In Montreal, afterparties are a way of life. Rather than simply a bonus round for those unbounded by daytime responsibility, Montrealers treat early morning soirées at mysterious warehouses as if they’re the main event. But when it comes to the illegal venues where these events take place, secrecy becomes a double-edged sword. The same discretion that might keep a loft under the radar of the police for another month or two can also leave the world at large without anything of substance to build a legacy on. Thus is the fate of erstwhile illicit locations such as Lab Synthèse, Friendship Cove, Silver Door, Tarot and the Fall, spaces that once dictated the late night flow of revellers across the city but now largely stand as ghostly reminders of bygone music scenes.

Located on a quiet, largely residential stretch of rue Saint-Urbain between rue Beaubien and rue Saint-Zotique, the Torn Curtain (Le Rideau déchiré in French) stood apart from other afterparty spots when it opened in August 2009. Named after the building’s tattered drapes, which reminded proprietor Phil Borden of the Alfred Hitchcock film and Television song, it was arguably the largest unofficial venue to come on the scene, at 8,000 square feet.

The Torn Curtain was also unique for the sheer variety of events that were held there, including post-punk shows, poetry readings, techno nights, experimental noise jams, theatrical plays and sex parties. An assortment of bands would hone their skills in the surrounding rehearsal rooms. Trapeze artists rented the main room during the week, practicing their aerial gymnastics by mounting swings that would vault them back and forth across the venue’s high ceiling.

One night, you could see d’Eon playing a live jungle set; on another, it might be Jacques Greene or Azari & III behind the decks. You never knew what to expect when you got to the Torn Curtain. The venue also provided a literal home for a loose collective of experimental sonic and visual artists called Internetisdead, serving as an incubator for the early incarnations of bands such as Grimes, Majical Cloudz and Doldrums.

There was conflict between those who lived there and those who partied there, an ideological disconnect between peaceful, futuristic hippies painting the walls on psychedelics and the coked-out weekend warriors cabbing up from Old Port. But the more successful Torn Curtain became as an underground nightclub, the closer it teetered on the precipice of collapse at the hands of the Service de police de la Ville de Montréal.