Cult. Circuit #002: Over The Underground.
When was the last time you saw live music? Maybe it was a concert, a local gig or even a busker on the street. Sydney, from the Inner West and Northern Beaches to the Blue Mountains, hums every weekend with live music in venues you may have walked past a hundred times without noticing.
I’m trying to tap into the perspective I had before I started going to gigs. Around 2021, coming out of lockdown, I hadn’t found a gateway into live music, and it simply wasn’t something I thought about. It only took seeing a few friends play in their bands and stumbling across a handful of local acts that caught my attention for a completely new world to open up.
It’s easy to write for people who already love gigs, but I wanted to write this for my past self: cynical, a little guarded, and someone who probably wouldn’t have dived in if my friends hadn’t pushed me. For that, I’m incredibly grateful. This is a snapshot of how reframing what we think of as “the underground” changed the way I experience Sydney, because I don’t think it’s beneath the surface at all. I think it’s been around us the whole time. You just have to know where to look.
It’s pretty common, and more than a little cliché, to hear Sydney’s live music scene described as “the underground”. That term comes with its own historical and cultural baggage, along with plenty of gatekeepers ready to tell you that a band is “too big to be underground now”. But the phrase has stuck around because, in my opinion:
A) It refers to culture and art existing outside the mainstream.
B) Many smaller venues embrace a raw, DIY, punk-inspired aesthetic.
C) Some of Sydney’s most iconic live music venues, like Oxford Art Factory, are literally underground.
It’s hard to argue with the term. It conjures the image of a hidden society quietly existing beneath the predictable rhythm of everyday life while everyone else rushes from one obligation to the next. As I said, it’s cliché.
I want to reframe that view, partly because it needs it and partly because I’m a desperate contrarian. To me, “underground” suggests something hidden, exclusive or lesser. That hasn’t been my experience at all.
The live scene transforms your favourite bar, local venue or neighbourhood stage into a room full of people there for exactly the same reason. Loud or quiet, heavy or gentle, whatever the genre, there’s a shared excitement that makes every space feel different.
What many people call “the underground” often exists in plain sight. You walk past it, see a poster on a wall or scroll past a gig announcement on Instagram, and file it away as something that’s for somebody else.
The live scene swaps your telescope for a kaleidoscope.
Suddenly, familiar places become something entirely different. Faces blur together beneath coloured lights. Friends become strangers, become friends again. Music fills spaces you’ve walked through countless times before and makes them feel completely new. “Underground” is still its name, and I’m certainly not trying to rewrite decades of alternative music culture, but it’s always sounded like a wet-blanket euphemism to me. It’s abstract in the same way you can’t really describe a flavour to someone who hasn’t tasted it.
The best thing I can do is recommend a place to start.
THE CIRCUIT
Get some space!
GoodSpace Gallery.
Located above The Lord Gladstone Hotel, just a short walk from Central Station, Goodspace Gallery hosts regular gigs spanning folk, jazz, punk, avant-garde, hardcore and just about everything in between. Downstairs, The Glady itself continues the tradition with everything from egg punk to blues.
One of my favourite things about the scene is seeing the band who just finished playing standing front and centre in the crowd for the next act. A community that often starts with a handful of friends coming to support someone they know slowly grows into intersecting circles of musicians, artists and regulars, all connected through different venues, sounds and stories.
This isn’t a scene to observe from a distance or ask, “What are the kids up to these days?” It’s genuinely open to anyone willing to turn up with an open mind and, more importantly, open ears.
(Earplugs recommended.)
Local Heat!
Fire Spinners.
Live culture extends well beyond music.
On a Friday evening in Newtown, you’ve probably noticed buskers gathered near the station entrance, their music drifting down King Street. Walk a little further into Camperdown Memorial Rest Park and, if you time it right, you’ll find the Newtown Fire Jam: a free, community-driven monthly gathering of fire twirlers, flow artists and LED performers.
It’s one of those uniquely Sydney moments that feels both completely unexpected and perfectly at home.
Lend me your ears, not your beers
Human Poetry Collective.
Live endeavours seem to be popping up everywhere I look nowadays. The Human Poetry Collective, a small crew of artists that hosts austere poetry readings in Sydney’s West, started this year, and is definitely something to check out if you’re into a low-key or introspective vibe. Individual speakers, soft, mellow performances by local musicians, and often run in alcohol-free environments, The Sydney Poetry Collective delivers the late-night community experience without the usual caveats – loud noise, crowds, or vices.
An irrevocable staple of youth culture, live gatherings and events are a crucial social glue for young people from all corners looking for new communities, exploring subcultures, trying new things, and becoming a more rounded-out and interesting person – not that there’s ANYTHING wrong with enjoying art, culture and community from the comfort of your own home.
The miracles of electricity, live broadcasting, and innovations in couch and mattress comfort have enabled anyone, from anywhere (granted they have an internet connection), to enjoy it. But some of these gigs that are out there, happening this weekend, you really have to see to believe.
