1991 Winter

Went to that party P was telling me about at 318 Richmond St.

Unlike most warehouse parties at deserted industrial areas, this one was just a block south of Queen and suitably hidden from the crowd. Near Peter were a few neat, wooden houses with trees in between that stood there in their vaguely English, cultured charm. We walked along Richmond, entrenched in its coziness. 318 or the 23 Hop as they called it, was a grey and nondescript rectangular block with no coldness of the sort that big warehouses had. The character of its neighboring houses must have shielded it from its blandness.

When we arrived at the door, a tough looking young man with a pit bull on leash was standing there. He must be the doorman. He greeted us in a Scottish accent. Street-smart with a penchant for being tough, he was in fact rather friendly as we asked him about the party. We entered and walked up the stairs to a small entrance where a few more mature women sat next to the cash register. They looked like parents or relatives of someone in the party. Further in, there was a hallway leading to a few small rooms overlooking Richmond and a bigger room to the North. Most rooms were quite empty with only 5 to 30 people drifting from one spot to another. It was dark, but the laser above the DJ booth gave us a sense of direction. And the music went boom, boom, boom. It was a hard and steady base drum sound mixed with pop and soul vocals. Sometimes it simply turned frantic and the people went wild. What excited us most was they played a couple of songs by the 808 State which we would never hear in a party. We realized at the time that this was new. This must be a party for the techno crowd. It was fun. The crowd was not our usual warehouse crowd - black, gay, male models, stylists, fashion designers, hairdressers and poseurs in their Eighties gear. This crowd was so youthful and fresh. There was an enthusiasm never before felt. The set-up seemed basic and the room not quite filled but it was sufficient. A young boy, slightly built, came with his buddies to greet us. He reminded me of Ian Brown of the Stone Roses. A few of his friends were in wide, wide flares, loose soccer tops with whistles hanging down their necks. We shook hands and got to know each other a bit. Turned out they were from Scotland and they called their group, the Exodus. The host's name is A.D.. We later learned that he deejayed under the name of Tonto.

The atmosphere was student-like and civil. But techno all night seemed a bit much. By around three there were too many boys and not many girls around. And most people on the dance floor dancing were boys since the music turned faster and harder. A.D. stayed close to the amplifier almost at all times. I was amused and amazed.

When we left, the doorman was concerned that they did not throw a good enough party.