by RUPERT BOTTENBERG

“For a long time,” says Ira Dubinsky, “the City of Montreal had a very relaxed, laissez-faire attitude towards underground events, meaning events in non-traditional locations where you might not have the right permits, events that weren’t really done by the book.” Meaning raves, that is, a number of which Dubinsky and his Kirk6 crewmates have thrown in recent years.

“But then, about a year ago, everything changed. The city began cracking down.” Dubinsky suggests Paradise, the annual Halloween bash thrown by the Psychofrog crew, as the turning point. Last year’s Paradise was to be held at a fairly established location, a go-kart course on de la Savanne (“It had been used many, many times for parties—in fact, people were starting to get sick of it”). But paradise it was’t.

“They had security, they had medical staff, they were trying to do everything as safe as possible. In my opinion, there was no reason why that party should not have been allowed to happen. But the fire department saw things differently. Two hours before the party, they showed up and cancelled the event. They had the police to back them up. There were 1,000 kids waiting in line, they already had their tickets, everyone was turned away and the promoter lost tens of thousands of dollars.”

Safety first

In the weeks that followed, numerous similar parties were likewise canned moments before kick-off. It seemed a clean-up campaign was at hand. In reaction, 30 or so folks involved with the production end of rave culture in town have banded together as the non-profit group AMP, the Association of Montreal Promoters, of which Dubinsky is the president. Companies represented include Kirk6, Mini Tank, Nice, Sweet Leaf, Nota, Lost Island, Psychofrog and others. “They’re the smaller or medium-sized production companies—although we have contacts with 514 and Ray Junior, our members are the ones throwing parties for 1,000 people or less.”

An important factor for AMP is approaching the municipal powers that be with diplomacy, not antagonism. “One of the things that the city and the promoters have in common is that we both want our events to be safe. We make that a top priority. In fact, we’ve adopted a set of guidelines applicable to everyone in our group. You have to have an adequate number of security personnel and a medical team on hand in case of strobe-light seizures, drug overdoses or who knows what. You can’t sell water above a certain price, you have to have cold, running water for free, you have to have adequate toilets, you have to respect the fire code about exits. These are things that people have complained about in the past, and that the city has brought up as problems. We have definitely stated, as a group, that our goals are the same as the city’s as far as making these events as safe as possible.”

There oughta be a law

The City of Montreal has yet to play ball with the AMP gang. “We’ve said to them over and over again, in every way possible—fax, phone, e-mail and registered mail—that we want to meet with them, work with them and come to an understanding. They still have not met with us. They still have not come to a point where they’ve organized themselves and decided what their position is.”

Therein lies Dubinsky’s greatest hope—and greatest fear. “It’s interesting that Montreal is the only major city in Canada that doesn’t have all-night dance-party legislation. This is a good thing, but it’s impossible to avoid getting such a law. There are laws all over North America that all address the issue differently. For sure, we are 100 per cent opposed to any law that would restrict or limit our ability to throw events in the safe manner that we always have. On the other hand, a law that makes it really clear how to throw an event, a law that, followed to the letter, means nobody’s going to cancel your event—that could be a good thing. What we have right now is just a lot of uncertainty.”

Investigating by-laws elsewhere in North America, Dubinsky and co. fear that legislation about raves can easily become legislation against raves. “The biggest example I can think of is that many of these laws stipulate that you have to have police officers at your party, and you have to pay for that service. The rate is like, $80 an hour per cop, one cop per 100 kids. If you have 1,000 people, that’s $800 an hour. They might also insist on a $2-million liability insurance policy, or charges for a rave permit, which may be $500 a promoter doesn’t have.

“I’m opposed to any law that would entail extreme costs that we didn’t face previously. It would stifle any smaller, underground events. That’s exactly what’s happened in other cities, in Toronto and even London, England, where I’ve been recently. You don’t find small rave parties there anymore. It’s either loft parties of maybe 100 people, or club nights or big circuit parties. There’s nothing in between. It’s a shame, and it may be what happens here.” •

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