When I mentioned recently on the ProSoundWeb LAB forum that I was planning to write a piece about the worst load-out in Toronto, that triggered a flood of “terrible venue access” stories, featuring such gems as rat infested alleys, reeking garbage compactors in the loading dock, and epic pushes over carpets in ballrooms.
In each of these examples, it was understood that the load-in and load-out were equally awful. But not in this case… in fact, the load-in was just fine, thank you very much. Easy, even, with a short straight push over level pavement to the stage, which was just inside the door. The load-out, on the other hand… a very different story.
Cross Purposes
In 1984, a new nightclub called The Copa opened in Toronto’s trendy Yorkville district. This was a big club for the day, about 1,500 capacity, and it originally was a dance club. But then someone thought it would be a good idea to do concerts there as well, and that’s what got me into the building.
At the time, I was working for one of the larger sound and lighting companies in town and we started to get some shows at The Copa. As mentioned earlier, the load-in was very straightforward. It consisted of backing a truck up to the front door, which was not even on the street but actually in a parking lot, dropping the ramp and rolling into the club. But the load-out? A total nightmare, for two reasons:
One: The stage was also the dance floor, complete with monster fog machines, lasers, strobe lights and every other kind of flashing, blinking light in the world, and a Richard Long & Associates sound system. For those who don’t know, this was the state of the art for disco sound systems at the time (Studio 54, Paradise Garage and Area for a few examples) and consisted of a couple of single-family dwellings located upstage left and right. The DJ booth was somewhere above and behind the stage right side.
Two: The load-in/load-out door was also the main (and as far as I knew, only) entrance to the facility. Couple that with the fact that it was expected to instantly change from a concert venue to a dance club when the concert ended, and you had the recipe for a really horrific load-out experience.
Which went like this… I never met or interacted with any of the DJs (who I’ve since learned were hugely influential in the Toronto dance club scene), but I had this mental picture of them lurking up there in the booth, like Dracula in his castle, waiting… waiting… waiting… for the band to end its encore with “Thank you very much! Goodnigh…”
And then Dracula strikes: Psssssht! Boom! The “Psssssht” was the sound of the fog machines quickly and completely enveloping the stage in a deep mist, and the “Boom” was the first bass notes coming out of those massive loudspeakers. And then it was complete mayhem until the truck door closed.
So, what happens first? Grab all the mics, right? Well, I remember that as I unplugged each microphone, the cable would drop away, and disappear into the fog! It was literally impossible to see the floor of the stage, so mic cables, DIs, stageboxes, power drops all had to be collected by feel.
To further complicate matters, the clientele would change from concertgoers to dance-til-dawn clubbers while the load-out was in progress. So, in addition to trying to get a PA and lighting system, and the band, out this one door you would have several hundred patrons leaving, and several hundred more lined up outside waiting to come in and boogie.
Overseeing all this would be the bouncers and door staff, in that sensitive, caring way that… none of them had. Did I mention that the music was pounding, and the lights were flashing this whole time?
Time Marches On
Almost 30 years on, it’s difficult to remember specific shows and what I was doing on each, but I do remember some particular incidents. On one, our head lighting tech and I were discussing (or so I thought) what order the gear should go on the truck when he lost patience with the whole exercise and took a swing at me.
He didn’t connect, partly because of the lighting throwing his aim off and partly because he was about a day back from his latest tour and still messed up… pharmaceutically. I didn’t really blame him for losing it because the fact was that this “discussion,” which took place in front of the dance loudspeakers, started with us already yelling at each other. That said, the fact that nothing was said or done about it afterwards was a factor in my leaving the company a few months later.
Some of the acts that I remember working for were Romeo Void, The Brian Setzer Orchestra, and The Beastie Boys first Toronto appearance, in which they managed to smash one of the neon tubes over the stage with a beer bottle within 30 seconds of taking the stage.
Other jobs were filming a scene for the movie Head Office, and one of my all-time favorite monitor mixing gigs, for Toronto new wave band Blue Peter. The band was made up of really great players, with the drummer positioned stage right, just in front of my monitor desk. It was a treat to watch and listen to him play, and yes, Virginia, sometimes monitor consoles can go on stage right.
From early 1986 through late 1988, I also worked with a remote recording truck based in Toronto. Once again, I can’t remember specific jobs, but I do remember one setup day at The Copa. The “mouse-hole” for feeding our cables into the club was, for some reason, located way up on the wall behind the stage and required the use of an extension ladder to access.
On this particular day, the intern who’d been assigned to assist me on the setup was 90 minutes late. Why? He’d never heard of “Yorkville” in downtown Toronto so had mistakenly taken the subway to “Yorkdale,” a suburban shopping mall in the far northwest part of the city. I might have had a few choice words to say about his absence while I was getting the snakes into the club – on a ladder, by myself.
When I look back on the 80s I have lots of memories, some good, some bad, and sometimes maybe a bit of nostalgia for a time when figuring things out was the daily routine. But, I sure don’t miss that load-out!
