Can’t recreate the kind of character that was the Silver Dollar

Had the phenomenally aggro local punk trio played until closing time there might well have been a riot.

As it went, however, the ludicrously overcapacity crowd gradually thinned out as stunned, battered and deafened patrons trickled downstairs onto the rain-swept street, leaving a good-natured, but kinda sad gang of regulars who mostly knew each other from bands and the music industry, knocking back what was left of the dwindling bar stock until last call.

I didn’t even stay until that last call. I left at the unduly civilized hour of 1:13 a.m., right around the time my old friend Burke and Katie Monks of Dilly Dally — also seen crowd-surfing during METZ’s set — started making noises about going downstairs to check out what was happening for the final hurrah at that infamous, all-hours den of sin, the Comfort Zone.

Best to rip the Band-Aid off quickly, I thought, especially after the exhausting final week of shows Burke had managed to line up for the Dollar’s last week: Atlanta’s ripping Coathangers on the Tuesday; a sixband blowout hosted by Crazy Strings for the last-ever High Lonesome Wednesday on the Wednesday; a crushing and entirely dark triple bill of Suuns, Doomsquad and Peeling on the Thursday; a girl-powered indie-rock triple-bill of Dilly Dally, Darlene Shrugg and Frigs on the Friday; and a stoner-friendly riff-o-rama featuring Blood Ceremony, Biblical and Red Mass on the Saturday. And that after a Canadian Music Week that saw the Dollar hosting a three-night stand by Japanese Breakfast capped off by a blistering “surprise” 3 a.m. performance by Tokyo’s Zoobombs, longtime Burke favourites, during the wee hours of the previous Sunday morning. Part of me was kind of glad to have it over with.

The Silver Dollar will be missed, however, make no mistake.

Yes, the City of Toronto has a promise from the people turning the building around it into highrise rental housing for students that the phys- ical Dollar space will be preserved for posterity due to its heritage value, but no one has any idea what form that space will take when it’s reopened after construction.

Maybe the developers will surprise us.

But you can’t recreate the kind of arcane, gone-to-seed character that bizarrely laid-out room — first opened as a cocktail bar for the neighbouring Waverly Hotel in 1958 — had, nor will anyone be able to recreate the musical community-cultivated by Burke within its walls since he took over booking the venue during the early 2000s.

Under Burke’s stewardship, the Silver Dollar became one of Toronto’s go-to destinations for anyone interested in hearing the next thing. It was a room booked by a music fan for music fans — you could hear a pin drop during the long, slow fade-out to New Fries’ final number on Sunday, despite the fact that the room was filled to bursting with revellers — and an accepting place where young musicians could hone the skills that might eventually propel them to larger stages.

For instance, Simone TB — the superhuman drummer for Fake Palms/Darlene Shrugg/Highest Order who helped organize the final week at the Dollar — would not be the go-to timekeeper she is today for myriad local indie acts had she not spent more than a decade pounding away at a drum kit on that stage.

She’s not the only musician in town who has experienced “real grief,” as she put it to me recently, at the thought of losing the Dollar.

There will never be another spot like it. Thanks for the music.

Under Burke’s stewardship, the Silver Dollar became one of Toronto’s go-to destinations for anyone interested in hearing the next thing