|
Happy New Year, Dear Readers. As I send you these wishes for the new year, I’ve found myself fleeing to the past. I’ve grown rather nostalgic of late. I’m not sure whether it’s because of the holiday season, or maybe too many nights filled with spiked eggnog. However, I am really missing the club nights of the past. Those lovely dark days, and even darker nights, when each evening of the week held the promise of good times at a different haunt.
My sentimentality really kicked in about two months ago. I was at a Queen West club on a Sunday night, cuddling with my boy, when instead of enjoying our surroundings, we found ourselves marveling at how downright pathetic the night had become.
Sunday nights at Limelight—now that’s what we craved. Those were good times. On a night when most of the city was preparing for slumber for the work week ahead, those so nocturnally inclined hit the clubs. But that was just on Sunday. What of the rest of the week? A reader sums up the early days of Toronto’s Goth scene:
“It was 1988. At the time there was a club in what is now The Velvet Underground, Club Noir. Man I loved that place, it was like free for all. I instantly knew 40 people when I walked in and the drinks just kept flowing at the bar. From Thursday to Saturday nights it was Club Noir, Sunday was the Lizard Lounge, Monday night was The Empire, Tuesdays & Wednesdays were the rest days. “
Other readers have shared their love for Twilight Zone and Night Gallery, both wildly popular in the 1980s, but had to close the curtain in the early 90s.
For myself, as of the late 1990s, I fondly remember my club week as Thursdays at Velvet, Friday at Studio 69, Saturday at Sanctuary, Sunday at Catch 22 or Limelight. Sometimes, it was Whiskey Saigon when I was feeling more of the 80s vibe.
How times have changed for both generations. I could go on a tirade on why our cool club culture of the 80s and 90s went the way of Bela Lugosi, but being the romantic Goth that I am, I'll stick with reminiscing rather than analysis.
At the tender age of 17 I stepped into Sanctuary, my first dark bar and I immediately fell in love. Heart-pounding music blared through the speakers and the room was packed with people who actually liked what was playing. I didn't know anyone. I was a loner, but somehow I felt like I belonged. I saw fliers for other clubs and ventured forth. I was never disappointed. Every night was a much-needed escape from the every day, the mundane, where I could imbibe and dance until the wee hours, dressed in my finest, enjoying every last beat, feeding off the energy from the crowd of people around me-- Crowd being the operative word.
Funny thing, I never made any real friends at the clubs. I was too shy to do much else but drink and dance. But years later, I discovered that many of my pals now, used to frequent the same spaces, even my boyfriend. I find it a neat cosmic blip that I shared the dance floor, waited for a beer, perhaps even exchanged flirtatious glances with those I now consider my closest friends. But I digress…
Each club was familiar, and comfortable: Catch 22 and its cozy and dark underground cave feel, with fabulous metallic floors. Limelight and it's huge space, and plenty of room to sit. But who wanted to do that with all that fabulous music playing. I never stood still there. And of course, Sanctuary (or Skanktuary as we lovingly referred to it) with its well-worn dance floor, sinking couches and frightful bathrooms. Each were different, each had something in common: a crowd of people with a love of the scene and appreciation of the music.
I was reminded of my Studio 69 days when I went to see Peter Hook in March 2006. It's certainly a more sanitized version, right down to the name (now State Theatre), but the faint ghost of Studio remains- the velvet couches, gothy chandeliers are still in place.
But those fabulous dark nights slowly faded away. Everything seemed to die as 2000 came to a close. All we have left from those days is Velvet Underground. The crowd has changed, the music is, well, mixed. Savage Garden was, and still is a heaven sent. My personal fave is the Dark Retro nights. Yes, I told you I am an old-schooler. It reminds me of the days of yore, and that's what we need more of in our scene.
Now? Sanctuary is Starbucks. Trying to hang on to a thread of its former self, the coffee chain held a Goth night when they opened-- complete with candles and staff clad in black. As an admitted caffeine addict who openly embraces coffee and capitalist Latte-land glory, I have yet to step inside this store. I can't even talk about it. Please pass a tissue. RIP- 2000.
Limelight is now called Afterlife. Yes, I know what you're thinking-- "Cool name! Must be a great club!" That's where the coolness factor ends. Judging from the line-up I've seen, it has fallen prey to the Richmond/Adelaide plague: Open shirts, greasy hair and trashy bling abound. Next to Sanctuary, this was a painful closing. RIP- 2001
Catch 22- Its closing left a hole in the hearts of those who appreciated GOOD alternative (ie-Pixies) as well as typical Goth staples. Thankfully, the building did not fall the way of Limelight. It is now home to small business offices, mostly marketing companies. RIP- 1999.
Whiskey Saigon turned into Joe. Stripped of its kitschy Worhol-esque posters, Keith Haring murals and Pop Art fun, Joe is now a barren land of grays and greens, catering to the frat boy: in other words, the $2.00 shooter and bad beer crowd. The transfer of the live-to-air to Velvet saw a marked reduction in attendance, signaling a dying trend. It was a night out at Velvet on Sunday that inspired this column. RIP- 2002.
The clubs of the past may be gone, but the memories of those places where we spent many giddy, enthralling, flirtatious nights, stay close to the heart. They no longer exist except for the picture book in our minds. I'm grateful for at least experiencing that, as I know so many of the younger people in the scene have not. Yes, you missed out. So relish all that you can now, in the places that remain.
As my boyfriend says, much to my consternation: "You can tear down a building but you can't erase the memories."
In this case, truer words were never spoken.
posted Feb 2007 by dem
|
Darq Angel has been living in
Toronto for 15 years. An avid reader, writer, club-goer, and music lover, she
has been a lurker in Toronto's gothic scene, floating around quietly, casting
her dark shadow over various clubs and events in the city. 