Mousse-Spacthèque (Montreal)

1. Presentation

The Mousse-Spacthèque occupies a singular place in the history of Montreal discotheques. Located in a basement at 1467 Crescent Street, in an area poised to become one of downtown’s principal nightlife corridors, it was conceived as a “total environment” in which music was only one element among many—alongside light, colour, mannequins, volume and scent. Far from being limited to a dance floor, the discotheque functioned as a laboratory of environmental art applied to popular culture.

In archival sources, the name appears in multiple forms—Mousse Spagthèque, Mousse Spagtheque, Mousse Spactheque, Mousse-Spacothèque—reflecting both journalistic uncertainty and the project’s novelty. In the present entry, the spelling Mousse-Spacthèque is adopted as the museum form, while original spellings are preserved in quotations and notes.

“The Licorne was the first discotheque on the continent. Today, its initiators, Claude de Carufel and Gilles Archambault, are launching the Spagthèque, unique in the world, where space, time, movement, sound, colour and light will be united.”

2. Origins – from the Licorne to the “Spacthèque”

The genesis of the Mousse-Spacthèque is inseparable from the trajectory of the Licorne, a discotheque opened in 1962 in a former boiler room on Mackay Street and often described as the first commercial discotheque in North America. By the late 1960s, the press devoted several profiles to Gilles Archambault, sometimes dubbed “Mr. Discotheque,” in which the Licorne appeared as the starting point for a series of experimental venues—Crash, Baroque, Empereur, Mousse-Spacthèque—that redefined Montreal nightlife. ^2,3

In an article by Ingrid Saumart published in February 1969 in La Presse’s Spec supplement, Archambault is described as the “Montreal inventor of discotheques.” The piece traces his path from the Licorne to the Mousse-Spagthèque and already hints at new projects to come, confirming that for him the discotheque was merely one stage in a succession of formulas. ²

It is in this context that the idea of a venue designed less for “listening to music” than for inhabiting a décor emerged. Archambault and his associate Claude de Carufel turned to Jean-Paul Mousseau, an automatiste painter whose luminous ceilings and interventions in metro stations and public spaces had already left a mark on Montreal’s landscape. The discotheque thus became a site of experimentation: how could the artist’s research on light, colour and movement be translated into a nightclub?

3. Opening and first descriptions (1966)

The opening of the Mousse-Spacthèque was announced by La Presse on September 6, 1966. In the “Entre parenthèses” column, it was reported that “at 10 p.m.” that evening a new discotheque would open at 1467 Crescent Street. The text recalled that the Licorne had been the first discotheque on the continent and specified that its initiators were now launching the Spagthèque, “unique in the world,” emphasizing the promise of an environment combining “space, time, movement, sound, colour and light,” organized into three rooms—Cybèle, Pluton and Orphée—associated with relaxation, discovery and dynamism. ¹

A few days later, the Montreal Star published an illustrated article entitled “Newest Discotheque in Town Aims at Eye as Well as Ear.” The journalist described the Mousse Spactheque as the city’s newest discotheque, located in a Crescent Street basement, and noted that it appealed as much to the eye as to the ear. The venue was already crowded, but its distinguishing feature lay in its spatial layout and pervasive visual dimension. ⁴

“Unlike many other discotheques where nothing much differentiates one from another, the new Mousse Spactheque aims at the eye as well as the ear. Some thirty-five nude mannequins, abstract murals, a stainless-steel dance floor and a complex lighting system create an environment that is closer to an art installation than a bar.”

4. A “total environment” by Jean-Paul Mousseau

The Mousse-Spacthèque was conceived as a “total environment”, in which décor was not a mere backdrop but the very core of the experience. According to the Montreal Star, approximately thirty-five nude mannequins, sometimes headless or legless, were placed throughout the space: some served as banquette dividers, others as sculptures or visual anchors. Mirrors, abstract-patterned walls, a stainless-steel dance floor and sophisticated lighting completed a striking scenography. ⁴

“It is consecrated, dedicated to Woman, with a capital W. You will see three or four statues of Venus in white plaster. I have prepared 200 slides of beautiful women. Projectors will cast flares onto thousands of sockets suspended from the ceiling, creating the impression of a blazing, moving sky. It will be as beautiful as colour television on Channel 10!”

In January 1967, The Standard published a brief describing the discotheque as Montreal’s new “way-out discotheque,” designed by Jean-Paul Mousseau. The piece noted lavender-scented air conditioning, bar counters clad in faux leopard skin and bikini-clad mannequins—details that helped transform the venue into a multisensory installation engaging smell, sight and touch as much as hearing. ⁵

For Mousseau, the discotheque was a natural extension of his research into light and movement. Illuminated surfaces, mannequin silhouettes and reflections produced a succession of constantly transforming tableaux, animated by dance and shifting lighting. Far from being a fashionable décor, the Mousse-Spacthèque embedded contemporary art at the heart of a popular leisure venue, blurring the boundaries between gallery, stage and nightclub.

5. An “in” spot of Montreal nightlife

The Mousse-Spacthèque quickly became an “in” destination of Montreal nightlife. In January 1967, the Montreal Star reported that a press conference by actor Mel Ferrer, promoting the film Wait Until Dark, was held inside the discotheque, which served as a backdrop for photographers and society reporters. ⁶

In a major feature published in February 1969, La Presse’s Spec supplement devoted several pages to Montreal discotheques. A report titled “Ceux qui vont dans les discothèques et ceux qui les reçoivent” offered a panorama of venues then in operation, among which the Mousse-Spagthèque held a prominent place. ³ In the same issue, an article on the “Montreal inventor of discotheques” revisited the figure of Gilles Archambault and recalled that, after the Licorne, the Mousse-Spacthèque had become one of the principal laboratories of his nocturnal experiments. ²

“The Mousse-Spagthèque is a place you go as much to look as to dance. The mannequins, painted walls, steel floor and light compose a landscape that constantly changes, to the point where the décor itself becomes the real spectacle.”

During these years, Crescent Street asserted itself as an entertainment corridor where hotel bars, discotheques, cabarets and restaurants followed one another. The Mousse-Spacthèque played a pivotal role: frequented both by curious youth and a more society-minded clientele, it featured prominently in guides and nightlife columns as a showcase of Montreal modernity.

6. Metamorphoses of the site: Eve-Club and Sexe Machine

At the turn of the 1970s, the Mousse-Spacthèque’s cycle came to an end. In a column published on July 2, 1970 in La Presse, a quasi-theatrical scene was described: the discotheque’s sign was symbolically placed in a black coffin during a “funeral ceremony” marking the end of the Mousse-Spagthèque. The same piece announced the birth, in the same premises, of a new cabaret called the Eve-Club, whose décor—male mannequins and inverted feminine iconography—was presented as a kind of counterpoint to its predecessor. ⁷

A society brief published on August 20, 1970 in the Spec supplement specified that the Eve-Club, “which had known glory days when it was called ‘Mousse-Spagthèque,’” was being transformed into an underground cinema on Tuesday nights, under the direction of Gilles Archambault and a manager named Reggie Chartrand. The venue thus became a meeting point between nightlife culture and marginal cinema. ⁸

The site’s continuity extended further. In a November 6, 1971 article in the Gazette devoted to the supposed “death” of discotheques, the journalist cited the opening of a new underground discotheque at 1469 Crescent, the Sexe Machine, decorated with mannequins and erotic motifs. Described as a “subterranean nest of erotica,” it was presented as the latest mutation of a space previously occupied by the Mousse-Spacthèque and the Eve-Club. ⁹

From this perspective, the Mousse-Spacthèque was not an isolated episode but the first act of a Crescent Street trilogy in which the same basement successively became the Mousse-Spacthèque, the Eve-Club and then the Sexe Machine, each incarnation pushing further the limits of décor and provocation.

7. Legacy

For a long time, the Mousse-Spacthèque remained on the margins of popular narratives about Montreal discotheques, often eclipsed by the memory of the Sexe Machine and by the foundational role of the Licorne. Press archives nonetheless allow its place to be restored: it appears as a crucial link between the early “basement” discotheques of the early 1960s and the more explicitly erotic nocturnal experiments of the early 1970s.

Artistically, the Mousse-Spacthèque represents one of the moments when Jean-Paul Mousseau’s work collided head-on with popular culture. His experiments with light, colour and movement found in the discotheque a setting that addressed not museum visitors or metro users but a clientele that came to dance, drink and see—and be seen. The discotheque thus became a habitable gallery, in which one moved through an artistic dispositif without necessarily naming it “art.”

By situating the Mousse-Spacthèque within the sequence Mousse-Spacthèque → Eve-Club → Sexe Machine, a broader history of Montreal nightlife emerges, shaped by rapid transformations, changing signs and reconfigured décors, but also by deep continuities: the same actors, the same places, and the same experiments in organizing space, light and the gaze.