Electronic Party Paladins, Promise, Saves Toronto From Itself

It almost ended in 2007 when the fun police, aka a bylaw enforcement officer, complete with binoculars and a stick up his ass, spotted some 50 hardened hoodlums huddled around a sitar player. The scene probably looked like a bunch of parishioners about to break into a beachside Kumbaya. Regardless, their ringleader, who was in crutches at the time, soon found himself on a low-speed chase with the mounted police in riot gear.

One sad limp after another, Promise co-founder Irving Shaw escaped with the help of an impressive human barrier that had formed, composed of an indebted group of party animals.

That was the end to Toronto's uncharacteristic fuck-tha-police electro parties.

The next summer, Irving and his co-founder, David Macleod, scored permission from the city with the help of Councilor Paula Fletcher and a bunch of her interns who happened to be some of Cherry Beach Sunday's most seasoned of fist-pumpers.

While the world's most hedonistic cities pick on Toronto for being a tool, Promise Cherry Beach has been getting high, drunk and delirious in public to the repetitive and sinister tune of tech-house. And all these brazen delinquency happens in the middle of the day, on a Sunday, and wraps up just shy of midnight. Promise Cherry Beach was Toronto's worst kept secret, becoming an institution way before they became legit with a city permit.

I checked out this PR-magnet of a party this summer and listened to one of the DJs, Paul Revered, be all endearing and reverent when it comes to the subject of his favourite DJ, Ali Black. Listening to the man's techno throbs in the background, Ali is what Paul and the Promise duo say he is and more.

I popped my Cherry Beach cherry under Ali Black's spell, the man who plays with occult-tinged tunes like C.P.I.'s "Proceso," rhythmic, vociferous vocals of Stephen Brown's "Medusa" and the spooky, darkly layered percussion party of &ME.

Ali is only one of the local acts that the Promise impresarios have raved about. Nature of Music, Arthur Oskan, Rollin Cash and Aquatic Mind have all taken turns shaking up Toronto with their Promise sets, burning through that image of a calm, polite, and downright dull Canadian exterior. Not a single act is repeated throughout the entire summer, keeping Cherry Beach fresh and enabling ravers to at least attempt to vary those dance moves.

Dave and Irving, the Don Corleone of DJs, occasionally show endearment by throwing zero-experience talents into a pit of ravenous ravers. Crystal Castles was a virtual unknown when they played a Promise warehouse party. Art Department, before they were Art Department, moved bodies at Cherry Beach. Hell, even a teenage Deadmau5 used to party (read: get destroyed) at Promise Sundays.

Cherry Beach's notoriety even attracted that divisive dubstep darling Skrillex this summer, practically inviting himself to the party and surprising the chill Cherry regulars with energetic tech-house. "Watching him manipulate music, the crowd and the equipment. You can tell the boy has chops," gushed Irving. Cherry Beach pulls off these megastar sets by keeping them under wraps so that these DJs can still play what is arguably the best vibe and venue in the city without affecting their official tour's ticket sales.

The duo's delinquency doesn't stop at Cherry Beach. They've been staving off Torontonians' seasonal affective disorders since 2001 with their year-round genius for overstimulation. David, in Irving's one-year absence, spearheaded the Ambient Cherry Blossoms Picnic with some chill electronic sorcery. Every May, they send souls to hell with their sacrilegious Detroit Dirty Motors, blasting Detroit techno-funk in downtown Toronto's Holy Trinity Cathedral.

In other months, they hook up the city's electronic culture with wattage, putting out Promise Sunnyside Pavillion, Kajama Midnight Sail, Chamber Experimental, among others. Their favorite one though, "hands down," is the German Sparkle Party that happens in November. This party is best described by its namesake music video inspiration by Something Experience. It's kooky, it's creepy and it's going to give you nightmares from which you will awake inexplicably covered in glitter.

The theme is straightforward—be sparkly—but pulling it off is not. The challenge was holding it without a permit at the Tower Automotive Building, an abandoned warehouse that is 10 storeys tall. The Foundry Series originally planned to hold their festival there, except that its organizers had one crucial misstep: they asked for permission.

"Foundry tried to do everything as legitimately as possible whereas Dave and I just went in and did it. As a result, we got away with two really great parties, the Promise Heart Party and the German Sparkle Party," said Irving.

The two transformed the Tower Automotive, which was just a shell of a building at the time—no heat, no water and no washroom. In their signature maverick fashion, they came, they saw and they conquered, and in sparkles nonetheless.

@OfeliaLegaspi is a freelance journalist looking into selling out to advertising to support this creative writing of hers.

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