The Time I Passed Out On Heath Ledger & More Tales Of Melb's Now Razed Q Bar

One minute it was there, and the next it was gone. We all knew what the end game was for this iconic piece of Melbourne’s clubbing history, but to actually see the bricks and mortar replaced by a big hole in the ground really kinda hits you. Even back in 2011 when the doors were due to close for the last time, I’m sure I wasn’t alone in the hope that maybe, just maybe, the rumours weren’t true. At least when some other seminal clubbing institutions finally gave way the might of the development dollar (think Chevron, Dome and The Mansion), the buildings remained. As you drive past those buildings now, the fact that they’re still there makes that jump in your imagination to all the wonderfully fucked up shit that many of us got up to within their walls just that much easier.

For the party people of Adelaide, Melbourne and Sydney, the letter Q has firmly established itself in the history books of club culture. Back in 1997 when Q Melbourne launched, nestled below the historic Fun Factory on the corner of Chapel St and Toorak Rd in South Yarra, electronic music was growing exponentially, the Melbourne scene was recognised as one of the most vibrant on the planet, and suffice to say, I was taking full advantage of all of it. By then I’d been at Kiss 90 FM for three years, and I was also presenting on the dance music TV show BPM Australia, so getting amongst it was pretty much all I was doing (it was part of the job you see ;) ). Averaging four nights (all night) out per week, every week, I was absolutely caning it, and there were plenty of others on the same train. So the idea of a venue that would be open every night of the week definitely struck a chord with me!

When I first got the call a few days ago from my old mate Leigh from theMusic.com.au, he said he thought I’d be a good person to write the story on Q, as surely I’d have plenty of memories of the place. “Well that’s just it mate,” I said. “I don’t really.” Sure, as a diehard clubber I’d spent more time in there than most. But as my brain creaked and groaned trying to recall some of those crazy nights as far back as 19 years, I knew I’d have to get on the phone and touch base with some of main protagonists from those outrageous times…and as I accepted the challenge, I couldn’t wait to start dialling.

The original Q was a Sydney incarnation launching in October ‘93, followed by Adelaide October ’94, and Adelaide residents who were a big part of Q back then included Sean Cosgrove, Mark James, Groove Terminator (part owner), HMC (aka Late Nite Tuff Guy), Scott Thompson (part owner), and of course, the guys that started the whole affair, Ian Robertson and Simon “Mods” Modra. After running successfully in Sydney, the brand opened in Adelaide in with similar success, and as the recipe continued to whet the appetites of clubbers, Melbourne finally got served up a plate of the good stuff in September of ’97.

The fact that the club was to be open seven nights a week wasn’t its only distinguishing feature. There was a rule in the early days of Q that no matter how many, (or more to the point, how few), people were in the venue, the club was to stay open until at least a certain time. The team at Q wanted it to be known that this was a place that you could always rely on to have the doors open, the choons pumping, and drinks at the ready. As a regular you could also count on bumping into others of your ilk, and when all else failed at least you’d know the guys behind the bar.

Another point of difference in the formative years was the policy of no cover charge, which was a consequence of yet another differentiating factor, no promoters. Instead, Q employed hosts, which meant the club didn’t have to bend to the whims of those who may have held more of a shorter-term view with regards to marketing. Now while it’s great to have strength in your conviction, this can prove to be expensive, as the “no promoters policy” was turning out to be. Night after night the doors were open but no one was home. Sure, they’d get people in on the traditional club nights, but for the rest of the week it was proving to be a tough slog. According to eventual co-owner Richard Chatfield, (who I’m guessing spent more time in the venue that anyone else over the club’s 14 year history), the only thing you could count on to be in the club on many of those early nights were tumbleweeds. This was going to be a tough gig.

Getting back to its unique selling points, Q Bar had its private members’ area, the Red Room. The furniture and decor were plusher, and the tempo of the music definitely cruisier than the rest of the venue. The antics in the Red Room were shielded from the rest of the venue by a set of red velvet curtains, and secured by a member of security, thus ensuring an air of both exclusivity and debauchery. If Q Bar felt like home, then the Red Room was the rumpus room. Many of my favourite times at the venue took place within the confines of this den of delight, and the stories that emanated from within its walls were numerous and often hilarious. Two that comes to mind include the night Luke McD and his wife decided to drag a crucifix through the club and set it up in the Red Room, although instead of getting out the hammer and nails, (which would have been a bit much), they proceeded to tie up anyone who was up for some whippings and a bit of hot wax. The second one was another particularly large night for me. I must have momentarily closed my eyes just to regain my composure, and when I came to I found myself cuddling up to the Joker himself, Heath Ledger. I’m not sure what he found scarier, going up against Batman or having some rather jolly guy in a kilt passing out on top of him.

I think it was around the time of the crucifix that Paulie Archer, Anissa Cavallo and I would be joined by the aforementioned moustached one as a Friday co-host on the Kiss FM brekky show, The Breakfast Club. By this stage (probably around 2007) I was a lot more respectable and used to actually go to bed on Thursday nights. Luke would finish his set at 5am and then I’d swing past, grab an OJ (you see, respectable!) and hang out at the club for half an hour, before guiding Luke out of the club and into the car, usually accompanied by a few randoms. Needless to say the Friday morning shows were definitely the highlight of our week. With awesome tracks, a slightly sideways McD on the mic, and a live studio audience that were still peaking… this was radio at its best!

But McD wasn’t the only Q Bar DJ we had on The Breakfast Club. One of the two originators of Q, Mods, also spent some time behind the mic with us back on those days. A larger than life character with a creative flair and an industrial designer by trade, you can now find the guy back in his native Adelaide running a bar called Winston (the old Adelaide Q Bar is now called Sugar). And not to be outdone, Scotty T was also a part-time breakfast clubber, dropping in once a week to look after the decks and join the rest of us for a laugh.

But if you thought the Red Room was as crazy as shit got at Q, then think again. The Green Room was the ultimate in hedonism, and was manned by yet another member of security. Instead of a velvet curtain, this space was kept separate from the rest of the venue via a locked door. I’ll let your imagination run wild with the sort of activities than went on behind that door, but needless to say it was one of my favourite parts of the venue.

Whereas its location at the corner of one of Melbourne’s most engaging intersections may have been upmarket, the manner in which the club was constructed was quite the opposite. “Held together with cheap paint and gaffa tape” was how long-term resident DJ Beanie, an old schoolmate of mine told me. Beanie was one of those who applied that cheap paint in preparation for the club’s launch. She then progressed from quasi-interior decorator, to Bar Manager and then, after a stint in the UK where she discovered a love of vinyl, returned to Q to continue her tenure at the venue, although this time the residency was behind the decks rather than the bar.

While cheap paint and gaffa tape is what may have been holding the place up, what kept it looking good, at least as far as the toilets were concerned, were the photos. As is the tradition of nightclub toilets, these ones were not the best. I dare, no, I double dare anyone who has been to Q to say that they haven’t checked out the photos in the dunnies. No visit to the dunny was complete without a quick scan of the pics. You could have been looking for people that looked interesting (maybe). You could have been scanning for your mates (probably). And you can’t tell me you weren’t looking for your own grinning mug up there from time to time. The photos in the dunnies were a masterstroke of one of the two originators behind the whole Q empire, Age best-dressed nominee, and prior owner of the Bloomfield/Albany hotels in South Yarra, Ian Robertson. This concept was eventually expanded to encompass framed photos around much of the remainder of the venue.

Speaking of residencies, probably the two most fondly remembered were Coursey’s sessions on Fridays, and the more progressive Sunday nights from Sean Quinn and KC Taylor. Coursey would kick things off with a selection of feel-good, vocal numbers, and would then pass the baton to Gavin Keitel who would take the crowd on a more deep and progressive tip. Tom Campbell would then finish them off with a big bag full of bangers. While Fridays and Sundays cemented their place in the venue’s offering, Saturdays were a much tougher nut to crack. The list of DJs that managed the dancefloor on that night of the week proved to be a big one, although Greg Sara, Nathan G and Beanie were probably the most prolific. Towards the end of the club’s existence you’d find Tom Evans and Jules Jay taking care of business.

But good DJs alone a great club does not make. You’ve got to have the hardware too. And Q did. Plenty of it. It was by no means the largest dancefloor in Melbourne, but that didn’t stop Phil Ross from sticking six subs all around the dancefloor. Q had more of a homegrown DJ policy, in that at least for the majority of its life it didn’t really buy into the whole international superstar DJ thing that plenty of other clubs used as one of their main selling points, instead Q preferred to focus on the local talent. There are of course exceptions to every rule and these included Digweed, Sasha, Roger Sanchez, Dave Seaman, as well as a few others.

Some of the big name international prog guys used to swing by on a Sunday to hang out with Sean and KC, although there was one memorable occasion where Melbourne ex-pat Anthony Pappa popped in unannounced for a drink on a random Thursday instead. Feeling the love he decided to step behind the decks for an impromptu session, which would have been cool enough by itself. However, on the dancefloor that night was none other than Miss Minogue herself (and I’m not talking about Millie). The next thing you know Kylie is on the podium and Pappa is absolutely destroying it… a classic Q Bar evening!

International DJs were not the only big names to pop in for a visit. Bono and Helena Christensen came through one night, possibly in the same week that they visited The Mansion, where DJ Gian was about to admonish some woman for poking through his record box during his set, only to discover that the girl in question was the aforementioned Danish supermodel. One of the most legendary visits to the club however, was the visit that didn’t happen. Apparently staying at the nearby Como Hotel, and rocking up to the front door in trakky daks, the singer with the current record for most sold out shows at Rod Laver Arena, was unceremoniously KB’d by an unimpressed Steve Dorsett, another old mate of mine from my school days, and manager of Q from ’08 through 2003. Perhaps he just wasn’t a Pink fan?

Gary Sweet was a regular as was Jimeoin, Dave Hughes and adding to the local flavour you can throw in celebrity chef Jeff Janz, who used to pop in for games of table tennis. Speaking of table tennis, there was the night when Ben Harper rocked up and was offered a game of Bong Pong by a Q staffer who shall remain nameless. When Harper’s manager voiced his confusion as to the intricacies of such an activity, the artist promptly explained how the game is played, much to the amusement and pleasure of the Q team member.

The general consensus seems to be that the initial five years were the most debauched, and it seems fitting that while trying to get some anecdotes from the main players back then, my questions in most cases were met with either, “To be honest Al, I really can’t remember what the fuck I was doing back then,” or, “Look Al, I’ve got this great story but you gotta promise you’re not put it in the story.” They’d then tell me the story and I’d reluctantly agree with them that those activities are best left as tales of reminiscing old skoolers, and not for general consumption.

I did manage to get a few clean ones however, thanks to all round good bloke and another Q Bar resident, Greg Sara. “We used to keep our cleaning products under the DJ booth, and one night a certain, well primed DJ had noticed the smoke machine had run out, so he filled it up and gave it a good squirt. Suddenly, everyone bolted from the club screaming…he'd accidentally filled it with bleach and vaporised the whole club!”

As if gassing patrons wasn’t enough, this next DJ decided he’d go for a more explosive approach. According to Sara, “Another night, late in the piece on a Sunday, a DJ left with his metal flight case. He decided to go to the ATM and come back. An hour after close, we go to leave and the whole corner is blocked off by police. The bomb squad was there after reports of a suspicious box left at the ATM. The DJ had to sheepishly walk over and retrieve his record box”. Oops!

Now I’ve known some lovely people who have ran the doors of Melbourne’s clubs over the years, but my favourite would have to be the cool, calm and collected Toby Graham from Q. An absolute gentleman, Toby looked after me big time on countless occasions, and on one particular evening when I had managed to take having fun to a whole new level, I actually thought I was in a completely different nightclub, (now that really is pushing the boundaries!) As I was trying to figure out whether I was a daffodil or a pomegranate, Toby organised for the stunning Babs, his then girlfriend and now wife, to arrange a nice spot in the Red Room, and sit with me to make sure I was able to ride out that next hour without causing myself any more mischief. I didn’t know who she was and I was thinking, “Toby is fucking awesome! Here I am driving a faulty spaceship through the galaxy, and he goes and organises an angel to just swing past and take care of me. What a guy!” Anyway, I asked Toby for one of his most memorable moments, and this is the reply I received.

“I can't remember which year it was, to be honest, somewhere around 2007-9 maybe. But it was a definitely a Sunday night - the trashiest night. We were approached at the door by someone claiming to be the personal security for ***** *******, a certain actor who was at that time known for playing a tough man in Guy Ritchie's films.

"Anyway, soon after, a couple of secret-service agent looking dudes checked the club out like they were looking after POTUS himself. Then they came out, whispered "secure" into their sleeves, said celeb rocked up in a bulletproof vehicle and rolled in - after the security team got the obligatory group photo, naturally (dude's way shorter in real life, we all thought we could take him). The thing I remember, though, is how all night his fucking security team pestered us for the strangest things. First it was can we find a couple of girls willing to keep him company. Then it was can we arrange a private room. Get a bottle delivered. Do we know anyone who’s retailing this item, or that one. We put him in the Red Room of course, which was closed as the club wasn't packed. Then they asked if we could turn the cameras off, but since the surveillance is all one system, the answer to the latter request was no. So I ended up giving them the keys to my office, in that big, spooky house next door which was the general office and the marketing office. But of course his secret-agents had to check both floors for assassins first. No sweat, all clear. More sleeve-whispering. Dude goes up there with a lady and not five minutes later we get the weirdest request of all… can we find some Viagra. We got the whole security team on the case. Everyone running around, radioing each other along with his security whispering madly into their sleeves. We were asking all the regulars, known retailers, walk-ins, even making a few phone calls, because on some level at least, I think we all understood the urgency. Pretty soon all the patrons were running around asking each other and making phone calls, too. Long story short, eventually we found the goods, but it was too late. He took it back to his hotel instead. And while he might not have left with a smile on his face that night, we surely did!”

No matter how successful the club was, it was always going to be a challenge to continue on in the face of a changing club scene. The first signs that perhaps the club was getting to the end of its use-by date were in ’07. The law banning smoking in venues had come into effect that year, and the former office had been transformed into a makeshift outdoor smoking area, which wasn’t the nicest of experiences (mind you, show me a smoking area that is). Without the plumes of tobacco smoke to mask other odours, the inside of the club didn’t smell the best either.

It wasn’t just the smoking laws that were affecting the club. A decision around this time to finally introduce a door charge, brought with it the need to reverse another policy decision. And so the club finally started dealing with promoters. Up until this time the venue had been vigilant regarding its music policy. Repeating tracks throughout the night was to be avoided, certain popular tracks were banned as being too commercial, and all DJs were booked on their merits. But some promoters can have a shorter-term view of things. Some DJs may have earned their slots due to the number of mates they were bringing in each week. The crowd was changing too and was becoming less edgy. Nova was flogging dance tracks to a new audience, which in turn would arrive at the club asking for those same commercial sounds.

Things were not looking good.

There was light at the end of this tunnel however. Every year since its inception, the club had held a birthday party for its members. It was two hours of open bar, and unlike other situations where an open bar would be tempered with only one or two staff members, Q would have a full team pumping out the drinks. The 10th birthday was looming in this year of turmoil and the guys saw it as a make-or-break scenario.

The night was a huge success, and according to Chatfield, was probably the best party that he’s ever been involved with. I believe there was a remix of Funky Town doing the rounds of Melbourne dancefloors at the time, so the guys organised Pseudo Echo to play at the party. Even the invitations were awesome; stainless steel, credit card keyring bottle openers - nice touch guys! I can’t remember much past the first half hour but I think that serves as a testament to how the night rolled on for me. That birthday was like a shot in the arm for the team and they jumped back in the game with renewed passion.

While things did pick up for a while after this night, the club never attained the vibe that it once reached, and in 2011, after 14 years as part of the circuit, the old girl finally shut her doors for the last time.

And while of course it makes me sad that yet another iconic clubbing institution has been removed from the Melbourne landscape, it does reaffirm my (subjective, I know) belief that I got to experience the Melbourne dance scene at its absolute best.

RIP Q.

P.S. Richie mate, when’s the wake?

Thanks to Richie, Mods, Beanie, Greg and Toby for their help in stringing these memories together, and another big thank you to Isadora, who I had a fantastic chat with the other day, but was unable to include any of her stories due to potential legal and moral repercussions!