November 14, 2007

Having had the pleasure of seeing Bad Religion, Strung Out and MYC play at Sydney’s Hordern Pavilion prior to their Melbourne show, I was blown away by not only all three bands, but the caliber of the Sydney venue AND crowd. Generally speaking, I believe Sydney to be merely Melbourne’s duller metrosexual older brother, but damn they turned it on last Wednesday. The shmick Hordern Pavilion exposed our ‘Festy Hall’ for the nightmarish shambles that it is.

I hereby request that those responsible for the ‘accidental’ incineration of The Palace be called to arms to attend to this blight on Melbourne’s live music scene as its evident gig-goers are tired of the echoey chasm of Festy that is complimented so nicely by the shuddering bass floorboards, and the sweltering temperature which is always exacerbated by zero ventilation. Oh and if you were hoping to step out to catch a breath of fresh air, “there are strictly NO pass outs ma’am”.

Argh! If nothing else a vigilante A Team needs to be assembled to put into place what are possibly the most overzealous security personnel Melbourne punters have ever had the displeasure of dealing with. Within minutes of entering the venue, security checked our bags AND accessories. People in front of us were told to remove their studded belts, possibly for fear of them entering the venue, conquering the burgeoning crowd, bypassing stage security, seizing Greg Graffin mid-furious fist shake and shlacking him across his bald-spot with it.

Then there’s the security that ushers puzzled patrons into the toilets, ensuring no one is carrying alcohol (reasons unknown).

Or those that usher you over miscellaneous white lines around the venue in the name of incomprehensible logic.

Or security that closed the venue’s bars at 10.15, half way into Bad Religions set.

Or the security that upon conclusion of that set, closed half the venue’s exits before herding the sea of punters elsewhere out of the building and onto the street, and then pushing them further off the street and up into the hills of North Melbourne like a lost herd of smelly, exhausted mountain goats.

Though the day I witness Bad Religion live again may be so painfully far away, I pray the day I attend Festy Hall again is even further.