By Evan Dickson

“you have to establish yourself in the community like i did, im realllllllllllllly valued right now im pretty cherished and protected with ALOT of spells” [sic]

Community is a tricky word around these parts. Depending on who’s around when you use it, it’s equally likely that you’ll be met with rolling eyes, complaints, enthusiasm, jokes, or confusion. It’s a particularly delicate subject to be discussing from the perspective of Wavelength, the series for which community-building is the official mandate. People who support Toronto indie music typically acknowledge some sort of music community, though many are unable — or unwilling — to define it. Does it refer to a shared identity or values, or merely a shared bar or message board? Has Toronto’s music scene become an exclusive clique that uses the word “community” to draw borders instead of bridges? Wavelength asked a variety of local musicians, bookers, writers, and music fans to describe how they felt when they first became involved in “the community” and what they think it’s all about.

Not surprisingly, feeling like an outsider at their first few T.O. shows was a shared experience for several of the people interviewed. Those who know Trevor Coleman (former captain of The Boat and recent WL booker) might be surprised to learn that he felt this way. “I was incredibly intimidated by what I perceived as a vast, connected network of people who all seemed to know each other and to know everything about what was going on.” But, as Lauren Schreiber (vocalist/flautist for Entire Cities and ALL CAPS! sidekick) puts it, “You go to one show and everyone is a stranger, but when you go to 10 shows, you start recognizing faces.”

Many people reading this article will identify with that process of alienation, followed by integration. But integration into what? Is there actually a “common purpose” and “a lot of care and interest in everyone else’s projects” shared by community members, as Kate Carraway (music journalist) suggests? Coleman doesn’t think so. “I would really like to encourage people to rethink their whole idea of community,” he says. “The way the word is used now tends to imply this big buddy-buddy gang of people all happily lending sugar to each other when it’s cake-baking time. In reality, communities are just groups of people who happen to share space, whether that space is a small town, a message board, or a couple of clubs in downtown Toronto. No similarity of purpose or ideology is implied.” The image of a community as a team of friends supporting and encouraging each other is appealing, but doesn’t that exclude anybody who is not in that close group of friends, that clique?

People naturally form social groups with like-minded others, but it’s important to examine where these group’s lines are drawn and how firmly. “I noticed right off the bat that there was this schism between the so-called ‘indie’ scene, which seemed to be more clique-y and the ‘independent’ musicians, who were essentially just unsigned, unhyped bands,” says Mike Perreault (former guitarist for Oh the Humanity). “I know that sounds bad, but that’s really what separates the ‘scene’ from the ‘community’.” Mike doesn’t like it, but he sees a border between an indie “community” and indie “scene.” The former is the group of friends with a perceived common interest that Kate described. What is the latter? The Devil is always in the details. Talking about The Community of supportive art-friends is uplifting when sharing pitchers at Sneaky Dee’s, but the idea has a dark side. As the buzz fades, you are pressed to define who exactly is in The Community and who is out. The end of Utopia is a stranger asking, “What about me?”

From nations to knitting circles, the struggle between social harmony and individual dissent takes place in every kind of social structure. Duncan MacDonell (Your Band Sucks, a.k.a. Doc Pickles, former Wavelength MC) believes that conflict is important to keeping a community dynamic. “It’s always a fight to keep the door open; letting sincerity in and keeping mediocrity out. Once people feel too settled and safe in a comfortable community, there’s no struggle; without individual struggle then all that remains is craft and not a lot of art.” Unfortunately, as Coleman observes, “The word community is supposed to make people feel included, but it’s too often used to separate ‘those who do’ from ‘those who watch,’ or even more specifically, ‘those who agree with my views of what should be done’ from ‘those who disagree.’” In this way the term ‘community’ can be used to insulate oneself from dealing with conflicting viewpoints. No need to confront somebody when you can simply erase them from your universe by defining them out of The Community. But to do so is to break up the dream of a nebulous, shifting, indefinable Toronto Indie Arts Community into easily defined, isolated boxes. Even the well-intentioned purveyors of Wavelength can sometimes forget that ours isn’t the only game in town.

Everybody who contributed to this article acknowledged the existence of some form of community among Toronto’s musicians and music fans, but talking about it often makes people uncomfortable. Define who’s in and you reflexively define who’s out. Yet there have to be some borders, or the whole idea of a community becomes absurd. Provincial liquor laws have a profound effect on local music, but nobody would argue that Dalton McGuinty is a member of Toronto’s indie rock community. “‘Community’ is ultimately a word that I’m confused by these days,” said Alex Durlak (I Can Put My Arm Back On You Can’t, ETAOIN SHRDLU, early Wavelength co-founder). “Does it refer to the close friends that I’ve met through playing shows in this city? Does it refer to the other bands that I share camaraderie with? Does it refer to infrastructure like Wavelength that allows others to enjoy the music being made in this city? Does it refer to both the people that make the music and those who enjoy it?”

The word community shouldn’t be used to alienate people or intimidate them into consensus. It’s just a way of describing social connections. There is no one official Community, only networks connected to networks going beyond the scope of any individual’s awareness. Stick with Durlak. There’s enlightenment in his confusion. Leave the borders vague and remind others to do the same. Stick with Durlak when he says, “The one thing that I can confidently say is that amongst the people I know making music in this city, there is a sense of confidence that was never there before. A sense that things can be built, that people both within and outside of this city can and will pay attention.”