After walking up and down a derelict Crown Street for almost ten minutes trying to find the entrance, a vibrant, narrow staircase appears leading to a communal space that feels properly lived in.
Every square inch of wall is covered in eclectic illustration, band setlists, poetry or postmodern photography. One torn piece of paper adorning a windowsill simply reads ‘I ATE BAD SUSHI’, another ‘I MISS YOU’.
Society City is a third space in Wollongong, a place outside of home and work where you can make friends, read books, play music, create zines and have a drink. Unlike cafes or pubs, there is no obligation to buy anything.
Venue manager Josh Shimmen calls the volunteer-run co-op a ‘home away from home’.
“I’ve had people networking here, I’ve had people start businesses out of here, I’ve had musicians meet and start bands, and I think that’s what it truly is. It’s a place to meet like-minded people that’s not a bar,” Mr Shimmen said.
Image: Society City
Society City is known for its diverse music events featuring solo indie-pop acts, hardcore troupes, and everything in-between. With a capacity of just 55 people, live music here is often an intimate affair.
Mr Shimmen said his venue helps legitimise emerging musicians as a live act.
He wants artists of all experience levels to get comfortable performing in front of a crowd.
“I’ve had 13-year-olds in here play. They can play to their family, play to their friends. It feels like a gig. It’s professionally done,” he said.
“They get that kind of legitimisation of, ‘well, I can do this. It’s actually not that hard’.”
Unfortunately for musicians and fans across the country, these small venues, crucial spaces of development and audience connection, are collapsing at an alarming rate.
Over 1,300 venues have closed in Australia since the pandemic started, including 551 in New South Wales and 256 in Victoria.
It seems like every week there’s a new announcement of a culturally significant music hotspot closing its doors.
Last week it was the Agincourt Hotel in Sydney’s CBD, with its new owners pulling the plug on all live music.
Last year, one of Australia’s oldest venues, The Zoo in Fortitude Valley, was shut down due to cost-of-living pressures.
It was an enormous loss for the Brisbane music scene, and now in 2025, neighbours The Bearded Lady and It’s Still a Secret are facing the same fate.
It’s a similar story in northern Queensland, with independent venue Elixir Music House in Cairns surviving on generous crowdfunding.
Meanwhile, Hobart’s Uni Bar has shuttered to make way for STEM facilities, and Adelaide’s West Thebarton has been demolished for a highway.
Frontwoman of Sydney rock band Vermanic, Tash Brabant, shared that one of her favourite music memories was performing an acoustic set at The Great Club in Marrickville. Shortly after, she was back there watching punk outfit C.O.F.F.I.N, speaking highly about its electric atmosphere.
A week later, the venue’s manager suddenly stepped down after failed negotiations with landlords, and the local institution was closed permanently.
Noise complaints from neighbours led to litigation in the last twelve months of the club’s existence. A community fundraiser helped with an estimated $20,000 in legal fees.
Image: Vermanic performing at The Chippo Hotel, February 2025. Fleabag Photography
Ms Brabant said small shows represent an opportunity for her band to connect with new fans and strengthen relationships with other musicians.
“When you’re playing a gig at a small venue with a few other bands, there may not the be biggest crowd, but there’s a real connection between all the musicians,” she said.
“We all support each other by watching everyone’s sets and dancing along.”
Ms Brabant has felt disheartened as an emerging musician to see yet another local music hotspot succumb to archaic community noise regulations.
Alcohol is overwhelmingly the biggest income stream for music venues, with live music often operating on a slim profit.
Venue managers are finding it difficult to keep the lights on when community spending on alcohol has declined significantly, with reports of a decline in up to 30 per cent at some venues.
Iconic Perth venue The Bird, which has nurtured household names like Tame Impala, Stella Donnelly and Spacey Jane, has had to rely on community donations to stay open.
Speaking to WA Today, manager Kabir Ramasary said that he wished the industry was not so reliant on alcohol, but rising costs for audio technicians, equipment maintenance, event marketing and security limit the options.
“On the one hand, we are sharing a beautiful art form, on the other we are telling people they must drink if it is to survive,” he said.
“The 18–25 group just don’t have that much money, so they have to choose what they do, and they are doing other things, like going to big concerts.”
According to a Creative Australia report released earlier this year, fewer people are going to small pubs and clubs for live music, compared to 2019, but the same amount are attending major venues and stadiums.
In the last year, 33 per cent of Australians watched live music at a major venue, compared to 25 per cent at a pub or club.
Global culture defining concert experiences like Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour and Coldplay’s Music of the Spheres Tour have contributed to this post-pandemic boom for stadium attendance.
Survey participants have described themselves as “actively engaged” in their local scene, with another 40 per cent claiming they were uninterested because of the talent on offer.
The price of concert tickets, food and drink at venues, on top of transport to get there, were also among the biggest concerns.
Society City has hosted a pay-what-you-can gig by hardcore band Takoba, that was also all-ages—a rare event in Wollongong.
Mr Shimmen said hosting younger fans lets them develop a sense of solace and passion for a type of music that doesn’t usually cater for fledgling audiences.
“You walk into a hardcore show and see 15, 16-year-olds who are in here at a show rather than out there doing stupid shit—that’s what it’s all about,” Mr Shimmen said.
“If you give them the space to come to, you allow them to be their own person in that space.”