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

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

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Turbo Niteclub, 360 Adelaide W.

Years in operation: 2000-2003

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

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

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

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

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

Aaron Micks from Lifeforce. Photo by Jay Futronic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Turbo Niteclub opened in April of 2000.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Donald Glaude turns out Turbo. Photo by Jay Futronic.

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

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

Lifeforce Fridays proved to be immediately popular, however.

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

Tim Patrick and Myka. Photo by Jay Futronic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mike. Photo by Jay Futronic,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Turbo bar staff. Photo by Jay Futronic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Limelight, 250 Adelaide St. W.

Years in operation: 1993-2003

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo courtesy of James Vandervoort.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Limelight promo image courtesy of Eric Robertson.

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

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

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

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

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

Flyer courtesy of Erin O’Connor.

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

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

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

Photo © by Steven Lungley. All rights reserved.

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

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

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

Dancers at PURE Wednesdays. Photo courtesy of Jay Futronic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Popular Limelight bartender Dede Gilser. Photo courtesy of her.

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

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

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

PURE Wednesdays flyers courtesy of Craig Pettigrew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BY: DENISE BENSON

Club: Element Bar, 553 Queen W.

Years in operation: 1999-2004

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DJ Ludikris at Element. Photo courtesy of Tony Mutch.

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

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

Communicate flyer, courtesy of Wayne Mealing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

553 Queen West in 2012

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