The Yarra River in Melbourne. Once a proudly brown stretch of running bilge, now looking a lot healthier. Probably a city divide most keenly felt by musicians who were active in the 20th century. Yes, once south of the river was where all the shows and cabarets were. Where the Musicians Union itself was (is?) located. And a handy place to get a drink after hours in the early 80s when everything shut at 10pm.

Last year, when Nick Cave drove himself to the radio show I do with Elizabeth McCarthy on RRR in East Brunswick (Banana Lounge Broadcasting, every Tuesday at noon), he confessed he had to use his GPS as he was in a foreign country north of the river. Same with Chris Stockley, guitarist from the Dingoes, from a generation who set forth on the bandstands a decade earlier. North of the river was not where it was once at. It was not on their maps. The city in their minds.

I myself was a SOUTH OF THE RIVER type who finally had to be dragged towards Sydney Rd in the early 90s. I had never been that far north as I thought it was full of hippies. (That’s what I’d heard, is my only defence). I went as far as the very beginning of Sydney Rd and considered journeying any further into the hinterland as a complete folly. Only barbarians, dense delinquent undergrowth and strangely numbered trams would be ahead, surely! Occasionally, a drive to Sydney would require a trip down that road. Just like the outer edges of Parramatta Rd coming into Sin City at the other end, it was a parade of car yards, lighting warehouses and what looked to be their attendant brothels for miles. Luckily we were usually hungover or drunk and found ourselves much more interesting than anything the outside world could offer.

Now, decades later, the worm has turned. Almost all live music in clubs and pubs happens north of the river. Indie acts tremble at the thought of crossing over to the other side. There are very few venues if they ever decide to do so and most importantly, no audience interested in attending that sort of an interior for that sort of a racket. So we are led to believe. They have simply lost the proverbial vibe. Rock musician! The caravan has moved on and the dogs are pissin’ on yer swag!

Of course, there are some venues like Pure Pop which is behind a record shop and like a cute folk club in ambience. It attracts a particular clientele of old school south of the river freaks. Niche as all hell. It also gets occasionally raided by tribes of wandering backpackers. St Kilda is like that. It’s always had incredible “walk past” and “walk up” crowds. Now they’re walking past with coins jangling in their pockets. Great place to have a bar.

As to venues there’s also the Greyhound which until recently was the last bastion of grimy never-say-die rootless and toothless south of the river rock’n’roll. Not my cup of tea really, though I grew up around that kind of milieu, for real. Then I grew out of it. The Greyhound was refurbished and is now a super duper Gay Venue which packs hundreds of party people into it every weekend. Needless to say, the old crowd were grumbling somewhere out there. The hotel opened up a room at the front for live music on the days when the drag room was dark. I did a gig with my band there and it was great. Totally deluxe gear and fittings and the people were excellent to work with. I mean, they had all the noblesse oblige of landed gentry who were sitting on a place that was paying off and set to do so for a long time in advance. Hopefully the live music will continue.

Then there’s the Esplanade which has such a great location overlooking the bay and has long been a music venue, having survived having a much larger building land on top and over it to primp itself on TV as the location for “Rockwiz”.

Down the road, and like the Greyhound of recent months, the Prince of Wales used to have a drag show called “POKEYS” for many years and it was the main business for what became the big band room. Initially, rock music was a little bit of activity on the side of an enormously happening meeting of underworlds. The dressing room was full of the drag costumes and had lights around the big mirrors like a real showbiz joint. Later, the music took over the whole building with several different sized bars all pumping out the sounds. Much more of a home for South of the river freakiness than the Esplanade.

I caught some young acts from South of the River. They all had a very odd 80s fetish and generally a very studied rock’n’roll look. Lite metal, kind of trashy goth glam aesthetic. They would not fly easily over the other side of town – perhaps as anachronistic throwbacks. They could be hip for being so badly out of time. Exotic even. South of the River in general is quite relaxing for being a Hipster Free Zone. Xanadouche is across town.

And across the river? Well there’s the Old Bar, Bar Open, Yah Yahs (on Smith Street where it is surrounded by half a dozen other music venues), The Evelyn, (again several other bars on Brunswick street), The Corner, The Northcote Social Club, Bar 301, the Phoenix, the Edinburgh Castle, the Tote, the Toff in Town, the Workers Club, the Metro, the Hi Fi, Billboard, Bennetts Lane and many, many, many more. What happened?

A few weeks out from my South of the River afternoon and I’m in a hushed bar in Fitzroy, listening to a geeky guy in extra casual clothes fingerpicking an expensive looking acoustic which he has put through a beautiful Fender twin amp. The songs are slow and considered and nuanced and no one talks. He takes an age both to tune and shuffle through his lyrics pages which he has on a music stand. He chats quietly to the audience as if they are old friends, which they probably are. Sounds lovely doesn’t it? I wonder to myself what the effect would be like if he was in that Prince bottom bar, how long would he last with this type of precious, self-conscious behaviour? Would they just make him cry before he even started? Would he rise to the occasion and for god’s sake speak up a bit or at least bring the tempo up four or five fold? I do enjoy his playing and the sound he gets is just great. It’s just so nice and polite.

That’s what Melbourne could do with actually, a good dose of South of the River saltiness. We’ve had enough of the douchetopia haven’t we?

Dave Graney