31/12/2022
2022, the year we said 'see ya' to Sydney, and the beloved community we cultivated, housed, adored, grew with, got down with, and ultimately grieved with too.
This picture was taken at 3:55 on Dec 11. 5 min before our final flight. To the right of this picture stands a line of sentimental mo********ers many blocks long. Pictured is a collection of staff returning for a final shift on our final service, a therapeutic sayonara. Some hadn't pulled a b**r in years. At any one time, we held a staff of 50, for an industry as 'transient' as hospitality, Frankie's held it's staff for years at a time in most cases, all of whom are family ongoing, and critical to the legacy of the joint.
On announcing a closing date, every single day was record breaking. Dee Snyder famously remarked on the impossibility of writing another chartbusting anthem of underdog rebellion while tanning by the 50 metre pool afforded to him by the success of his first foray in breadline hitmaking 'We're Not Gonna Take It'. It's only natural that after a period of such dynamic success, a tapering, a dilution, or a surrender of some sort sets in. Isaac Newtown mused on it also. How many fourth albums are better than the first?
So it's conciliatory, or even kinda cryptically 'lucky' that the death knell rung while we were ripping at our most venomous. Never will the world know a Frankie's other than at it's most potent, balls out version of itself.
We're not sad. We're proud. We've closed but still can't print tee shirts quick enough to meet demand, so for your allegiance, and insistent repping of what we built, and what we shared together, we thank you all.
From here out we'll drop some vids and s**t, we'll keep printing tees as long as you wanna buy them, and while highly unlikely you'll see a return under this same name, the block's been demolished but the beasts behind it haven't been. So keep that candle lit mo********ers, you never know.
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2012-2022
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