Lucky: Victoria's Last Great Indie Bar
Saluting a Champion of Local Music
Words by Adam Zonnis / Images by Andrea Zonnis
The evening air on Lower Yates St is charged with possibility: there will be liquor, music, one-night stands. I’m waiting outside Lucky Bar. The doorman is tracking down Dylan Pitcher, the bar’s owner. A handful of eager socialites are lined up behind the rope, waiting for Lucky’s doors to open. This place might be older than most of us remember, but the youthful faces in the queue to get in never seem to age.
Dylan arrives at the door and welcomes me in. He’s in his late thirties with a slightly shaggy mop that rides the line between party and professional. He asks me to wait a few minutes while he and his staff finish prepping for the night’s festivities. Fridges are being stocked, the DJ is setting up his gear. The lights dim to a deep twilight. The tone is set for what will inevitably turn into a room full of sweat and booze that drips with sexual energy.
Long and narrow, Lucky’s single room is wholly focused on the stage at its far end. A few sparse tables offer seating to those who need it. But the majority of the space is left unencumbered by furniture, freeing half the venue to become its wide-open dance floor. Vintage brick walls, typical of Victoria’s historic architecture, are adorned with event posters, eclectic lamps and lights, and liquor paraphernalia.
Lucky’s barroom has seen its share of upgrades and renovations over the years, but has always managed to maintain its authentic feel, never pandering to current trends. Near the entrance, a Harley Davidson sits atop a ledge about eight feet from the ground. Dylan is an avid rider. Originally, a ‘69 Ducati lived there, but it was taken back by its owner in 2006. It was replaced by a rusty ‘70 Kawasaki. During Covid, and the bar’s most recent refresh, they were offered a great deal on the current, Italian-made Repeato Harley. Apparently it still runs great. If you’re lucky enough to be there on a particularly wild night, they may even fire up the engine for a full-blown rev in neutral. It’ll happen as the crowd files out into the street at closing. Not everyone enjoys the fumes of a two-stroke engine while they dance.
As the bar opens, the early-birds arrive and order shots. And, shockingly, a few bottles of Lucky Lager for under five bucks a piece. Thus it begins.
Now that the evening is underway, Dylan returns to chat. Together we head up the stairs beside the stage and into Lucky Bar’s infamous green room. Having performed here more than a handful of times, I’m glad to see that this room is unchanged. Band stickers and signatures cover the walls, stools and gear are piled into the corners, and the same black leather couches that have hosted acts such as The Eagles of Death Metal, Xavier Rudd, Father John Misty, Kim Mitchell, Econoline Crush, and Sparta, invite us to come take a seat.
I’ve known Dylan for about fifteen years now. He’s always struck me as being uncharacteristically chill for being a club owner, and this is reflected in the way he runs his business. Starting as a doorman in 2004, he worked his way up to bartender, then manager. When the previous owner decided to sell, they worked together on a purchase offer that enabled Dylan to buy it, and ensure that the place stayed within the Lucky family. The club has been a part of his life for almost his entire adulthood. He can’t imagine a world without it. He strives to let Lucky be defined by the staff and patrons that inhabit it, allowing the space to generate its own unique, self-created personality.
“Sometimes that means things get weird. Like the band that broke up on stage mid-set, which was both awful and epic. Or the DJ who also demonstrated karate moves…including weapons displays. Or the middle-aged Scottish lady who took a nap in a bathroom stall and was angry that she’d missed the show when she was awoken during the final sweep at 4am.”
I can personally attest to witnessing some of the strangeness during White Cowbell Oklahoma’s Halloween show. I was pulling chainsawed pumpkin out of my hair for days.
Supporting local music is central to Lucky’s core mission. For years they ran the Wednesday night Blender series, inviting five local bands to perform each night. They also produced shows for The Zone’s Band of the Month showcase, and have been a launchpad for many local indie acts. Lucky has always been the place for locals to play, the next stepping-stone after selling out smaller venues such as Logan’s or the Copper Owl (both of which are sadly now gone). Currently, Lucky is booking live shows across all genres for Thursdays and Fridays, and working towards revitalizing Blender night once they have fully recovered from the pandemic.
On the pandemic: if it weren’t for the support of both the BC and federal governments, this article would be an epitaph. Even with financial support, Lucky barely scraped by. Dancing is such an integral part of the Lucky experience, it was impossible for them to open under restrictions like required seating. They almost gave up a number of times. However, Dylan notes that sticking through the challenge was the best choice he ever made. The day the restrictions lifted, February 16, 2022, was also his birthday, and one of the most surreal and uplifting experiences of his life. Most of the staff have since returned, and the bar is as busy as ever.
Though it’s just one bar, Lucky owns many distinctive personalities. Live bands, touring DJs, or the long-running weekly 90210 night on Mondays – all deliver a unique experience. And they have no intention of slowing down or fading from relevance. One of the biggest shows they’ve ever hosted is scheduled for February 2023. It hasn’t been officially announced, but Plaid, a genre-defying electronic duo that blurs the lines between dance, ambient, and progressive house, will be gracing the Lucky Bar stage. Don’t be surprised to see me there.
