Mount Olympus

by Kenneth Fury

Saint John is a city that struggles with momentum. The Scene builds itself to great heights, suffers a massive set back either in regards to bands who break up or even venue issues. People in the scene ruminate on this and eventually become frustrated and are either forced to move away as previously mentioned, leaving an even greater pit in the soul of the scene.

The people whom are left behind and want to see a scene thrive are forced into finding a solution. In the spring of 2016, a member of the Saint John band Loveover presented a solution; a storage room in the local Greek community centre. Yurgos, the aforementioned members gathered his band, enlisted the of his peers from other bands in Saint John, from Thirsty Camel to the Bloodclots. Bruce Torrie, a friend to the Bloodclots, rigged up a system to allow for enough power to get into the actual room we considered the venue and soon enough an opening show was booked.

The venue quickly became known as Mount Olympus, names by Yurgos. Posters for shows were drawn, all those involved in cleaning and organizing posted relentlessly about the upcoming venue. As someone who was part of the cleaning, I want to describe to you how absurd the situation was. We moved, and I shit you not, weight machines, meat grinders, popcorn makers, endless amounts of garbage, paintings, multitudes of chairs, tables, a framed picture of pastries and numerous other oddities. But soon enough, it became playable, if not prone to jokes about asbestos.

Mount Olympus

Sati Byers

The initial shows there were successful, if not chaotic, but hey, it's punk. The crowds at Mount Olympus were varied, people who had never been to shows came sometimes for the Instagram picture to post later, sometimes they became staples of the scene. The shows were open to everyone and anyone, both un lineups and those who wanted to come. The moshing was genuinely fun and people were incredibly respectful about those who fell. For a lot of people, it was the best venue they'd been to, mostly for the major fact of how free it was.

The venue only became better as it was given more time and attention. The dust seemed permanently stuck to the floor (I had a black pair of Doc's that were often a gray/brown and needed a hose down after every show). Bands began using it as a jam space which in turn caused it to become a space to record demos. And at it's most basic level, to those who spent so much time just hanging out in there between shows, it was home. Graffiti, done by both artists and the bands began to take hold of every inch it could. Mount O's aesthetic grew into itself.

Mount Olympus

Sati Byers

The booking started to involve touring bands. Those who were involved in those shows can attest that they were always some of the most memorable. In fact, a touring band played the last set ever at the venue. Bands like La Fete or 1971 left people feeling like the city and venue could be a real destination. While we had no illusions of being CBGB's, sometimes it felt like we could.

By August, it felt like we had built the most solid foundation we could. Things were smooth sailing, for the most part. Of course we had issues with the rampant underage drinking and stories of sexual harassment from both genders occurred. Despite intentions to keep a tight ship, admittedly, it could have been a safer space. As someone who was involved so heavily with it, I felt like I had disapointed, let down and overall failed to provide a safe space for people attending. While issues regarding personal safety weren't frequent, the fact it happened even once is a stain on the memory of the venue for many, myself included.

The venue even had an art exhibit planned for the end of the month. All of the momentum abruptly stopped when the owners of the storage room informed Yurgos, Will Jordan, Alec Martin (who had spent his summer booking shows) and Dusty Bayerle that we were to be evicted. They pleaded to wait until after the show with a touring band, the 1971, had happened. The owners obliged and the execution date for the venue was set.

The final show was the defining show for myself and summed up everything about the venue. People were shocked, broken up and overall pissed about the news of closing. The show's lineup was stacked full of favourites; Thirsty Camel, Street Light Parking Lot and a touring band, 1971. The pits were some of the wildest, and everything was left there. Every word people knew was yelled out as hard as they could and before long, it felt like a celebration of what we had accomplished rather than a funeral service for the venue. Crowdsurfing happened in abundance and everyone was engaged. Everyone felt like they knew each other there and really, it became probably the weirdest family gathering any of us had experienced. Leaving that venue for the last time left me feeling empty and defeated. However in retrospect, as bitter as we can possibly be about it closing, we made the city a blip on the map for a minute. We had something of our own. From the weird and wild stories to the sets that were played, we left that venue as better people.

For that, I'm grateful.

Rest east, Mount O, I miss you often.