On paper their names should strike a chord: Kieran Adams, Victoria Cheong, Thom Gill, Jeremy Laing, Cam Lee, Philippe Melanson, Pôny, and others. All are involved in a number of other projects that glint a vibrant wink from what can seem to be, at times, a condo-sized void destined for ecstatic dilation and distillation. But the practice remains thoughtful, artful, and optimistic that a shared intersectionality will lead to new discoveries. Their ideas drive a dialectic of difference that is core to the functioning of the group's aesthetic, politics, and communal enterprise.
As of late, many of boop's members have orbited the Holy Oak nexus both as leaders and followers, making queer techno more of a prominent scene in Toronto. In the tradition of the Beaver for its consistency, talent, and audacity, through recent parties such as Feministry, Moon Sign, and Meow Meow, much of the aesthetic and ideological blueprints for boop have been established in the Holy Oak weekly rotation.
But what does boop mean exactly? On the one side, the name conjures the onomatopoeic brown note of bad plumbing; on the other, the name is phonologically echoic of the Joop! fragrance – each spicy in their own dogged way.
So it makes sense that the fairly Dadaist term came from supposed nonsense banter, and unsurprising I am also told some nuggets altogether precious and memorable, if not unresolvable:
/Boop is already too early AND too late.
/To be able to name it is almost antithetical of it. That's the boopiness of it. That's boop.
/A bo0p is flexible, a b♥♥p grieves prejudice, a b∞p goes on and on.
Witnessing the group tinker not just with ideas but a billowing tarp canopy, the guts of an old phone, dusky projections, fabrics, and other everyday materials turned objets d'art, makes for a moment of reverent irreverence. Yet, solipsism isn't at play: On the contrary, the art connects from the music to politics to Toronto's flourishing underground culture.
SAFE SPACE 4 ALL
A running force vitalizing this collective is that the cheekier the voice, somehow the more serious the conversation. As with previously related parties, the emphasis is on liberation from sexism, racism, homophobia, transphobia, or aggressive behaviour of any kind. Love is the letter and that is what should be adjudged – not the envelope.
Protecting queer concerns and culture from insensitivity, violence, and crude appropriation or dismissal is a pressing frontier for the collective. In this way, boop tweaks its expressive conduit against dominant codes and pathways toward more open and active participation. When race, age, and orientation are taken as given norms – that's precisely the moment boop enters the dialogue begging a thoughtful reconsideration.
While a safe space may seem at first glance as rule-bound as hegemonic spaces, this perception doesn't have to be ironic or a tacit form of policing. There is always the risk of deflating the raw energy that made queer spaces liberating in the first place, but an agreed upon social framework, at least initially, allows room for people to step onto a dancefloor and make that experience for themselves, to expand on already activated social conventions.
This generative aspect to the Toronto spaces they inhabit and actively deconstruct at any given moment means there is no end goal in how they frame an event. Whether you are part of the collective or not, inclusion is supposed to be the most powerful part of boop, with the hope of expanding the parameters of queer liberation.
Engage the brains and bodies around you, because the more voices, the greater the likelihood for collaboration and solidarity. We all have the skills to look, feel, and sound welcoming to weirdness and idiosyncrasy, which is especially crucial for people who feel they have no space otherwise to occupy.
BLOOPS & BLEEPSTheir sonic approach demonstrates this alt aesthetic, and within it an unmistakable tension between underground and pop. Even for nights zoned for techno, bubblegum pop can rear its saccharine gooey head: you'll hear tracks by Venga Boys booping uglies up against Marcel Dettmann. Even members are surprised by the tracks their co-conspirators play. But instead of the clichéd efforts to attempt mastery and control, sharing of sets is key.
A BOOP @ THE POWER PLANT?
Part of the joy of discovery is preserving the fine line between mystique and the explained. So…what booping will power the plant this August 20th?
Entombed embryonic plastiks?
Secret smells?
[Time lapse heat?]
Soft pyramid body barricades providing safety in motion? Will there be horns, tails, spinal spikes, or other morphological protuberances? Who's to say.
Spiralling squiggles and squiggling spirals?
Analogue phone handsets as monitor headphones?
What now.
Perhaps the most taboo ultrasonic bloops will always have its matching censorious bleeps. But from the latter limitation there may be an even more forceful regrouping of voice and praxis, and what results is an even stronger sense of togetherness, collaboration, and community. Those participating in the boop groop takeover are invited to show their solidarity by wearing luminous white fabrix.
