Walking down Commercial Drive at midnight on a Sunday is a lot different than Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, you guys. Especially while pulling a suitcase full of sweaty clothing that bounces with a scream on every bump as I harass the upstairs tenants of this quiet coastal community.

Ahh yes, the skytrain, a time for reflection.

I guess the best place to start this story is with my friend Tim. Kurt and I were trying to rest our legs for the many jumps ahead at a table near the full merch spread, and he said: "I wonder what this punk scene would be like without Russian Tim?..”

Pause, reflect.

Let us recognize and applaud what Tim has delivered to the local punk rock scene of Vancouver BC, and the many strange and amazing artists that he has let flood the stage with their various works. We are a lucky bunch, and we enjoy the lunch.

Okay, I made about 498 notes over the last 4 nights for this eventual post, and instead of forming paragraphs I’m just going to dump some randomly here, for all to view, since no one reads this far anyway, except you.

Presenting...several strange RFRF 2019 observations:

Dadweed looks and sounds exactly like a band called Dadweed should.

Learn to jump from Ben Von Dubs.

Steal The Brass Action full band dance.

Jesse Labour Day!

Rich Lowe makes any band better.

Holy fuck that Balkan rock between sets was piled high.

Never forget the Russian lyric flashcards.

Dave told the guy covered in paint to “get out” and he didn’t get out.

Saw Pederson's belt and fell into a table.

Thinking about how sweet it will be to drunkenly yell that I knew The Corps before they ever played the Commodore Ballroom.

Write a block about how amazing Kristy is and plug the new Rong EP.

Write a block about Michelle and Lucas and Michaela and Jamie Lee.

Just got caught ugly-eating pizza alone on the skytrain platform by old family friends.

Performing is a hell of a drug.

This scene is a softball team, and after every inning, everybody hugs.

The above photo is when Shafer literally collapsed after our set. This was his show, and he delivered. We knew it was weird, we knew it was on a Sunday, but we also knew that if we executed at maximum power, we might just get the win. And thanks to some incredible cameos and a room full of loving friends, we made the pin. 1-2-3, thanks for all the memories.

Until next time, suck it.


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