But hard work played a part, too, and anyone keyed into Vancouver’s indie music world in the 2010s would remember the unusually strong impression Peach Pit made when they stepped onto the scene — you’d be hard-pressed to attend a house party without hearing some tale of a recent epic Peach Pit show shared over a can of craft IPA. That hype was by design. 

“When we first started the band, we rehearsed a lot, a lot, a lot, for multiple years before we played a show, so that we could be really good the first time we played,” says Smith. “We wanted to leave a good impression with people the first time they ever saw us.” To draw an audience, Smith would offer discounts for anyone with a hard copy ticket. He would make the tickets on his computer, print them on card stock, and hand deliver them around the city. “I figured if I got an actual ticket in their hands then they would actually come to the shows. So I really tried to make sure we had people in front of us.” 

That determination meant Peach Pit made the most of Vancouver’s robust indie music infrastructure. As a teenager, Smith took part in a songwriting mentorship program with The Cultch, training under none other than Said the Whale’s Tyler Bancroft, a local celebrity if there ever was one. Bancroft introduced Smith to the city’s venues, established bands, and bookers, and encouraged him to put himself out there. “That’s the scariest part when you’re starting out, figuring out how to do all that stuff on your own,” recalls Smith. “But it’s actually really easy. All you have to do is email someone and be brave enough to ask for an opportunity.”

A few years later and one such email to a very young promoter behind Trash City Productions, who put on underground all-ages events across the city, got the ball rolling for Peach Pit. After seeing Winona Forever play a TCP event, Smith was inspired to reach out and ask to perform. Getting the green light from the promoter was so integral to Peach Pit’s success that Smith still remembers it vividly.  

“That’s the scariest part when you’re starting out, figuring out how to do all that stuff on your own.”

“I was with a couple of buddies in this little shitty basement suite, I had a mattress on the floor still, which is disgusting. I thought it was like, ‘Japanese,’ to have a mattress on the floor, like it was cool,” he shares with a bashful laugh. “But that was huge for us because there were so many opportunities to play shows, we could literally play every other week. It was so supportive, there were so many great music fans in Vancouver. It gave us a place to perfect playing live, which is so important for bands. It was a really cool scene.” 

If luck, hard work, and Vancouver’s indie infrastructure make up Peach Pit’s recipe for success, it’s the quartet’s relationship as best friends that puts the cherry on top. “We have an awesome thing going where we’re just good friends. Whenever we’re hanging out and working on records or music videos or touring, we just have so much fun together. We’re just laughing the whole time. We’re always cracking jokes. That’s something that’s really special to me, how we’ve been working together for 10 years and we don’t hate each other,” says Smith. “Even if the band was done, we would still hang out.”

That connection lends itself to a carefree and collaborative creative process. After Smith brings the bare bones of a song to the guys, that’s when it comes to life, with Vanderkooy layering in the spiciest of guitar solos, or Wilton working his magic to figure out the perfect arrangements. Though their dynamic has changed over the years as they’ve grown up —  since their last release, 2022’s 2 to 3, Vanderkooy and Wilton have both tied the knot, and Smith has gotten engaged — they’ve become a band with a lot of pressure to succeed, yet nonetheless maintained that down-to-earth, no fuss friendship. It’s the eternal bond of besties who show up no matter what life throws their way, through thick and thin, rain or shine.