It’s finally time to pour one out for two of the most popular venues Toronto has had the pleasure of calling its own. After 19 years of duty, Kool Haus and the Guvernment are closing up shop, much to the chagrin of music lovers across the city.
There are ties to the venues that exist for many U of T students — both have hosted various club nights, a wide range of musical acts and the annual Frosh club night.
Three years ago, I was packed into the front end of the Kool Haus (which, ironically, is quite warm), awaiting the arrival of the night’s headlining act, The Kills. Little Jacob, desperately awaiting a growth spurt, was pressed face-first into the back of an Allison Mosshart lookalike’s voluminous ’do, wishing desperately for a gulp of fresh air. As the band emerged heroically from behind the stage, the lady in front of me began to sway violently to the non-existent rhythm of the guitarist’s amp feedback, thrusting herself forwards and backwards as an indicator of an oncoming mosh pit. Before I had time to get out of the way, the beat dropped, and I was being tossed around the room like a rag doll, swept up with the rest of the turbulent crowd.
It was a pretty unnerving experience, but one that I consider to be my welcoming moment to this venue. To formally say farewell, we’ve gathered a few stories of students’ most memorable moments at both venues.
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The one and only time I’ve been to The Kool Haus was to see a Tame Impala concert. I don’t go to concerts very often, but this one was memorable. The setting established a vibe suitable for the music and performance of the band, and I remember really liking the high ceilings and the shadowy lighting. The place was really dark, and the ceiling seemed to go on forever. Kevin Parker, Tame Impala’s lead singer, looked and sounded like a real-life angel in a magical world full of tall grass and rainbows and cotton candy. The bar was opposite from the stage on the other side of the room, so it kept all the drunk people away, leaving more room for the fans that Parker was really connecting with. Afterwards, my friend and I met the singer himself, making it officially the best night of my life.
– Juliann Garisto
MASHAL KHAN/THE VARSITY
On December 3, I attended the Flatbush Zombies concert in the main room of the Guvernment. Being a sold out concert to see the Zombies, fresh off of their Clockwork Indigo EP release, one would assume that along with the assorted crowd, there was also an assortment of elicit substances consumed by nearly everyone in the audience. Considering the nature of this concert, things were bound to get rowdy. I soon found myself caught up in mosh pits, soaring stage divers, and a plentitude of crowd surfing. At one point, to my surprise, I noticed that Meechy Darko had climbed up onto the balcony over the audience, continuing to rap and bump his fist to the beat. Deciding to flirt with danger, he suddenly dove off the 10-foot high balcony, landing on the crowd. The crowd collapsed, driving Meech along with myself and the fellow spectators, to the ground. Following a mad scramble of being trapped under many bodies, a couple members from the audience dragged me free from the mess. Having nearly been crushed by the row of people behind me leaning in to catch a glimpse of the rapper in the crowd, I watched the rest of the set safely from the bar.
— Elliott Gallagher Doucette
MASHAL KHAN/THE VARSITY
In my hometown, the closest thing you got to live music was the, admittedly tireless, efforts of the church choir. When I was 13, I successfully convinced my mom to take myself and a few friends to Toronto to see a real live rock concert. While she waited patiently at the back of the venue, we crammed our heavily made-uped pubescent selves as close to the Kool Haus stage as physically possible, in order to witness the glory that was Three Days Grace. It was loud, sweaty, and my hair smelt deeply of weed within seconds — in other words, glorious. The next few years involved many return trips, with favourite acts including a young Arctic Monkeys and chilled-out Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. I’m sad to see the place go, and won’t forget it’s shadowy presence anytime soon.
— Sarah Niedoba
My first real concert was at the Kool Haus. It was Mika, I was 11 and accompanied by my mom and younger brother. He didn’t end up enjoying it very much, but I did. I talked to all sorts of interesting, herbally scented people who cooed over my youngness and shifted over so I could actually see the stage. When Mika came on, everyone bounced around and sang along to the words. I was overjoyed to see that this was acceptable: I had been chastised for doing the same thing at a stage production of the Lion King some years before – something I felt was rather joyless. At the end of the show, confetti and giant balloons were shot into the crowd. The lead actor from Disney’s Life With Derek accidentally batted a balloon away from my brother’s tiny clutches, and my mom yelled at him until he shamefacedly slunk away to retrieve it. Kool Haus, we will miss you dearly.
— Isabel Putz-Preyra
