Maybe I was lonely, mostly I was bored, so I went for a stroll in a seldom travelled neighborhood. I walked into this dark and dingy little club on a Tuesday night. The room was filled with cigarette smoke and the walls were covered in what could have been piss stains. Nobody interesting had ever set foot in this establishment before, of that, I felt sure. The bar was lined with rough men sitting on stools like they’ve been there forever. They paid no attention to me. I take a seat in the back, order a beer and wait for this mystery band to start. I assume it’s going to be some sort of house band that’s probably as rough as the bar itself, but I soon realize I’m wrong. Nine people walk out, crowding onto the stage. I had serious doubts about this clutter. But once they began the room transformed. The bar turns into an outdoor festival. The slab of cement they’re standing on turns into a large main stage and the old men are suddenly cheering fans. I look up at each of the nine members as though I’ve been waiting all night to see them. It only took a couple songs for me to believe I was there on purpose. The album ends and I’m back in the bar. The nine walk off stage, but it’s okay. I know where they’re going. (Pacific Theatre, thebamboos.com) Kaitlyn Emslie Farrell