Friday night, George Street, Sydney. German 6 packs and Coopers longnecks on the ground. Josh, Chris and I are leant against a wooden construction door, waiting. The dolled-up party crowds are starting to thicken on the footpaths around us, ready for their new chance to 'paint the town red'. The drummer, Tom, arrives, welcoming us through the wooden door into the unfamiliar darkness beyond. We stop in the expectedly hip office on the first floor, searching for, then creating, a makeshift pick. Once armed, we start the ascent. The remaining 8 floors are empty, abandoned. Office space unutilised, unpowered, unoccupied. The building, apparently, is nearing its expiry. Waiting to be gutted, and built over the top of. Wrapped in fairy lights, an extension cord runs up the centre of the stairwell. The only power supply available at the roof, wrapped in the only light source for the rest of the building.
On the rooftop, a room awaits, a single worklight looped over the empty light fixture. 2 guitars and a drum kit, surrounded by a sea of leads, splintered drumsticks, woodchips and empty beer bottles. Beers opened, the room is enveloped by sound.