101 Things I Love About Sydney

The late noughties hang out for Sydney Uni arts students of choice, there was one real reason why we loved the Fair Trade Cafe in Glebe, which recently closed its doors. Was it the ethically correct, fine tasting coffee, or the fact the proceeds went towards volunteer projects in third world countries? Or was it the fact that you were bound to hear at least one overly loud conversation about someone's documentary project, short film or band?

No, it was the fact that, ironically, unlike the ironically titled Well Connected cafe next door (one of the first internet cafes in Sydney), The Fair Trade Cafe actually had wi-fi.

I officially have a new favourite bar.
And if a lot of you Sydneysiders are wondering what a bar is, it's like a pub but much smaller, and without pokies or dozens of plasma screens.

The Shady Pines Saloon, tucked away in a back alley in Darlinghurst, is not only a revelation in authentic, wild west speakeasy aesthetics, it's also a revelation in showing Sydney can do hidden novelty bars as good as New York. It's also building a solid following (with line ups unfortunatelty), and not in the usual Sydney way which involves launch parties with big name DJs and celebrity nobodies posing for pictures by the pool. It's website even boasts of the fact it doesn't take private bookings or exclusive hires (except for Willie Nelson). It's building solid hype due solely to the blogosphere, bar reviews and word of mouth.

First up: the look. You do literally feel like you've walked into the Hill Valley Saloon in 1885 Hill Valley ala Back To The Future 3. Everything down to the fittings and the furniture look authentically anitiquey, and thank god. Cause the odd thing sticking out (like say Lady Gaga playing on the stereo) would turn this into a kitsch cheesy simulacra. Oh it's still kitsch alright, but it's authentic kitsch and not dumb, cash in kitsch.

Secondly: the drinks. These guys know their stuff. I asked about pale ales and got blown away by their range and knowledge of Aussie microbrews I'd never heard of. If you want a VB, go elsewhere. If you like to drink whiskey during the day, this is your new home. Start redirecting mail now.

Of course being the bunch of novelty seekers us Sydneysiders are, everyone will go once just so they can say they've been. But this place feels like it deserves more than that and hopefully will be around for ages. Long enough even for them to open up a noughties themed retro bar next door, which will undoubtedly have bloggers raving about their authentic plasma screens, VB and Lady Gaga music.

$17.50 for a movie ticket? Really? Not even a 3D one - $17.50!?!?! What kind of ridiculous price fixing is at work here, when pretty much all the chains charge $17 or $17.50 for the extreme luxury item of sitting in a seat for two hours to watch a sequel to a toy advertisement (Transformers 2), or in the case of Shrek 4, a 90 minute ad for toys.

To put it in perspective, we have quite possibly the most expensive movie admission prices in the world. From vague memory seeing a first run movie was about $13 in New York (US$10.50), $14 in London (£8) and if you went on a Tuesday, $4.40 in Toronto (C$4). I even saw a Bollywood movie in India for 30 rupees (75 cents).

Sydney - really. What the fuck?

And they wonder why we're downloading movies. You wouldn't steal a car - you wouldn't steal a handbag. True, but the cost of cars and handbags hasn't doubled in the last decade, the cost of cars has in fact largely come down.

On an aside, tickets to next months Sydney Film Festival haven't gone up and this year are a comparatively reasonable $17 (Or $13.50 if you buy a 10 pass). So screw the chains, go see some art house crap ahead of time for cheaper, and support our arts organisations.

With the current shitstorm about the Melbourne Storm breaching their salary cap and losing all their trophys filling our airwaves it's worth noting that really, no else in the country (let alone the world) probably cares. Ever try explaning the state-by-state break down of our football codes to an American? Their eyes glaze over like a Dunkin donut and they the subject soon changes to Superbowl half time shows. The whole idea of a salary cap in the land of the free is a concept about as foreign as universal healthcare or nationalised public broadcasting.

In Melbourne too, no one probably cares. I bet it's on page 14 in The Age, next to the ad for a new slow-core, shoe-gazing post-folk gig at the community cafe latte gallery (with potato cakes) - accessible by privatised public transport.

Rugby League is a predominantly New South Welshmans infatuation (the league itself was called the NSWRL up until as recently as 1994), and the rest of the country is pretty much Aussie Rules dominated (except with the World Cup is on, and then we all love football football - or soccer as Americans call it).

And with a second Sydney AFL team on the way, the Melbourne Storm fiasco could possibly send a lot of League converts back to other codes in all the southern states. So get ready for a return of the North Sydney Bears! And heaven forbid The Footy Show and Matty Johns might have to actually say something for a change!

Keep loving your Rugby League Sydneysiders, you're the only ones.

The best thing about Rugby League remains Tina Turner's brief infatuation with the sport in 1989/1990 as demonstrated in this spontaneous show of appreciation:

And Rugby League player aren't known for their political stances either, as Mal Meninga shows us:

It's 2010 and I still can't believe how many people I talk to who have never heard of The Mac, let alone set foot in it.

Located at the back of Central Station and with upstairs accommodation, you get a few country bumpkins setting foot inside Sydney's home of funk - which is exactly what this is. Free funk and blues/roots music, most nights of the week barring the anti-social ones. In a country where it seems there's more and more cover charges for worse and worse cover bands (oh they played Mr Jones and Two Princes - what a surprise) - The Mac is a haven for original music from talented musicians. Some of my favourite acts like Ray Mann, The Bakery and Extended Family are usually playing here, and the only cover band I can stomach Johnny G & The E Types which plays Stax era Booker T covers with such gusto that Otis Redding would sit in if he was in town. And that's the other secret, thanks to some well connected bookers, The Mac often offers free secret shows from visiting internationals, like Jon Cleary or one of Harry Connick Jr's horn players.

The newly renovated and opened venue upstairs, The Raval probably deserves it's own entry - but it's such a secret, great spot I'm afraid to talk about it too much for fear more people will discover it. It's like the parlour room of an old rich French uncle from the 19th century - all antique couches, chandeliers and stained glass. This is the kind of venue The Basement wishes it was - all class. It's such a good venue you don't care who's playing - you just want to take interstate guests their to drink absinthe and impress them and pretend it's your own private club. Make any excuse to go check it out.

Oh and if you need another excuse to visit - they brew their own beer!

Okay, so Spectrum is nothing special. The sound is crappy, the conditions often cramped and the beer range average.

But when it opened however (was it 2003 or 2004?), it was nothing short of revelatory. The term "indie club" have never really been heard before in Sydney, and punters were confused. "A club? That plays nothing but indie? Surely they must have a few nights a week of hard house? Hmphwhwt!" people would remark.

It really helped kick-start an era in Sydney. And god bless it, it hasn't changed since.

Since the closing of The Hopetoun Hotel it's also pretty much the default small venue for up-and-coming and unknown interstate bands.

The reason I'm picking it however, is it's reliability. There's pretty much nowhere else to go out on a Friday or a Saturday night for a cheap, late night dance with a decent crowd (i.e. not all rich 18 year olds). And the music policy, while at times erratic, usually centres on lots of cheeky old retro, and you can usually be guaranteed at least one Bowie song. I DJ'd here once and basically just played The Rushmore soundtrack - and the crowd lapped it up.

Viva le Spectrum!

For a recent birthday I wanted to assemble a very small group of my closest friends for a proper sunday afternoon catchup. Somewhere with good character, good beer, in a quiet spot that wouldn't be crowded with pokies, footy screens or backpackers.

That is why I chose the Lord Nelson. A micro-brew pub before the term even existed, their finely crafted home made ales (you can see the brew tanks through a glass window in the back) are STILL winning awards after all these years. The first time I ever tasted a Three Sheets - it was like the three course meal gum out of Willy Wonka's Factory. An amazing mix of flavours that rippled down your tastebuds like a waterfall.

Of course the unpretentious, yet not slummy vibe is good too. It's one of Sydney's oldest pubs, an old sandstone building, tucked on an out of the way corner of The Rocks. Oh and they serve pints. This and Opera Bar are my two favourite places to take tourists when in town, and The New York Times even gave it a mention recently in a great travel article about the ultimate wekened in Sydney.

As part of it's '36 Hours in...' travel series, The New York Times finally got around to profiling a great weekend in Sydney. And as usual, Sydney does things bigger and grander than most other cities, and got a full 60-ish hours, instead of the usual fleeting Friday to Sunday morning.

And as with all their politics and arts writing, I pretty much agree with everything the NYTimes says - as their recommendations go for the slightly more obscure and cultural over the tourist cliche, including: my favourite microbrew pub The Lord Nelson in the Rocks, The Manly Ferry, The Sydney Theatre Company, Hannah's Pies (who supply Harry's Cafe De Wheels), Surry Hills, Spice I Am (shhhhhh!), and of course the expensive things for cashed up Americans like Bridge Climb, Cafe Sydney and Rockpool.

Make it Kirribilli Markets instead of the Rocks markets and maybe a Belvoir play over an STC, and a drink at Opera Bar, and you've pretty much got the ultimate Sydney weekend.

I recently got back from 15 months away, and one of the signs that the Sydney music scene had actually improved, despite the closure of several iconic venues, was the emergence of the Melbourne-esque, obscure small bar phenomenon: with venues like the unsignposted Chingalings, and the subject of this entry: Good God Small Club (sub-heading: late night danceteria).

Located in the heart of the Spanish quarter, some genius had the idea of taking the backroom of the La Campagna salsa dance hall and turning it into a very small club. And in a city fascinated with mega-pubs like Ivy and super-clubs like Home, it was a refreshing change. Not nearly as refreshing as its music policy, which focused on bringing in some of Sydney's better music nerd promoters for nights focusing on progressive niche genres like dubstep, Baltimore Miami whateveryoucallit (Wamp Wamp), 1940's-1960's lo-fi obsure-ana (Jingle Jangle). As well as regular club nights, it also welcomed small-sized hype bands doing somewhat secret shows (Hawnay Troof, Spank Rock). Adding to the mystique, the entrance was literally behind another dance floor - you'd have to walk past salsa-ing middle aged women to get to it. The size of the club was also one perfect little room, with a tropicana decorated DJ booth and a good range of not-too pricey beers.

I was hoping to hold my next Twist And Shout 60's Dance Party there. I emailed them last week hoping and never heard back. Now I know why.

Throw Shapes is reporting that GoodGod has mysteriously closed and the guys who run it have had no explanation and are being denied access to their space. This isn't the first time an indie dance venue has been suddenly closed in the Spanish Quarter - anyone remember when The Spanish Club got shut down from having music when someone realised they didn't actually have an entertainment license? Perhaps this is the same deal, and maybe La Campagna just happens to be a Spanish restaurant with a dance floor.

Whatever the story is behind GoodGod's sudden closure (and whether or not it's permanent - hopefully not), it makes Sydney look like a backwards nanny state - if the movement is away from DIY venues trying new things and towards superclubs that force you to give your biometrics.

To put in perspective how backwards Sydney's licensing laws are, read this article from the Toronto Star - a great city where they have no problem with restaurants having dancefloors and DJs, just as long as the venues serve enough food for a light snack and stop serving booze at 2am.

Who knows when GoodGod will be back - but hopefully this isn't the end of the small club phenomenon in the harbour city.

After the closing of the Hopetoun and countless other venues, yet another Sydney music institution is under threat from gentrification and developers: the Abercrombie Hotel.

Arguably the smelliest dance floor in the state, the Abercrombie was nothing but an ugly, under-utilised "old mans drinking" facility of the six o'clock swill age, attached to the site of a former inner city brewery and on a very busy street corner - Abercrombie and Broadway.

It was however in a great location for students, literally just across the street from the University of Technology and down the road from the Uni of Sydney. Being on a main intersection also meant it could trade late into the night. It wasn't long until promoters discovered this smelly, nostalgic dive bar and turned into a hipster dance hangout - and it started with niche electronic music parties.

The Foreign Dub DNBBQ crew were the first guys to seize this grungey smelly den for one of their all-day, all-night jungle-music-and-cooked-meat-athons (sometime around 2001 I'm guessing), bringing in crowds to dance the night away in the carpeted bar and the outside beer garden (and of course to try and navigate between the two via the incredible small single staircase). Uber Lingua's world music fiestas soon followed, as did the anti-establishment performance night Creative Dissent.

But the Abercrombie remains synonymous with one night: Purple Sneakers. Named after a You Am I song and with a lineup generally stretching around the block, the sneakers became Sydney's see-and-be-seen Friday night for the Strokes/Franz indie uni student generation, getting to the point where wanker celebrities like Andrew Stockdale from Wolfmother were turning up to hang out, non-professional DJs like Chris Taylor from The Chaser came to spin tunes, local bands did DJ sets, record companies launched albums and many, many drunken pick ups took place. It's not much of a stretch to say that for indie kids, there really is nowhere else to go out late on a Friday night in Sin City.

Being down the street from my work means I've hung out at The Abercrombie far more than I should have for someone with a full time job, and looking back it was more than a venue, but rather a microcosm of my whole sordid twenties. At the Abercrombie I've kissed girls, reunited with old friends, cried my heart out, performed slam poetry, thrown up in the bathroom, danced like a crazy man to The Who at dawn, been ushered into a VIP room during a police shut down and been called a "good lookin' man" at the bar by Aussie rock legend Tim Rogers. We even had a work Christmas party there once, complete with professional decorations (but still the same godawful stench mix of sweat, beer, piss and puke).

Hopefully the Abercrombie will be back - with a new, less smelly carpet. Until then, Sydney seems to have run out of dodgy old man pubs for hipsters to reclaim for dance parties. What are we to do?