The El Mocambo is once again on the brink of closing, and this time it looks like it might actually be the end. The historic club has gone through more owners than anyone can count over the decades, but if it does get transformed into a giant computer store in a couple months, it will mean the final chapter of what is arguably Canada’s most famous live music club.
Granted, most of that fame is due to the 1977 surprise appearance by the Rolling Stones, and what may or may not have happened in the back room with Maggie Trudeau. Immortalized on their Love You Live concert album, it will forever be the moment most of the world associates with those iconic neon palms.
But that was the last thing on the minds of the vast majority of regulars when I first walked through those doors in the mid-90s as a teenager hitting all-ages punk shows. We were there to see bands like Suckerpunch play amped-up punkabilly, the Sinisters slashing themselves onstage like Iggy Pop, and Armed and Hammered’s hardcore mayhem – definitely not to relive some classic rock glory days of the distant past.
If we did want to feel nostalgic about the place, we looked to legendary early appearances by Blondie, the Ramones, Devo and Joan Jett.
The club couldn’t have been making much money in that era, and ownership changed regularly. Nevertheless, the niche carved out by bookers like Jeff Cohen (now co-owner of the Horseshoe and Lee’s Palace) and William New made the venue a vital part of the 90s underground scene.
Alongside the overtly punk shows, the rest of the alternative spectrum found a place as well. On any given night, you could get psych-rock, alt-country, shoegaze, and even hip-hop shows and techno parties – both of which often struggled to find receptive venues in that era.
You always sensed a ton of history attached to the club. Even if we didn’t care that all the blues greats had once rocked that stage back when the place was less rough around the edges, it still lent the room an air of authenticity that only comes with time. No amount of reclaimed barn wood and vintage knick knacks can make your contemporary hipster dive feel like a genuine, grimy rock ‘n’ roll institution.
When Dan Burke took over as booker in 1998, he knew better than to drastically change the venue’s identity, but recognized that the place needed new energy. Burke was a former award-winning journalist who’d left that career after losing himself in the drug scene he was reporting on. He had stumbled into booking at the nearby Club Shanghai, and had – improbably – already made a name for himself for both the edgy acts he brought in and his wild personality.
Garage rock-influenced acts like the Deadly Snakes started playing the El Mo more often, and Burke began bringing in emerging international bands like the White Stripes and the Zoobombs. He also saw the potential in an offbeat concept brought to him by visual artist/activist/DJ Will Munro (who tragically passed away in 2010 after a battle with brain cancer) to throw a monthly queer rock ‘n’ roll party called Vazaleen. The event would become a huge success, so much so that Munro would have to change the name from the original spelling.
Drawing an extremely diverse crowd, it was one of the few places of the era where queers of all genders would mix with their straight friends. Vazaleen played a big role in the early careers of artists like Peaches and the Hidden Cameras, as well as helping blaze a path for queer culture to escape the Village and infiltrate the west end. It would later move to Lee’s Palace, but for many devotees, the original El Mocambo location will always hold a special spot in their memories.
The monthly Britpop and mod night Blow Up also kept the El Mo busy during that time, and there was definitely at least some crossover between their crowds. Like Vazaleen, it also moved around to other venues, but nothing quite equalled the vibe of the El Mocambo.
When Abbas Jahangiri bought the club in 2001, everything changed dramatically. While Jahangiri may have had good intentions and was definitely very committed to his charitable ideals, he did not have much experience running a club. Burke’s departure was dramatic (he got arrested), and his scheme to move the El Mo’s famous sign around the corner to the former Ted’s Wrecking Yard were quashed by the city, who argued that clubs weren’t allowed on College (despite the fact that Ted’s had been running for years).
Jahangiri renovated the place heavily, stripping away much of the raw rock ‘n’ roll charm. He tried to turn the upstairs into a dance studio, but later turned it back into a live room, even briefly hiring back both Dan Burke and William New to book the second floor. Most bookings during that era were handled by Yvonne Matsell, who had lots of experience at other Toronto venues, but couldn’t tap into Toronto’s vibrant underground in the same way as Burke had been able to.
As much as the Jahangiri era has been maligned (especially in indie rock circles), the El Mocambo still played an important role over the 00s. While it may have featured less punk bands, it began to host more DJ events, once again providing a home for shows that had trouble convincing more prestigious rooms.
In 2012, when Jahangiri sold the building to focus on missionary work, many were optimistic that the new owners would manage to restore some of its glory. The Cadillac Lounge’s Sam Grosso and 99 Sudbury’s Marco Petrucci seemed like they had the right combination of experience and financial resources to make it work. Plus, seeing that famous sign restored and lit up again was a great first move.
But then it just didn’t seem to take off the way anyone predicted. Behind the scenes, the two partners weren’t agreeing on the direction to take, and the situation devolved badly. It was no secret that Grosso was trying to find a new partner to buy out Petrucci, but no one was biting. While Matsell had initially carried on as booker, Grosso soon took over those duties himself. Unfortunately, booking a club the size of the El Mocambo is very different than a place like the Cadillac Lounge, and it remained empty more often than it featured hot new bands.
Still, it’s strange that the best offer so far is from a computer shop (these are the rumours, anyway). Toronto is hurting for live venues that size, and given the current regulations on nightlife, it would be next to impossible to build a venue with the same capacity in the area and get it licensed. Even though the building badly needs some serious renovations, you’d think the liquor license alone would attract a serious offer.
Unless something miraculous happens, it’s too late to save the El Mocambo. It was probably never going be a rock ‘n’ roll club again, but someone with vision could have found a middle ground.
I want to believe that some heroic benefactor will come to the El Mo’s rescue at the last minute. If this is the end, at least we’ve had some really great times. Hopefully, as Grosso’s alluded to, the sign will stay regardless.
