The bands were forever changing their names or breaking up, the money was terrible, the venues were fleapits and the promoters were vile. It was great. The largest and most prestigious venue in the inner north was Bombay Rock, a former wedding reception centre on Sydney Road just past the Brunswick Town Hall. The Bombay’s blank façade was painted black and you entered through a side street, up a flight of bare concrete stairs. The door was tended by bouncers only recently descended from the trees. Raised by pit bulls and selected for their stupidity, violence and eagerness to take offence, they took great pleasure in pitching luckless punters down the stairs headfirst like ballistic missiles. In those days, there was nothing hip about Brunswick. Licensing regulations dictated that alcohol could only be served if accompanied by a substantial meal, so the punters got a ticket entitling them to choose either an all-leather dim-sim or a wedge of mystery pizza from a bain-marie at the bar.
What do You think about Death In Brunswick (2012)?
