In a city mauled by addiction, sober spaces like Club Soda give some much needed colour to those in recovery
Adam Wallace (he/him) // Humour Editor
Livvy Hung (she/her) // Illustrator
I’ve had problems with liquor spanning back to high school, but the culture of binge drinking combined with the easy recovery of a teenage hangover blurred my ability to recognize it. While I always had a feeling I wasn’t a ‘responsible drinker,’ it wasn’t until I hit 20 that I started to realize I had a serious problem. Over the next few years, I would spend months sober here and there, but would always fall back into old habits and get severely wasted, mostly alone and struggling to beat a level of Lego Star Wars. It took until 2024 for my sobriety to stick, hopefully for good, but one day at a time nonetheless.
When you quit liquor, you really begin to take stock of just how much our culture wants you to take the first drink. It’s hard to escape the immediate availability of a seemingly innocuous craft beer or a nice glass of wine, and you start to get a false sense that the only way you can have a good night out is by partaking. That’s where sober communities like Club Soda come in.
Founded by Conor Levesque, Club Soda began with By the Hour Comedy in January 2024 which stemmed from Levesque’s desire to perform stand-up outside of alcohol-serving venues. “I knew that if I hung around in these venues long enough that I may end up having a drink and then immediately do cocaine ‘cause that’s how I do,” Levesque comments. When approached by other performers in recovery, he expanded this idea to Club Soda, which he describes as, “a growing collective of artists in recovery that look to connect, inspire and promote each other through live events, workshops and anything else creative.”
When I went to Club Soda at The Crossing to see the By the Hour Comedy show this past December, I was greeted by a rare sight. An alcohol-free bar, with the distinct purpose of alcohol replacement, was serving hops-infused soda water, dealcoholized wine and other drinks of that nature. They were $4 or so per drink, costing less than any alcoholic beverage usually sold at an art gallery. I bought a can of sparkling hop-water to calm the nerves brought on by going somewhere new alone, and it worked. My hands were busy holding a can, the repeated motions of taking small sips here and there; it’s exactly what I remember the first beer feeling like, but without the inevitable downfall I would have later on in the night.
Levesque describes recovery crowds as the best to perform for, as, “they are there to laugh and enjoy the hell out of themselves and that’s exactly what they do.” He follows up his statement saying, “Shoutout to [Together We Can] and all of the amazing recovery houses in B.C.” Sober crowds want to laugh, want others to succeed and have a deep well of empathy. These traits help a stand-up comedian feel comfortable on stage. When stand-up is performed where everyone’s drinking, there’s a certain volatility to the situation; the same volatility that’s present with drunk people in general. With a sober audience, there’s a much more easy-going nature. By the Hour Comedy was a good example of this.
I greatly advocate for sober spaces like Club Soda that are open for everyone to enjoy. It’s proof that there is joy and colour to be had in a sober world; when you’re in the grips of addiction, it’s hard to believe that fact. Spaces like Club Soda ought to be held in higher demand than they currently are, because they’re doing the work of separating ‘having a good time’ from substances.
“There’s not a single part of my life that hasn’t improved since I quit drinking. But, if I was a door-to-door salesman selling sobriety, I would tell you that the sex is much better sober,” says Levesque.