylor, World Sax Quartet, and Toronto’s Shuffle Demons. Barnard also recalls seeing The Art Ensemble of Chicago—“I couldn’t sleep that night as a result.”

Like Afrofest, the Toronto Downtown Jazz Festival has early roots at the BamBoo. “The first time I worked at the BamBoo was through the DuMaurier Jazz Festival, circa 1988,” says Chris Brown.

“I remember as a busboy watching Brian Murphy kick organ bass with Eugene Amaro and my life was changed by it. I was a major fan of Defunkt, and they had me hang out with them for their stay in Toronto and shows at the BamBoo. It was seminal for me; Joe Bowie became a serious musical mentor, and I ended up working at the club on and off for four years, first as a busboy and eventually waiting tables.”

Shuffle Demons’ charismatic and versatile sax man Richard Underhill recalls the band playing regularly after their jazz fest dates for Sloimovits.

“I was also lucky enough to play with the late Mozambican bass player Jamisse Jamo at his monthly Africa Night jam sessions, which was a joy and a great learning experience.” (Jamo’s band included African music veterans like Quammie Williams and Kobena Aquaa-Harrison.)

He, like nearly everyone I speak with, points out that the BamBoo reflected the change in Toronto’s population. The club was nearly as multicultural as the city itself, and was welcoming to all. According to many, there were zero fights in the club’s long history despite its lack of air conditioning and frequent sauna-like conditions.

“There was a great vibe at the BamBoo that radiated out from the staff, and included the audience,” says Underhill. “It was one of those wonderful places where you felt that the Canadian cultural experiment was really working, where people from all different cultural backgrounds came together and got down with each other.”

“The BamBoo was mix-up, mix-up,” agrees Barnard. “It was a nearly perfect realization of Pierre Elliott Trudeau’s concept of a multicultural Canadian society.”

“The BamBoo was and will always be one of a kind,” summarizes reggae artist and founder of The Canadian Reggae Music Awards, Winston Hewitt.

“All of us reggae artists, as well as supporters of the music, just loved to be at the BamBoo. There was so much good talk on the street about the club that, before you went there, you already knew what to expect. Everyone was welcome, no matter what colour or creed.”

BamBoo staff circa the mid 1980s. Photo courtesy of Inge Kuuts.

Who else played/worked there: Artists from near and far wanted gigs at the BamBoo.

“The sound was always great, the beer cold, food good, and you really felt respected as a musician,” explains Underhill. “It was just the right size, with a good vibe and a cool staff. Patti was such a joy to deal with, a real sweetheart.

“And,” he adds, “When you played, you got paid!”

The BamBoo’s size, sound and staging made it a next-level club for local artists on the rise, and a great intimate spot for internationals to connect with their Toronto following.

“Music was always front and centre,” emphasizes Chris Brown. “The Last Poets, Jimmy Witherspoon, The Lounge Lizards, King Sunny Adé, George Clinton, David Byrne, and Slim Gaillard all made stops on that stage. It also nurtured our incredible domestic reggae and ska scene, [booking bands like] 20th Century Rebels, Skatones, and Kali & Dub.”

Before Bourbon Tabernacle Choir started to tour regularly, Brown could often be found five or six nights a week at the BamBoo. When not with tray in hand, he guested on keys with a variety of reggae bands. It’s a little known fact that O’Brien helped him get there.

Chris Brown (far left) with the Bourbon Tabernacle Choir, circa 1988. Photo courtesy of Brown.

“When I was working as a busser one summer, Richard pulled me into the office and said, ‘What’s this I hear about you buying a Hammond Organ?’ I told him I intended to when I could afford it. ‘Any 17-year-old who is buying a Hammond is trustworthy,’ he said, and cut me a cheque for $800 on the spot, which I paid off out of my wages.

“Richard was kind of like Fred Flintstone: beneath the gruff was this incredible soul.”

The Bourbons as a whole benefited greatly from their connection with the club.

“The BamBoo was one of the first places we began drawing a crowd, and I believe at least four of us worked there as our day job, too,” says Brown. “It really opened Toronto for us, and got us working at clubs like the Horseshoe and The Diamond. The music we witnessed there nightly, and the artists we met had a massive effect on us. It’s extraordinary; I can’t really think of a parallel.”

From top: Bunny Wailer, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, Dizzy Gillespie, and Erykah Badu with Patti Habib. Photos all courtesy of Habib.

“Seeing Buckwheat Zydeco for the first time there stands out,” says Barnard. “An accordion can be funky, ils sont partis! Also, it’s taken for granted now, but the chance to see locally based Leroy Sibbles, Willie Williams, Lillian Allen, Clifton Joseph, Jayson, and many more in those early days was very influential on current generations of performers.

“I saw Whitenoise, led by vocalist/sax player Bill Grove, on many occasions,” he adds. “NYC may have had James Chance and Defunkt, but we had Whitenoise. I thought Bill’s bands kicked more ass.”

Buckwheat Zydeco at the BamBoo. Photo courtesy of David Barnard.

Toronto’s local soul and acid jazz scene represented too, with appearances by bands like Jacksoul and Bass Is Base. By the late ’90s, Soul 4 Real Mondays, with host Wade O. Brown and DJs Christopher Michaels and Everfresh, were the BamBoo’s biggest weekly draw.

Also part of the BamBoo’s programming mix were countless community events, Film Festival parties, City-TV events, book launches, weddings, and more. Canadian celebs, artists and industry people—like Aykroyd, Sibbles, Bruce Cockburn, Buffy St. Marie, Moses Znaimer, Marcus O’Hara and sisters Mary Margaret and Catherine—were often in attendance.

“The BamBoo was the most fun job I ever had,” declares longtime waitress Inge Kuuts. “The staff had a really big spread in ages, everyone was a character in some way, and we got along great. We worked together and partied together. Patti and Ricci were accommodating to their staff, and would always help you out if they could.”

According to Lillian Allen, “The staff and serving personnel had this vibe of peace, love and respect, with a certain kind of sizzle.”

People like Andy Joyce, John Pigani, and PJ Taylor aided in the BamBoo’s initial construction, and went on to contribute in other roles. Boys Brigade band member Billy “Bucko” Brock was an early presence on door. Chef Stash Golas worked alongside Vera Khan in the kitchen for years. (Both now live in Costa Rica, where they each own restaurants.) Other chefs, like Marion Robinson and Joe Davies, were also key. Longtime general manager Jennifer Halpin worked alongside veteran bartenders and servers like Wayne Graham, Parker Ng, Brian Sam, Sandra Coburn, and Karen Young—all very familiar faces to BamBoo regulars.

Habib also credits artist Annie Jaeger, the BamBoo’s bookkeeper for its entire history (“she was so very important; the sanity keeper of the office,”), and speaks fondly of long-serving waiter, Michael Flaxman, now owner of Boo Radley’s on Dupont.

“Michael used to serve the area we called Cambodia, which was usually hot, packed, and hard to get through,” describes Habib. “He would gather up trays of beer and rum and cokes, and somehow walk his way through. He was the nicest, most polite waiter, and sold the most of anyone.”

“For the most part, the staff was like stowaways on a ship,” says Brown. “We came from everywhere, and lifelong bonds were formed. There was a sense of a separate universe about it, and things felt familial. The BamBoo prepped me for life as much as anything did.”

Brown now divides his time between Wolfe Island and NYC where he records and performs with many people he met at the club, including frequent collaborator Kate Fenner.

Kuuts, who now works on the retail side of the restaurant industry at Nella Cucina, speaks of another annual highlight in the BamBoo staff calendar.

“We used to have a float in Caribana, and take mushrooms to get through the day of dancing. Caribana night at the ’Boo was super packed, super fun, and super hot, hot, hot!”

“In the old days, when Caribana ran down University, if you had a good float with good music, you had a huge procession because people were allowed to join in, which is what it’s supposed to be all about,” adds Habib. “It wasn’t just a parade; it was a party on wheels.

“Because the BamBoo had money, we could afford a second generator, refreshments on board, the décor, a big band and sound system. We partnered with Shadowland—theatre artists who live on the Island—and they would always come up with a theme. Jack Layton and Olivia Chow would always come along. At the end, we would turn off and go down Queen Street, and everyone would come out of the shops to wave. Caribana used to be our biggest night of the year; it was just so wild.”

What happened to it: The BamBoo began to falter in 2000, after O’Brien was paralyzed by his first serious stroke. He was mobile in a wheelchair, but spent much of his time accessing rehabilitation, meaning Habib had to take on much of the work. Business remained steady, but Habib found the workload difficult.

When it was announced in July of 2002 that the BamBoo would soon be closing, customers were surprised, and many made assumptions.

“People always seem to think that we sold the business for big money, but we didn’t,” Habib divulges. “We didn’t have the chance to sell it.

“I did a deal with my landlord, because he knew that I was having troubles without Richard there and wanted out. He gave us a new 10-year lease, but with a handshake. [With his knowledge], I met with a listing agent, and we put [the business] up for sale in May. On July 1, the day our lease officially expired, I got a phone call telling me that the landlord had sent a registered letter, giving us 90 days to get out.”

A BamBoo regular dances in front of the venue’s beloved A-Go-Go sign. Photo courtesy of Patti Habib.

The BamBoo closed with an October 31 bash, dubbed BooHoo. Performers included Sattalites and Billy Bryans.

By then, chain stores including Le Chateau had moved to the strip, rents had skyrocketed, and O’Brien was knee-deep in plans to open Bambu By The Lake on Queens Quay, near Harbourfront. Sadly, his involvement lasted less than a year, and he lost most of his life savings. O’Brien suffered a second massive stroke in 2007, and passed away. His friends paid tribute in many ways, including a blog devoted to Ricci Moderne.

“I miss having Richard around,” says Klunder, who remains both prolific and versatile as a visual artist. “He was notoriously rude, but funny. The club was his brainchild and his child.

“I miss the BamBoo’s particular relaxed-during-the-day cool, and be-there-or-be-square nightclub acts, with line-ups around the block for many gigs. It was our cool, cultural community centre, a place to even bring the kids, a place for our slightly wild, musical, artistic gang. There is nothing like it now.”

Lorraine Segato—who agrees “there has been nothing like the BamBoo ever since”—also remains very active as a multi-media artist. She’s currently completing her third solo album, expected in fall, and has written a one-woman show, called Get Off My Dress, also set to premiere come autumn.

Habib is semi-retired from the club/restaurant business, but is actively involved in the city’s cultural goings-on.

Award-winning alto saxophonist Richard Underhill is busier than ever, but he too longs for the BamBoo chill.

“I miss the food, the Red Stripes, the downtown Caribbean feel, the cultural meeting point and the way your sphincter relaxed when you walked into the place,” he writes. “The BamBoo was a beacon of tranquility in a crazy city, a home to top-quality music and great people, a place where all were welcome and most were cool.”

Barnard, a consultant in the Department of Canadian Heritage since 2008, concurs, and raises the topic one.

“Places today seem uptight to me,” Barnard offers by way of comparison. “There is also no club like the BamBoo now in terms of its programming. Ironically, it feels like the city could really use a unifying entity like it to help galvanize creative energies again.”

Charles Khabouth and his INK Entertainment opened Ultra Supper Club at 312 Queen St. W. in 2003. It ran for nine years, and was renovated and re-launched as Cube last year.

Thank you to participants Barbara Klunder, Chris Brown, David Barnard, Inge Kuuts, Lillian Allen, Lorraine Segato, Patti Habib, Richard Underhill, Sam Mensah, Thad “Thaddy” Ulzen, Winston Hewitt, and to Keith Holding for permission to include the clip from his Bar Life show.

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

Article originally published November 2, 2012 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

After punk exploded in the late ’70s, this infamous Gerrard Street new-wave mecca kept the fire burning into the ’80s—even if its many famous performers were in danger of getting doused by the overflowing upstairs toilets leaking onto the stage.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: The Edge, 70 Gerrard St. E.

Years in operation: 1979-1981

History: On the northeast corner of Gerrard and Church sits a modest three-floor building that has had—and housed—many lives. It is said to have once been the residence of Egerton (pronounced “Edge-erton”) Ryerson, a prominent Canadian educator who, in 1852, founded the Toronto Normal School at what is now Bond and Gould streets.

Ryerson University is named after him, as was Egerton’s Restaurant and Tavern, a student hangout and folk-music club that opened at 70 Gerrard St. E. in the early 1970s. Licensed as a “listening room” and required to sell food, Egerton’s was open seven days a week, sold cheap beer, and booked live performers like Stan Rogers.

“We lived in the shadow of The Riverboat [in Yorkville] and bigger clubs that had bigger stages and dance floors, like the El Mocambo, Midwich Cuckoo Tavern, and Jarvis House,” recalls Derek Andrews, a veteran Toronto live-music programmer who got his start in the industry as a dishwasher at Egerton’s in January 1974.

Andrews would continue at the location for almost eight years, working his way up to busboy, waiter, and general manager. He shares that Egerton’s had been owned by Warren Beamish, PC candidate for the Rosedale riding in 1974’s federal election, before it was acquired by Bernie Kamin and Harvey Hudes, partners in Mosport Park, among other projects. The pair brought in a young Ron Chapman as co-owner and managing operator.

Chapman and Andrews—who together would run the Nite Life management company which represented artists including songwriter Eddie “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” Schwartz, Paul Quarrington, and Ellen McIlwaine—would go on to book the likes of legendary funk drummer Bernard Purdie during Egerton’s later period.

But Chapman also had an eye on Toronto’s emerging underground. Late in 1978, he invited prescient concert promoters Gary Topp and Gary Cormier, together known as The Garys, to come book live music at Egerton’s.

Gary Topp (left) and Gary Cormier, as they appeared in the Toronto Star, circa 1980. Photo courtesy of Gary Topp.

The Garys were, by then, known for presenting live shows by eccentric singer-songwriters and cutting-edge jazz, blues, punk, and new-wave artists. Topp had programmed films—and occasional live bands, including the debut performances by both Rough Trade and Nash the Slash—at east-end movie theatre The Roxy. In 1976, Topp launched the New Yorker Theatre on Yonge (now the Panasonic), where artist David Andoff would introduce him to carpenter and fellow music head Cormier.

Partly influenced by screening Blank Generation, Amos Poe’s movie about early New York punk, Topp had decided he needed to build a stage at The New Yorker and bring in bands. Cormier and he were in sync, and joined forces to present The Ramones in September 1976, followed in ’77 by fellow New Yorkers the Dead Boys, U.K. punks The Vibrators, and locals including The Viletones and The Poles.

After rent was raised at The New Yorker, The Garys relocated to The Horseshoe Tavern where they built a stage, brought in sound and lighting, and booked bands beginning in March 1978.

“Our statement was that we were going to be Toronto’s first concert club,” says Topp.

They brought in a wide range of artists—from Sun Ra, Cecil Taylor and Etta James to Talking Heads, Johnny Thunders and a then unknown trio called The Police—before The Horseshoe’s owners opted to revert to a country format that December.

Enter Ron Chapman.

“Ron started coming down to The Horseshoe, and was there the night we did The Police,” recalls Cormier. “When everything kind of collapsed at The Horseshoe—when they said, ‘Take your fucking punk music and get out of here’—Ron said, ‘Come to Egerton’s.’

“Everybody thought it was a horrible idea because it was a little folk room. Although, if the truth be known, most of the shows that we did at The Horseshoe only drew 100 to 200 people. So I said, ‘Yeah, we’ll go to Egerton’s, and we’ll call it The Edge, and that’s that.’”

The Garys worked with Chapman and Andrews to quickly transform the Egerton’s space. It was painted black, the stage was moved, raised, and expanded, with sound and lighting upgrades also helping to create a proper concert space. The staircase that divided the long main room into two halves remained, as did a fireplace. Some walls were removed to increase capacity and (slightly) improve sightlines, but the venue’s wooden chairs and tables stayed put as per its dining licence. Food was served from 7:30 a.m. to 11 p.m. daily. The building’s second floor featured an office and washrooms with notoriously leaky toilets.

“The Edge didn’t really ‘open’ so much as enjoy a name change, with rebranding and a music-policy change,” explains Andrews. “The menu and staff were in fact the same initially. The reach was to catch the wave, so to speak, of young audiences coming out for live music.”

The venue’s official start date was December 31, 1978. Local favourites Martha and the Muffins brought in the New Year.

The Edge menu, courtesy of Gary Cormier.

Why it was important: “The two-and-a-half year life of The Edge was like a high speed train running through Toronto music culture,” says Andrews. “The club was an exploding black box inside a colonial historic building. Sometimes the vibe was chilled by free jazz, folk legends, or blues artists, but the dominant sound was a mix of crunchy post-punk and British new wave.”

By 1979, Toronto’s music and art scenes were exploding. The city had style, originality, and attitude to spare. There was as much camaraderie as competition among bands in the downtown scene, with people pushing one another to go further.

As a 200-capacity live music venue that was open every day and night of the week, The Edge played a unique role. There were not many venues in town devoted to emerging, often esoteric live bands—though punks had previously infiltrated venues like Turning Point, Crash ’n’ Burn, and the infamous Larry’s Hideaway on Carlton Street—and certainly not on such a regular basis.

“There were a lot of little places having bands, but I don’t think there were any venues like The Edge, which was bringing in major international artists alongside the locals,” says Gary Topp. “It was a concert hall in the guise of a club, and it became a hangout.

“Because it was also a restaurant, with food during the day, you could go in and watch as people soundchecked. It was also all-ages, because it was a restaurant, and we put a PA out on the patio so people could still hear sold-out shows.”

“The Edge really did feel like a new beginning,” says veteran musician and photographer Don Pyle, a regular at the club. “Punk had happened, and the venues had been appropriate for that. Now, things were becoming artier and more experimental. This seated and more comfortable venue, with food even, reflected some kind of maturing in the ‘scene.’”

Photos courtesy of Gary Topp.

At a time when there weren’t large booking agencies, like-minded concert promoters across the continent formed bonds to bring over the Brits and others.

“The Garys brought in the who’s who of emerging acts of the day—be it locals, first plays from the U.K., and of course a lot of acts from New York City, Ohio, and beyond,” says Ivar Hamilton, another Edge regular who also held sway as the Import Music Director at CFNY 102.1 FM during its most adventurous years. “They were ahead of the curve on nearly every level, and that made The Edge such an iconic venue for the short time it was in existence. They didn’t always do punk and new wave; there was a great mix of genres of music, plus poetry and film. You had to be there!”

“The Edge was our little clubhouse,” says Gary Cormier. “All we wanted to do was see these bands. There were a few things behind our thinking. It was like: ‘Take me to a place I haven’t been,’ ‘Show me something I haven’t seen,’ and ‘Let me hear something I haven’t heard before.’ Underlying that whole theme was—to the rest of the industry—something akin to ‘Come on. Is that the best you guys can do? Is that all you’ve got?’ It wasn’t necessarily a sense of one-upmanship or whatever, but clearly we were on a different path than everyone else. There was nothing that we were afraid to do, and we were not afraid to fail. We lost so much money sometimes, but we weren’t in it for the money.”

Adds Topp, “The scene was so small back then that it was actually like a club—like the Mickey Mouse Club. We were all punkateers.”

Wayne Brown of The Fits (right) and an Edge staff member stand outside the club in a “punk fashion” magazine spread. Photo courtesy of Gary Topp.

“It was smallish, but really electrifying,” says Steven Leckie, best known as lead singer of seminal Toronto punk band The Viletones, who performed frequently at the club. “Looking back, I think The Edge was at an absolute peak of things. I lived just up the road, at Church and Isabella, and went almost every single night. Bands that now have big-name recognition would play three or four nights out of every seven.”

“The Edge was cooler than shit,” Carole Pope tells me. “All my close friends went there. It was like being at a club in New York or London.”

As lead singer of hugely influential Toronto band Rough Trade, Pope performed all over the city and toured internationally, but The Edge remains especially close to her heart.

“I saw so many great bands there: Ultravox, The Slits, John Sex, Nico, B-52s. The Slits were all about shocking the audience. One of the chicks said, ‘I have my blood,’ sharing with us that she was on her period. Nico was all-mysterious, wrapped in her Velvet Underground aura. Ultravox was amazing; I loved everything they did.”

XTC at The Edge. Photo by Don Pyle.

Sun Ra at The Edge. Photo courtesy of Gary Topp.

“Within the first two to three months of The Edge, we did both XTC, and Ultravox with John Foxx, which was a completely different animal than without him, and they were just incredible shows,” Cormier recalls. “Every minute that those bands were on stage in that room were captivating, with the entire audience in sync. Those nights, you could go home without a nickel in your pocket and you thought you had the world by the tail.”

Topp is equally enthusiastic. “Everybody we booked was special to at least one, if not both of us. XTC played with Barry Andrews on keyboards, before he left. Sun Ra—the real Sun Ra, when he was alive—played, with half the band in the audience because there was no room on the stage. Nico played twice. One of the times, she was wandering around in the afternoon in the attic of the house and encountered a ghost. There were lots of punky shows—999, The Viletones. Wayne/Jayne County recorded Rock ‘N’ Roll Resurrection on New Year’s Eve in 1979. But of all the international artists, John Otway played the most, like five or six times.”

“The Edge was my favourite venue [in North America], followed by Max’s Kansas City in New York,” says eccentric British singer-songwriter Otway, billed as “rock and roll’s greatest failure” in new documentary Otway: The Movie. “The Edge was the gig in North America that felt very much like a U.K. venue. From the very first show there, we went down a storm. It was brilliant. The audiences, as I remember, got bigger and bigger each time we came over. It probably cost me a fortune because I believed if we could do this all over the continent we would crack America in no time.”

John Otway at The Edge. Photo courtesy of Gary Topp.

The Garys were notorious for booking oddball acts with cult status. Another was U.K. rockabilly outfit Crazy Cavan ‘n’ The Rhythm Rockers, the band responsible for altering Steven Leckie’s life and look.

“They were this working-class rockabilly band from Wales that managed to get around 50 teddy boys and girls to come with them on this North American jaunt,” says Leckie. “The next day, I changed my hair, I changed everything, and got really deep into U.K. rockabilly, which was way more glamorous than the American stuff.”

Poster courtesy of Gary Topp.

Surprisingly congenial for a guy once nicknamed Nazi Dog who earned a rep for cutting himself on stage and throwing himself into audiences, Leckie recalls that The Viletones in fact debuted their own stylistic and musical take on rockabilly at The Edge.

“It went over like Bob Dylan going electric,” he chuckles as we chat by phone. “It really went badly, but it gave the band a lot of longevity. Plus, it looked better and it seemed more primal. It was the sheer ego of it. I see rock ‘n’ roll as a glamour artform. For me, The Edge was really high glamour.”

The Viletones’ Steven Leckie goes rockabilly. Photo courtesy of him.

Especially glamorous, it seems, were the club’s second-floor bathrooms, mentioned by almost everyone I spoke with.

“The bathrooms were above the stage, and were often fucked up,” says Topp. “Sometimes, the toilets would flood and the water would pour down on the stage while bands were playing.

“The best time of all was one night while Jonathan Richman played there. It was a Sunday, he was solo, and the water was pouring down at the front of the stage. He had the luxury of just moving back, and I was doing lights, as I usually did. That night, with the water falling in front of Jonathan, it was kind of like the coloured lights on Niagara Falls at night.”

That said, The Garys did work hard to create a sense of glamour at the street level. Posters blanketed downtown, ads were placed, and they had good connections with a handful of Toronto music journalists. While CFNY had the most obvious and significant programming overlap with the club’s bookings, particularly during the Ivar Hamilton and David Marsden years, both CHUM-FM and Q-107 featured some adventurous programming back then as well. Q-107 host Bob Mackowycz Sr. was frequently at The Edge and played many of its visiting bands on his popular 6 O’Clock Rock Report. Gary Topp even hosted a weekly show on the Q dubbed The Edge of Morning, Sundays from 1-2 a.m., in 1980.

Poster courtesy of Don Pyle.

The Garys saw the club as a springboard for emergent local acts.

“We nurtured a lot of local groups who got signed from playing regularly at The Edge and from being promoted the same ways we would promote The Police or whoever,” says Topp.

He namechecks more than a dozen Toronto acts of the time, including The Mods, Drastic Measures, The Sharks, The Curse, Spoons, Battered Wives, The Demics, The Dishes, Johnny and the G-Rays, Blue Peter, and The B-Girls.

“The B-Girls should have been The Go-Gos or The Bangles,” says Topp. “They deserved it, but they lived in small-town Ontario—that is, Toronto—so people didn’t believe in them.”

Martha and the Muffins certainly benefitted, both from frequent bookings and by snagging Arthur Fogel as tour manager. Fogel was a young musician hired by Derek Andrews; he was first a bartender and then made night manager. He worked at The Edge for about two years, before leaving to work with the Muffins and then at Concert Productions International (CPI).

“The Edge somehow [caught] the spirit of the time,” says Fogel. “It was cutting edge yet down to earth. It was kind of like seeing great artists in your living room.”

“It was an exciting time, and The Edge was one of the best venues Rough Trade ever played at,” says Pope. “It was hip, and everyone wanted to play there. The audience was really into it and The Garys were great to work with. They were music aficionados who really got it. So many bands launched their careers there.”

“Rough Trade was one of my favourite regular bands at the club,” Andrews says. “They filled the place, and were a perfect fit for our aesthetic. I fondly remember my parents joining me on a birthday night when I had to work, and Rough Trade was playing. The band must have already had their ‘High School Confidential’ hit because my folks were impressed that they were at the club. When Carole Pope grabbed her crotch, my dad covered mom’s eyes. They liked the show, though!”

That was part of The Edge’s charm: Audiences were a mix of in-the-know Queen Street types, queer art-school kids, and people who came from all over Southern Ontario to see bands that often played nowhere else in the region.

Poster courtesy of Gary Topp.

Who else played/worked there: “Considering the level of talent that appeared consistently, The Edge was a special place to be,” says Ivar Hamilton, who’s worked in marketing and promotion at Universal Music for the past 24 years. He remembers many favourites.

“The first Canadian show by Magazine was simply fantastic! I saw Ultravox in the John Foxx era, numerous Pere Ubu appearances, The Police’s second Canadian show, Penetration, Shrapnel, many appearances by Chris Spedding and Jonathan Richman. 999 tore the roof off the place, Nash the Slash almost had a second home there, and I remember a very early Martha and the Muffins playing, too.”

Nash The Slash at The Edge. Photo courtesy of Gary Topp.

Don Pyle—who played The Edge as part of punk band Crash Kills Five before going on to form Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet with two of the three other band members—also caught dozens and dozens of shows. He photographed many of them, with the results included in his great 2011 book Trouble In the Camera Club.

Courtesy of Don Pyle.

“It was easy to go four nights a week,” says Pyle. “Bands I recall most vividly are The Dils, partly because I had helped book the shows and was a huge fan. XTC was really memorable because they were so great at that time, and it was still somewhat rare to see bands that had come from punk scenes with keyboards. Barry Andrews was so captivating to watch. Colin Newman [of Wire] played one of his first solo shows there, with light only coming from a film projected onto his band. Psychedelic Furs performed, without an album out in North America, and were totally amazing at that time. The Cramps played a few times, and were always incredible.”

The list of artists that performed at The Edge during its less-than-three-years is simply mind-blowing. Others who should be mentioned include Mink DeVille, John Cale, Alex Chilton, Squeeze, John Hammond, Joan Jett, Nona Hendryx, Echo and the Bunnymen, Simple Minds, The Teardrop Explodes, William Burroughs, X, and The Knack. (“They had all of these sponsored Marshall amps and they couldn’t get them to work—ridiculous,” chuckles Topp.) Joy Division was scheduled to perform May 25, 1980, but cancelled their North American tour when singer Ian Curtis committed suicide one week earlier.

John Cale at The Edge. Photo courtesy of Gary Topp.

A band that practically personified The Edge was Dick Duck & the Dorks. Singer Paul Ekness, like many of the band’s merry punksters, worked at the club and added to its family feel. John Otway would later bring them over to tour the U.K. and Scandinavia with him.

“There was a core of regulars that was relatively small, so everyone who was there often knew each other,” recalls Pyle. “Some people had been with The Garys since The New Yorker, like filmmaker Colin Brunton, who worked the door and box office, and a bouncer named Tank. The bands and the staff together created the atmosphere that was so different from most venues.“

Cook Catherine Lalande would cater The Garys’ shows through the years while bartender Chris Pegg went on to do lighting with them before forming his own company.

Derek Andrews also credits Edge staff including bookkeeper Jayne Martin, now a production manager; waitress Julia Sasso, now a leading choreographer; and Jordy Sharp, an ace busboy who would go on to buy The Brunswick House and hire Andrews to book Albert’s Hall.

“Jordy’s dad is Issy Sharp, of Four Seasons Hotels,” says Andrews. “Jordy was worth $600 million when he was clearing tables.”

“A good bunch of people worked hard, and had fun while making the club a great place to perform or to see a show,” summarizes Fogel, now CEO of Global Touring at Live Nation Entertainment. He’s organized tours for the likes of Bowie, The Police, Madonna, U2, and Lady Gaga. “The Edge holds its place as a great moment in time in the rich tradition of Toronto live music clubs.”

“The Edge years added important ingredients to the Toronto music menu,” adds Andrews. “It forever enhanced the credibility of Toronto as a music centre, and inspired thousands to believe that contemporary music culture deserved respect and attention. Gary Cormier and Gary Topp made that club a beacon, and deserve credit for the music alchemy it enjoyed.”

“It’s like I always say: When you break all the rules, everything is wrong, but it’s right,” says Cormier.

The Edge’s final flyers. Courtesy of Gary Topp.

What happened to it: Though nights at The Edge were generally busy, the momentum was hard to maintain. Daytime restaurant sales had also slowed, and related expenses were high.

“The morning and lunch business actually suffered as a result of the brisk night business,” says Andrews, who worked in the building until a few weeks after The Edge closed. “It was harder to create a pleasant atmosphere after 200 sweaty, smoking youth pounded the place.”

Andrews reveals that staff paycheques had begun to bounce in the final months of The Edge, and the club’s owners closed it abruptly.

“The building was bought by the Catholic Church, and turned into a home for troubled youth,” says Andrews, who went on to also program at The Horseshoe and Harbourfront Centre, and is now Music Curator and Artist Manager for Luminato. “We all thought that was ironic, given the previous use: troubled youth and all.”

The Edge closed on June 6, 1981 as British singer-songwriter Kevin Coyne played the last of a three-night stint, his only Canadian shows ever. The Garys had tried to book Coyne for years and, in fact, had taken a chance on The Police because guitarist Andy Summers also played with Coyne.

By that point, The Garys had already begun booking larger concert venues like The Music Hall, Palais Royale, and The Concert Hall. They continued to set the pace throughout the 1980s, also bringing bands to large clubs like The Diamond and RPM.

Cormier now teaches concert promotion at George Brown College, and programs shows for the Toronto Jazz Festival and elsewhere.

Topp also remains active—and selective—as a concert promoter. On November 12, he presents Lydia Lunch—who once performed at The Edge as part of no-wave group 8-Eyed Spy—at Wrongbar, alongside The Dave Howard Singers and Yamantaka // Sonic Titan.

Ron Chapman went on to manage bands, produce films, and now runs marketing and communications company Brandworks.

Steven Leckie is at work on three books, two of them “deep memoirs,” and the other a poetry collection he expects to be available by year’s end.

70 Gerrard St. E. is now the location of Mary’s Home Emergency Shelter for women.

70 Gerrard Street East today.

Thank you to Arthur Fogel, Carole Pope, David Barnard, Derek Andrews, Don Pyle, Gary Cormier, Gary Topp, Ivar Hamilton, John Otway, and Steven Leckie.

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

Article originally published September 12. 2012 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

We revisit the crown jewel of late-‘80s Toronto nightlife, where everyone from house enthusiasts to members of Pink Floyd felt right at home.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: The Diamond Club, 410 Sherbourne St.

Years in operation: 1984-1991

History: While Torontonians have known 410 Sherbourne as a dance club and concert venue for almost three decades, the building was once home to music and theatrics of a different sort. Starting in the 1950s, the German-Canadian Club Harmonie offered everything from community gatherings to oom-pah bands to ballroom dancing at the address.

In the early 1980s, New Yorker Pat Kenny entered the picture. At the time, Kenny owned or co-owned three Manhattan clubs: Greenwich Village rock spots The Bitter End and Kenny’s Castaways (now run by his son), and larger dance club and concert venue The Cat Club.

“Pat was called ‘The Bard of Bleeker Street’ because he was a larger-than-life character, and extremely well known in New York,” says Toronto club and music-industry veteran Randy Charlton, who worked for Kenny. “He helped break the careers of a lot of struggling young artists in the 1960s into the ’70s, like Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, and Mark Knopfler before Dire Straits was well known.”

Though based in New York, Kenny took an interest in Toronto. Friends involved in The Village Gate nightclub and dinner theatre wanted to open an offshoot location here; Kenny opened it at 410 Sherbourne, with Club Harmonie still holding court in a small space within the building. After a few unsuccessful productions, the dinner theatre folded, and Kenny rented the entire building to open a nightclub.

The Diamond would open by early summer of 1984, with Randy Charlton as general manager and director of entertainment. Kenny had approached Charlton while the latter managed Sparkles disco, at the top of the CN Tower. Kenny wanted to hire Sparkles’ weekend resident DJ, Paul Cohen, to spin Thursdays at The Diamond, and invited Charlton to come see what was being developed.

“Within a week, I had left Sparkles and started over there,” Charlton says.

The Diamond’s entryway.

Conceived as a sister spot to the Cat Club, The Diamond initially ran Thursdays through Saturdays.

“Essentially, when we opened, we were a dance club,” explains Charlton during an extended phone interview. “There were occasional concerts, but that wasn’t our main focus during the first year or so.”

Charlton, Kenny, and their team of staff developed a theatrical, versatile venue with impressive sound and lighting. The Diamond’s large stage, which ran along much of the west wall, soon featured uninhibited audiences dancing to top DJs or bands who could be seen from almost anywhere in the club. A balcony ran overhead, with chairs and tables below it, while a sizable DJ booth and small VIP area were also raised well above the crowd. Food was served in a restaurant located at the back of the club, in a room that became known as The Grapevine.

Given that the area was largely residential, sound complaints were an issue early on.

“Jack Layton was the riding’s councillor at the time and I think that, in the first six months, I spent more time with him than I did running the club,” laughs Charlton. “Eventually, we worked things out, got some support in the neighbourhood, and managed to win Jack over. He went from fighting against us to wanting on the guest list to see bands.”

Randy Charlton with former Diamond manager Sharron Robert. Photo courtesy of Charlton.

Why it was important: “The Diamond became the most famous club in the country,” says Jason “Deko” Steele, a DJ/producer who became synonymous with the club’s success as its main weekend resident.

“Management made sure we had a brilliant staff, and the booking agents brought in the very best. We were constantly in the news and on MuchMusic, which was the formidable force at the time. Then there were the weekends; there was always a huge lineup, often all the way up to Wellesley, as the club was usually at capacity by 10 p.m.”

Hired a few months after The Diamond opened, Steele was a pioneering presence who’d started as a teenage disco DJ in the late 1970s, playing at Montreal’s popular Club 1234 during its original incarnation.

“I was visiting from Montreal, and everyone was talking about this ‘amazing’ new club, The Diamond,” says Steele of his introduction to the hotspot. “In those days, if you were from Montreal, it was laughable that Toronto could have a ‘real’ dance club so we went to check it out. Seriously, the second I walked into the main room, I thought, ‘I have to and will work here.’ I was stupefied by the straight-out-of-New York ghetto chic, and enigmatic ambience that the room exuded. The layout, the sound system, the lights, and DJ booth were all so intoxicating.”

“The Diamond was a unique experience at the time,” agrees lighting pro Andrée Emond, a Diamond staffer during its first two years who went on to work at The Copa, Stages, and other clubs. “It had great, high ceilings over the dancefloor and the lighting was very theatrical.

“In the early days, Pat Kenny made sure the club created an experience for patrons. Themes were used; one year was Paris in the 1920s. I still recall the complete installation of a working fire escape as part of a Chicago or New York back-alley theme. A dance troupe even entertained the crowd at peak time on weekend nights.

“Jason ‘Wheels of Steel’ was the DJ I worked most with,” adds Emond, now a web developer and teacher. “His style was upbeat and perfect for the place on the weekend. Rawle James also played many nights, and his musical style was much funkier and melodic. I also recall DJs Marva Jackson and Ivan Palmer. It was wonderful to do lights and spend time with each of them.”

“Andrée was ace,” offers Jackson, unprompted, in an email. ”She set the mood with lights brilliantly.”

Marva Jackson during her Diamond days. Photo courtesy of her.

A popular CKLN radio host and DJ, Jackson played a variety of nights and events early on at The Diamond. She drew in the downtown hipsters with her blend of northern soul, dance music, and rock, even hosting a short-lived indie rock Wednesday night called Rainbow’s End.

“I loved The Diamond, which was the largest venue I’d played,” says the artist-supporting media-marketing consultant now known as Marva Jackson Lord. “I loved the different kinds of audiences the club had, with their eclectic programming. I could play whatever I wanted. My main goal was to introduce new music to the mix, and still keep people dancing.”

Though widely varied in their approaches, The Diamond’s core resident DJs were inventive and diverse. They had to be, as they peered down from the booth at audiences of downtowners and suburbanites who ranged in race, sexual orientation, and musical preferences. The Diamond DJs played all night long—or opened and closed for live performers—and so needed strong programming skills as they moved between sounds.

“At the time, we played everything from rock to house, hip-hop, R&B, alternative and anything in between,” explains Rawle James, a Toronto dance-music record-store veteran and DJ/producer who started at The Diamond as Jason Steele’s backup.

James recalls a list of his Diamond favourites, with artists ranging from New Order, Depeche Mode, and Psychedelic Furs to Heavy D, De La Soul, Tone Loc, and Ten City.

“My favourite songs were always the ones that drove the crowd into a singing, raging frenzy,” shares Steele, citing ABC, Tears for Fears, The Romantics, Prince, Madonna, Divine, Pet Shop Boys, Mary Jane Girls, Bronski Beat, and Soul II Soul, among others.

“For the entire ’80s, the crowds were rife with a newfound sense of excitement and freedom,” says Steele, also a groundbreaking house-music DJ. “It was the first time in ages that people had the chance to commit to more than one style of music, let alone have lots of variety in the dance tunes that were being played in clubs. The dancefloor was more eager for variety than anytime ever before.”

Famous not only for his skills and selections, Steele served it all up with attitude and a very vocal mic presence.

“At any given moment, if I felt there was energy lacking, I’d put my finger on the record, stop it and scream those famous words: ‘I can’t heeeeeeear you!’”

While The Diamond began largely as a dance club, it became increasingly recognized as a top concert spot. With a legal capacity of 1,200, it was a sizable venue that could feel cozy, especially with its stage placement.

“We had the stage along the [west] side because we felt that made it more intimate,” explains Charlton, the club’s main booker. “People almost formed a semi-circle around the stage, and everybody was really close to the artists.”

This proved popular with bands and promoters alike, and The Diamond helped catapult many Queen Street and Canadian bands to new heights. Cowboy Junkies did a two-month residency in The Grapevine and then moved to The Diamond’s main stage before conquering Massey Hall and the world. Martha and the Muffins, Parachute Club, Images In Vogue, Pursuit of Happiness, Jane Siberry, The Jeff Healey Band, Bourbon Tabernacle Choir, Blue Peter, and countless other locals all performed, as did Alanis Morissette, k.d. lang, and other now-huge names from across the nation.

“I think of the days of paying The Tragically Hip a hundred dollars and a case of beer to drive from Kingston to open a show,” chuckles Charlton. “Then they got to the point where they would headline shows, and each time they did better. Obviously, they outgrew the venue, but I think they probably played three or four more times as a ‘thank you’ for the role we played in getting them to that place before they fully moved on.”

Charlton also booked Blue Rodeo very early in the band’s career, including as openers for two sold-out Kris Kristofferson concerts in 1986. Kristofferson arrived in time to see them.

“Kris loved their set,” says Charlton. “When he went on that night, he said, ‘It’s an absolute pleasure to be sharing the stage with Blue Rodeo tonight. They’re the most righteous band I’ve seen since Buddy Holly & The Crickets.’”

A big fan of roots, rock, country and blues, Charlton also co-managed artists including Jeff Healey Band and Rita Chiarelli, and was one of the first people to bring Emmylou Harris and Steve Earle to Canada.

His vision helped establish The Diamond as a more prominent concert venue than the club’s similarly sized main competitors, The Copa and RPM. The Diamond’s reputation even spread to one very prominent musician.

“In 1987, David Bowie specifically chose The Diamond to do a live mid-day broadcast on MuchMusic as a teaser for his Glass Spider tour,” recalls Charlton, who packed the club with Bowie fans as well as invited media. “The show aired nationwide, and was picked up by television stations around the world. Bowie performed that night at The Ex, and then came back to The Diamond and had a private party.”

The late 1980s also saw Pink Floyd perform at The Diamond after a three-night stint at Exhibition Place. Band members David Gilmour, Rick Wright, and Nick Mason hung out at the club often during the three months that Pink Floyd rehearsed at a Pearson Airport hangar in preparation for a world tour. Their performance for a packed Diamond—under the alias of The Fishermen—paid off a substantial bar tab.

Another night, Supertramp followed a show at Maple Leaf Gardens with a set at The Diamond. (They performed 90 minutes of R&B covers.) Celebrity sightings and unannounced performances were commonplace.

“The status of the venue had all the major labels dropping by with their celebs,” recalls Steele. “Hot hit stars, like Talk Talk, Apollonia 6, and E.G. Daily, would frequently show up and do an impromptu performance. Jermaine Stewart blew up the joint with “‘We Don’t Have to Take Our Clothes Off.’”

Steele is full of such stories, also mentioning an afternoon spent “getting stupid with the insane members of Sigue Sigue Sputnik,” along with meeting a vast array of stars, from Petula Clark, Tiny Tim, Divine and KISS’ Paul Stanley to Don “Get Smart” Adams and Leonard “Dr. Spock” Nimoy.

“I remember hanging out after hours in the managers’ office with John Candy, getting blasted, and listening to one hysterical true story after another. He was so cool and über-nice.”

Steele is also proud to have DJed the first Fashion Cares event, held at The Diamond in 1987 to raise funds and awareness in the early battle against AIDS. On a related note, The Diamond’s Wednesday nights—helmed by event producers, promoters and then-partners Wanda Marcotte and Irena Joannides—were a beacon for Toronto’s fashion set from the late 1980s into early ’90s.

“Our night started as ‘Dance Into Fashion Wednesdays,’ and brought together the cool fashion, art, and media crowd by incorporating fashion shows, concerts, performance, dance, and special events,” explains Joannides.

Initially, DJs Jason Steele and Ivan Palmer played an array of underground sounds while incipient fashion designers like Izzy Camilleri and Dean and Dan Caten showed their creations. A few months in, a solo Steele borrowed a page from DJ Barry Harris’ groundbreaking Sunday nights at The Copa, and focused more heavily on an emerging new sound: house music.

A month later, the Wednesday crowd had grown from 300 to 1,500 and more. Capacity was reached early, with people then spilling over to the parking lot across the street, where they created their own parties.

“The crowd was diverse—something unheard of in a mainstream venue at the time —bringing together people of various ethnicities and sexual orientations. This was the big strength of the night, and its impact on so many levels,” says Joannides, now a film and television writer/director. (Marcotte passed away from ovarian cancer roughly a decade ago).

“It was the loudest and danciest crowd I had ever spun for,” says Steele, then also immersed in underground dance music as co-creator and editor of StreetSound Magazine.

“That was so early in the house music scene that I would literally buy every single house track that came in to shops,” Steele adds. “In those days, kids like Peter, Tyrone and Shams, Mitch Winthrop, Dino and Terry, and Nick Holder would come and listen to the music that would soon become a major part of their lives. Nothing would have ever happened without Wanda and Irena, though. Wanda was a formidable force; you either loved her or were afraid of her.”

Rawle James concurs: “Wanda was everywhere, worked hard, was very humble and boy did she know how to throw a party. The Diamond’s Wednesday nights were legendary. I remember moisture running down the walls. The room was hot in more ways than one, and Jason would drive them crazy.”

Joannides provides a clear example of the crowd’s commitment to grooves.

“One Wednesday, David Gilmour from Pink Floyd asked to play live; we had a crowd that was interested only in dancing and listening to house music. When Gilmour went on stage and started playing Pink Floyd material, the crowd was obviously disinterested. Realizing this, he brought up his back-up singers, and started playing Motown classics. The crowd responded well to that.”

Diamond staff photo by Gokche Erkan (www.gokcheerkan.com). All rights reserved.

Who else played/worked there: Few other DJs played at The Diamond with any regularity. Of note is former StreetSound managing editor Chris Torella, also known for his many years spent working at Starsound record shop. Now a video producer based in N.Y.C., Torella turned The Grapevine into a soul and disco hangout on weekends for some time.

The list of notable live acts that performed at The Diamond over the years is huge, especially as top promoters like The Garys, CPI, Elliott Lefko, and the late Lance Ingleton brought a lot of shows to the stage.

The Garys alone booked in dozens of shows, with Gary Topp pointing to personal favourites including Sun Ra, Waterboys, Psychic TV, John Cale and Chris Spedding, Mink de Ville, Ornette Coleman, Bob Mould, Pere Ubu, Hawkwind, Marianne Faithfull, and Gwar.

“Watching Gwar make blood and body parts all afternoon, repairing  costumes, and getting made-up was most memorable,” says Topp. “They were a true artists’ collective. They were brilliant.”

“I went to as many concerts there as I could, even when I wasn’t DJing,” says Jackson, citing everyone from Loudon Wainwright III and Long John Baldry to Julian Lennon and Burton Cummings.

“My fave was Diamanda Galas in 1985, though. I was ecstatic about that show. Also, Run-D.M.C. played one night and I DJed. I remember noticing how the hip-hop crowd and the heavy rock crowd all nodded their heads in the same way.”

James points to stellar shows by Thomas Dolby, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Jane’s Addiction, Sinead O’Connor, Tracy Chapman, and Doug & the Slugs.

“The Fishbone concert especially stands out to me,” says James. “It was early evening on a Friday, and not a packed house, but they took the stage and blew the roof off the venue with the most energetic show I’d ever seen.”

A YouTube search also turns up Diamond concert footage from the likes of Sonic Youth, Daniel Lanois, Pere Ubu, and Dalbello, who makes her way through a packed room.

Off stage, The Diamond worked so well because its staff did.

“Kinga, Gidget and, later, Dawna at the door and coat check were the faces of the club and set the pace with their extremely ambiguous cross of punk and glam,” offers Steele.

Charlton also points to security and promotions man Jim Zeppa, front-door figure Mickey Power, and in-house publicist Sharon Garvey as key.

Musician Tim Welch was a main lighting tech for The Diamond’s entire history while National Velvet vocalist Maria Del Mar worked coat check. Fellow musician Drew Rowsome, now also a FAB magazine editor, tended bar. The staff list is extensive, with a long list of contributors gathered on this Diamond-related Facebook page.

“I also remember this guy Paul we used to call Mr. Dressup,” shares Steele. “He’d arrive nightly with his suitcase full of outfits, and then spend the night behaving in a most peculiar fashion. All at once, he’d do a pirouette across the dancefloor. I miss him.”

Diamond regular Paul Crossen (left) with Kinga, performer and Diamond staffer. Photo courtesy of Crossen.

What happened to it: After spinning at The Diamond for most of its seven years—he broke from the fold to DJ at The Copa for a stretch—Jason Steele lost his residency late in 1990. Audience numbers dropped sharply.

“Draw your own conclusions, but when I left, the place was at capacity on the weekends and very shortly thereafter the doors were closed forever,” says Steele, who went on to DJ at Klub Max, become a Toronto rave pioneer, and release records as Deko! on Plus 8 sister label Probe.

Randy Charlton offers another set of circumstances.

“The building had been sold the previous year and there was a fair bit of acrimony between the new owners, who were a couple of lawyers, and Pat Kenny. The lease was up, there were negotiations… and, well, the money that they wanted was too much in Pat’s mind. He also felt that bigger clubs tend to have a finite lifespan as a certain name. The lease expired December 27, 1990, and I was able to convince the two lawyers to let us get through New Year’s Eve. I tried to see if I could work something out with them to keep going but, by Jan. 16, Pat had pulled out and the owners basically shut us down.”

The Diamond closed and Charlton went on to work at venues including Albert’s Hall, Club 279 at the Hard Rock Café, and Jeff Healey’s Roadhouse. Charlton is now a talent buyer and assistant general manager at Sound Academy.

“I can safely say there has never been another club like The Diamond, as far as notoriety and fame for valid purposes,” summarizes Steele. “It was the hottest and most acclaimed live music and dance club venue. I’m not entirely sure any of us knew how much we’d miss it after the fact, and still do decades later.”

For the past decade, Steele has owned and operated PartyBusCanada.com, and continues to produce music.

Pat Kenny passed away in 2002, at the age of 73.

Eleven months after The Diamond closed at 410 Sherbourne, The Phoenix Concert Theatre rose in its place. The building was not greatly changed, although the westerly wall where The Diamond’s main stage once stood became The Phoenix’ long main bar. The Phoenix’ north-side stage was an elevated bar area at The Diamond.

The Phoenix has now operated successfully for more than 20 years. A documentary about its history, titled Strange Parody, Rise of a Generation, is currently in the works.

Thank you to Randy Charlton, Andrée Emond, Rawle James, Irena Joannides, Marva Jackson Lord, Jason Steele, Chris Torella, and Gary Topp for participating, as well as to David Barnard, Paul Crossen, Gokche Erkan, Stuart Berman, and Valdine Zakzanis.

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

Article originally published August 10, 2012 by The Grid online (thegridto.com).

The legendary Spadina venue has just been sold for a reported $3 million, with its new owners promising to return the club to its late-‘70s glory days. But in this edition of her nightlife-history series, Denise Benson looks back at the people and parties that kept this Toronto landmark alive during its leanest years.

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: The El Mocambo Tavern, 464 Spadina Ave.

Years in operation: 1946-present. Here, I focus specifically on the era spanning 1989-2001.

History: Arguably Toronto’s most illustrious live music venue, Spadina’s historic El Mocambo Tavern has meant many things to many people over the past 66 years: soul and blues hub, revered rock and roots venue, queer-punk hotbed. The building itself is said to date back to 1850, and to have acted as a haven for escaped slaves in a part of the city that was long home to a sizable African-Canadian community.

The El Mocambo, complete with infamous palm-tree sign, opened in the 1940s as a two-floor live music venue, and was granted one of Toronto’s earliest liquor licences. While it’s never been fancy, the El Mo boasts an incredible rock, soul, jazz, and blues pedigree. Charles Mingus, Muddy Waters, Willie Dixon, Jimi Hendrix, Stevie Ray Vaughan, The Guess Who, Elvis Costello, Lou Reed, U2, Blondie, and The Ramones all played there, as did a certain British band that performed two nights under the pseudonym of The Cockroaches.

“The Rolling Stones’ shows in 1977 put The El Mocambo on the ‘world stage,’” says longtime local music booker Enzo Petrungaro, who co-owned the venue from 1989 to 1992.

“It was probably the most talked-about club in the world during the days that followed, not only because of the scandals—the Prime Minister’s newly separated wife seen running around with the band, and Keith Richards’ subsequent bust at the hotel—but it was the first time in many years that The Stones played such an intimate venue. And they were stellar performances!”

Stones fans know that the shows resulted in side three of the band’s Love You Live album. In the years that followed, the El Mo was at times considered a coveted, A-list club and, at other points, a shoddy spot to be avoided—a perception largely contingent on who owned it at the time.

Look past the club’s “glory years” of 1972 through the mid-’80s—when owners Michael Baird and Tom Kristenbrun worked mainly with in-house booker David Bluestein—and you’ll find a long list of subsequent owners and operators, some lasting less than a year.

In light of the recent sale of both the El Mocambo Tavern’s building and business to Sam Grosso (owner of Cadillac Lounge) and Marco Petrucci (of 99 Sudbury), we examine a crucial turning point in the club’s history: the period of 1989 through 2001.

These transformative, albeit tumultuous, 12 years begin with the El Mo’s purchase by Petrungaro and end with its sale to Abbas Jahangiri. In between, there were successful stretches, many colourful characters, and a number of sudden closures.

Why 1989-2001 were important years at The El Mocambo: Encouraged by earlier El Mo owner Shaun Pilot, Enzo Petrungaro and a silent partner bought into the business at a point when the crowds weren’t coming. They began with widespread renovations.

“We immediately moved the stage [from the east side] back to the middle of the room upstairs, then gutted and rebuilt the dressing rooms, washrooms, kitchen and offices,” recalls Petrungaro. “We tore down and rebuilt all the bars, complete with new draft lines and pumps, installed new flooring, central air conditioning, exposed all of the bricks, and thoroughly cleaned and painted the entire space.

“We also built the staircase to the second floor at the back because the original one was condemned. This is where the bands would load-in their equipment. The renovations were extensive, expensive, and very necessary. Once we opened, the music was all that mattered.”

As a talent booker, Petrungaro didn’t limit the El Mocambo to specific sounds. He credits Pilot and industry veteran Joe Bamford with helping to fill the calendar in his early days, with local promoters and bands soon taking interest.

“We installed a great-sounding PA system upstairs, and a similar, scaled-down version for the ground floor. In spite of all the challenges and complaints with the building—the load-ins were a struggle, there were too many stairs to get to a dressing room with no private washroom, and you had to walk through the crowd to get to the stage—artists still loved performing there. The stage sounded great, the room sounded great, and the seating virtually enveloped the stage, creating a very unique and intimate experience not only for fans, but also for the artists.”

Petrungaro booked a number of respected artists in for weekly residencies, with acts like Danny Marks, Paul James, and Jack de Keyzer repping on the rock and blues front, while the-then-unknown Barenaked Ladies hosted their Barenaked Circus. Popular Front would also transform into The Lowest of the Low during their El Mo run. Arlene Bishop, Ron Sexsmith, Johnny Lovesin, and Alix Anthony all hosted residencies too, and an all-ages Saturday matinee-cum-jamboree with Melody Ranch proved popular.

This three-year period could be thought of as a second set of “glory days,” as Petrungaro and his partner made a viable go of it. Back then, up ‘n’ comers like Amanda Marshall, The Holly Cole Trio, Bourbon Tabernacle Choir, and Leslie Spit Treeo were booked regularly, alongside touring acts that ranged from blues/soul artists Rory Gallagher and James Cotton to folkies Fairport Convention and Sylvia Tyson, from alt-rockers The Feelies and Dead Milkmen to iconic industrial act KMFDM.

Sean D’Andrade with Buddy Guy (right) at the El Mo, circa 1992. Photo courtesy of D’Andrade.

Petrungaro has a number of El Mocambo shows from this era that he still considers personal favourites, among them “Pere Ubu; Buddy Guy, because afterwards he said it was one of his favourite stages to play in the world; Dr. John, because my late brother Sam was a huge fan and got to meet him and walk him to the stage; and Gonzalo Rubalcaba with Charlie Haden and Jack DeJohnette, because it was a super show from an extreme super-group. The Tom Robinson Band put on a great show, but it was also memorable because Rob Halford came in after his Judas Priest show at Maple Leaf Gardens and sat to watch from my table.”

Although they raised The El Mocambo’s profile and popularity, Petrungaro and his partner handed over the keys in 1992 when the building’s landlord requested a big rent increase. Petrungaro went on to book The Opera House for five years and has been the General Manager and booker at The Phoenix since 1997.

“In my opinion, Enzo and [his partner] were the last ‘great’ owners of the venue—it’s been a free-for-all since they closed,” states local concert-industry veteran Jeff Cohen. Cohen himself worked as an El Mo booker twice before going on to co-own Horseshoe Tavern, Lee’s Palace, Collective Concerts, and other businesses.

“When I was hired by Tom, the next owner [Editor's note: not to be confused with Tom Kristenbrun], in 1993 or so, my interest was to revive the venue to where they’d had it,” Cohen says. “I got the best of the local alterna-bands, like The Rheostatics, Bourbon Tabernacle Choir, The Waltons, and Furnaceface to play there weekends, and filled the mid-week with touring blues and roots music acts. On the first floor, we went no-cover and developed local acts like Headstones, Days of You, and The Mahones.

“I had the venue rocking during my first tenure as the talent buyer but, after two years, Tom fired me, saying he felt he could book it as well as me. Eight months later, the club went bankrupt.”

Cohen did another stint of booking for a new set of owners at The El Mocambo in 1996, but remained for less than a year before heading to the Horseshoe.

Musician William New also worked to keep the El Mo afloat during the turmoil of the mid-1990s. The Groovy Religion vocalist and main man behind three-decade-strong indie showcase Elvis Monday had already booked clubs including the original Drake Hotel and The Edgewater before coming to amp up the El Mocambo for five years, beginning in 1993.

His job was to fill both floors of the club seven nights per week, an impossible task as owners came and went.

“During the time that I was booking, I worked for five different situations of ownership, including a couple of landlord-in-possessions,” explains New. “What would happen is someone would disappear in the middle of the night; I’d come to work and there would be a padlock on the door. Then the landlord would want to keep it open while he would look for a buyer so he would get in touch with me and say, ‘Just keep going. Business as usual.’

First there was the Tom to whom Jeff Cohen referred.

“He told me his name was Tom Ancaster, but that was just the name he worked under,” offers New, who also says that Ancaster simply “disappeared.” [Note: in a comment posted November 26, 2012, in response to the original publication of this article, Ancaster states that his tenure at the El Mo ran from September 1991 to January 1995. He also disputes Cohen's claim that he was fired. See Ancaster's full comment below.]

Next, New recalls that a group of El Mocambo staff members, including soundman Courtney Ross, ran the club for the better part of a year, from 1995 into 1996, before the landlord repossessed and later sold the club to Lamin Dibba and Jim Eng.

New worked for them all, booking in various weeklies over the years, including his own Elvis Monday; John Borra and Frank Nevada’s acoustic Tune Saloon on Tuesdays; the infamous Tribute Wednesdays; and Sedated Sundays, a psychedelic night helmed by Steve Bromstein of Poppyseed & Love Explosion Orchestra.

“I was trying to do an indie-rock and alternative kind of thing, just because that’s all I knew,” says New of his programming focus. “I didn’t know what cover bands or R&B bands were good, despite the fact that the El Mocambo had a long history of doing those types of things. I just booked it as an extension of what I’d been doing at The Drake and Edgewater, and with my Elvis Mondays at various venues. More or less punk rock and edgy alternative stuff.”

New fondly recalls shows by the likes of Pete Best (The Beatles’ original drummer), Steve Hackett (ex-Genesis), and Alex Chilton. His years of Mondays were also celebrated with the 1994 release of Elvis Mondays Vol. 1 on Kinetic Records. Elvis Monday later returned to The Drake Hotel (post-2004 renovation), where they continue to this day.

By June of 1998, The El Mocambo was once again run down and losing patrons. To reverse its fortunes, owners Lamin Dibba and Jim Eng hired passionate, polarizing ex-Montrealer Dan Burke to book their club.

“When I first came to Toronto in November 1977 and listened to CFNY, Q-107 and CHUM FM, I’d always hear, ‘Tonight, under the Neon Palm!’” Burke begins. “When I started booking the club, it was on the doorstep of the glue factory. No concert promoters put shows there. The Neon Palm was an unlit, rusted eyesore. The plug was pretty close to being pulled on what I thought was a fabulous cultural landmark.”

Never known to shy away from a dingy rock bar or a challenge, Burke dug in. He’d spent the year before booking the short-lived Club Shanghai down the street, and had proved to be prescient in his taste. Burke promoted some of the first Toronto appearances by bands including The White Stripes, The Brian Jonestown Massacre, and Montreal’s Tricky Woo.

“I’d quickly learned that, as a new player in the field, I had to tap into acts, labels, and booking agents that weren’t already sewn up by established competitors,” Burke writes in an email interview. “So that’s what I did—and very deeply so—once I was at The El Mocambo. Whatever was cutting-edge—The Toilet Boys from N.Y.C., stoner rock acts from Man’s Ruin Records, nerd heroes like Wesley Willis, electroclash ensembles like Chicks on Speed, Japan’s Zoobombs and The 5,6,7,8s, Montreal’s The Dears—I got the best of them, and made the El Mocambo an important international club again.”

The Deadly Snakes, The Sadies (sometimes with R&B legend Andre Williams), Danko Jones, Sum 41, and Peaches were among the local favourites booked by Burke. He was also responsible for repeat visits by Japanese noise rockers Zoobombs, who recorded their album, Bomb You Live, at the El Mo in April 2000, and released it on Toronto’s Teenage USA label in 2001.

“Being a show promoter is like gambling,” says Burke. “When you win, sometimes you also get to see a great show. When you lose, sometimes you get to see a great show. It’s the greatest job in the world if you can keep going.”

Who else played/worked there: It would be impossible to list all of the key bands, DJs, bookers, and promoters who played a role in The El Mocambo’s story from 1989-2001. Along with rock and roots music, there were goth and glam shows, hip-hop showcases, and even the occasional rave. Punk band The Sinisters played numerous Halloween shows. Hip-hop supergroup Gravediggaz made its Toronto debut at the El Mo in 1994, while Canadian hip-hop icons including Choclair, Rascalz, and Kardinal Offishall introduced their “Northern Touch” collaboration in the same room a few years later.

Video: Aldo Erdic

The seeds of Hot Stepper Productions’ long-running soul-funk monthly, Bump N’ Hustle, can even be traced to 464 Spadina. BNH mastermind Carlos Mondesir got his event-production career started there in 1995 after soundman Courtney Ross “roped me into” promoting the weekly Soul Sundays.

Working with DJ Curtis Smith and tutored by Ross, Mondesir learned to book bands and produce live shows.

Flyer courtesy of Carlos Mondesir.

“It made me a far more versatile promoter, coming from a DJ-focused club world,” says Mondesir, who brought performers including k-os, Jacksoul, Medeski Martin & Wood, Arcee and Fatski, Blaxam, Jukejoint, and Camille Douglas to the El Mo’s upstairs stage.

“There was an obvious history of soul and blues at the club, but we were into an updated soul style fused with new beats. My first gigs with DJs like Paul E. Lopes, Mike Tull, Jason Palma, Vancouver’s Luke McKeehan, and Atlanta’s DJ Injex were all there, too.”

But there are two DJ-driven events that will forever be synonymous with The El Mocambo in the late 1990s through to 2001: Davy Love’s Blow Up and Will Munro’s Vaseline (later renamed Vazaleen after threats of legal action from the namesake skin-care manufacturer).

DJ/promoter Davy Love’s incredibly popular Saturday weekly was “all about British pop music from the 1960s through 2000s,” says the man himself. ”We played indie, underground, massive sellers, and the way-out stuff, too.”

Davy Love at the El Mo. Photo courtesy of Davy Love.

Blow Up ran for more than 10 years at almost as many venues, including two stints at the El Mo. His first was in 1996; he would move the night, which drew more than 500 well-dressed, fiercely loyal followers each week, back to the venue in 1998 because he liked its new owners and vibe.

“Lamin and Jim are two of the nicest, most honest, straight-shooting guys I’ve ever dealt with in clubland,” shares Love, who also encouraged Dan Burke to come work for them.

The crowd at Blow Up. Photo courtesy of Davy Love.

“I also loved the venue, and its down-and-dirty history. I saw many shows there when I was a teenager. The El Mo will always be the greatest rock ‘n’ roll landmark in this city; it was the perfect place for Blow Up to thrive. It had just the right amount of seediness and rock ‘n’ roll-ness that appealed to both the pretty, rich kids who were out to rebel against their parents and the downtown working kids/art students who spent all their cash from their minimum-wage jobs on Saturday nights.”

Love was joined by DJs Duncan Rands, Adam Gorley, Johnny Culbert, and the duo of Trevor Young and Darrell Joseph a.k.a Bangers & Mash (“which was which, we never knew”). Bands, including Stars, performed live before the party got underway. Welsh band Super Furry Animals guest DJed, partied through the night (“It went on till the cleaners came in at 10 a.m. the next day”), and later asked Love to remix their 2003 single “Hello Sunshine.”

The celebs who frequented Blow Up were not limited to musicians.

“We had Will Ferrell and Janeane Garofalo dancing and drinking it up one night, and Dave Foley came many times,” spills Love. “So many famous faces were through Blow Up at the El Mo, but it was never a big deal to anyone. They were just having fun like everyone else.”

After all, the main attraction was Blow Up’s music, which blasted out of a powerful system set up for live music.

“The sound system was amazing,” Love extols. “It was a massive stack of speakers that boomed throughout the room. You could actually feel the music hit you, it was so loud.”

Meanwhile, artist Will Munro, along with a wonderfully motley crew of queers, would gather downstairs, monthly on Fridays, for Vaseline.

Dan Burke, who’d been tipped off to Munro by members of The Deadly Snakes (“they were the cornerstone of my local band alliances,” he says), gave Munro the chance to launch his queer-rock extravaganza in January of 2000.

“Will sure knew what he was doing!” exclaims Burke of the DJ/activist who lost his battle with brain cancer in May of 201o. “The first Vaseline drew over 200 people, and it soared from there. It was a fabulous experience working with Will. He was like the United Nations of gay people. What a diverse crowd.”

The Vaseline crew (clockwise from left): Tawny LeSabre, Will Munro, Bennett Jones Philips, Zoe Dodd, and John Caffery. Photo courtesy of Caffery.

“Vaseline was our fantasy event that actually materialized,” says Miss Barbrafisch, the metal-loving DJ who was a Vaseline resident from the start. “It was rockers, punks, metalheads, and misfits, weirdos of all stripes and genders. It was inherently informed by the identity politics of the ’90s, but without the anger. Vaseline was positivity and perversion and great music and great people. Once a month, the outsiders had a clubhouse.

“Vaseline was magical during the El Mo years,” she continues. “The entire historicity of the venue as a distinctly rock venue was a constant reminder that we didn’t need to compromise our musical perspectives.”

“Compromise” is a word that will never be associated with Vaseline.

“Peaches played the first Vaseline ‘Shame’ party,” recalls Kids on TV’s John Caffery, who first graced stages as a go-go dancer there, shaking it up alongside Coco LaCreme at Munro’s behest. “Peaches also played beats when Will pulled a rainbow flag out of his ass.”

That same June 200o Vaseline also featured guest DJ Miss Guy, of Toilet Boys fame. Other early guests included Vaginal Davis, Kembra Pfahler of The Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black, and Cherie Currie, a former member of The Runaways who played live in June 2001, backed by a band of Toronto musicians.

Caffery—who was also game to be involved in Vaseline “stage antics like Bobbing for Butt Plugs, Cock Sucking contests, and Drag Queen Roller Derby”—feels passionately about this night that proved so popular it outgrew the El Mo’s small downstairs room, moved upstairs, and would later go on to pack Lee’s Palace.

“Vaseline was transformative for me, and created this massive shift in the way I perceived Toronto nightlife and the queer and trans community,” he says. “I started to think of clubs as a place to be creative, fuck shit up, and challenge public norms rather than simply a place to drink with friends. It also broke down a lot of the silos I saw within the community, with the bears, punks, leather women, and goths all partying together.”

Blow Up, Vaseline, and Dan Burke’s overall programming shifted the public perception of The El Mocambo. It may have been physically worn, but new audiences meant the club was solvent again.

“By 1999, we were making money,” states Burke. “In 2000 and 2001, we were a highly viable enterprise financially.”

Burke—with the help of Love, Munro, William New and countless bands who played benefit shows—even managed to raise the $22,000 required to fix the El Mo’s landmark palm sign in 1999. It was later damaged.

Blow Up marquee at the El Mo. Photo courtesy of Davy Love.

What happened to it: As has been well documented, 464 Spadina Ave. was sold to Abbas Jahangiri in 2001. His vision put the brakes on the Burke-led rebirth. Burke went out with a two-floor show on November 4, 2001. He also put up a fight and was famously handcuffed and evicted by police afterwards. Burke has long since booked for The Silver Dollar and, occasionally, at The Velvet Underground.

In his 11 years of owning the El Mo, Jahangiri both nurtured and took away. Though plans to transform the upstairs into a dance studio never fully materialized, his renovations reduced the floor—once The El Mocambo’s heart—to a shadow of its former self.

Still, thanks largely to the booking efforts of Yvonne Matsell—who worked under Jahangiri’s direction for the past decade—the club did stay afloat while featuring shows in the refurbished ground-floor room by the likes of Julie Doiron, Patrick Wolf, Holy Fuck, La Roux, and People Under the Stairs. DJs were also more welcome than ever, with dozens of dance parties bringing house, funk, techno, drum ‘n’ bass and more to the two floors. Jahangiri recently decided to sell the building in order to devote his time to missionary work.

New co-owner Grosso has already made it clear that his El Mocambo will return to the rock and roots-music focus of earlier decades. He has referenced The Rolling Stones repeatedly in interviews while expressing sentiments like “we want to bring great rock ‘n’ roll back to the city.”

Grosso also raised many eyebrows by stating flatly that he won’t feature hip-hop. It’s an odd, and questionable, sentiment at a point when the influence of hip-hop is so pervasive across all contemporary music.

“I think Sam has a preference to roots-geared genres,” offers Matsell by email. “After all, he has made the Cadillac Lounge into a successful venue that gears itself to those tastes. He does know that there is some really good hip-hop out there, so perhaps his comment was more off the cuff. Time will tell.”

Matsell, who continues as the El Mo’s main talent booker, tells me that the current priorities are fixing the neon sign, adding air conditioning and proper heating, renovating the bathrooms, and more.

“The upstairs room will be changed to look like when the El Mocambo was having its heydays in the ’70s.”

The reno process is being documented by posts to The Original El Mocambo Tavern Facebook group, where band listings are also found. The El Mo is currently open for shows Thursday through Saturday. Expect a re-launch party come spring.

Although Matsell emphasizes that “I will still book local and upcoming artists; that has always been a mandate in all the years I have been booking clubs,” there is concern that Grosso may just be dwelling a little too heavily on the El Mo’s past.

“I wish Sam the very best,” offers Jeff Cohen. “His other venues are wonderful, but what that venue needs is to reach out to local promoters and book the best new bands in North America, not talk about who played there some 40 years ago. No venue today can survive without being focused on new music, lest it be an oldies club or a generic folk or blues club.”

“I would tell Sam and his partner to embrace the history of the building, but don’t dwell on it,” echoes Enzo Petrungaro. “Make some of your own!”

“Don’t limit your options—you may not have as many as you’d like,” says Mondesir.

That said, one El Mocambo alumnus is eager to return. Davy Love, now owner of The Bristol Yard restaurant, will host his 18th-annual Blow Up Holiday Party there on Dec. 15.

“I booked it the very same day I heard that Sam bought it,” he says.

Addendum: In September 2014, Grosso announced that the El Mocambo had been sold and that the club would close as a live music venue for good. On November 6, the date that the El Mo had been set to shutter its doors, a surprise announcement was made: investment maverick and Dragons’ Den star Michael Wekerle had purchased the building with the intent to keep the El Mocambo alive.  He plans to renovate, and hire an experienced team to help launch the club’s new chapter.

Thank-you to Miss Barbrafisch, Carlos Mondesir, Dan Burke, Davy Love, Enzo Petrungaro, Jeff Cohen, John Caffery, William New, and Yvonne Matsell for contributing. Thanks also to Amy Hersenhoren, Dave Munro, Jonathan Ramos, and Stuart Berman.

The post Then & Now: The El Mocambo, 1989 – 2001 appeared first on Then and Now: Toronto Nightlife History.