A freelance writer and musician based in Brisbane.
Published March 21st 2012
The quiet of a Thursday afternoon sweeps you gently off your feet and you forget for a moment that you will soon be subjecting your eardrums to the harsh cataclysms of live music. Thank God work is nearly over for another week, you think to yourself triumphantly. The working week was never meant for you, you were always destined for greater things, how can you be expected to be even slightly productive when the repetition of one 8 hour day after another drags your mind into the sublime slumber of routine?
Stuff it!" you shout as if to anyone listening, "I'm going out tonight, for once I am actually going to go out, follow up on my word." You stretch some over-tight jeans over your expanding thighs and put your head through the armhole of an old torn t-shirt, all the while brushing your teeth and talking to some friends on the phone. "Come on John..." you plead, "it'll be fun I promise." Should you be promising something which only a moment ago you were unsure of yourself? Hell, why not!
You get to the door and there is a line up going halfway around the block. People sitting outside are celebrating, pouring pale ale from the green capped tallies that you can't buy at any other pub in Brisbane. "Six dollars!" you hear one blusterous patron exclaim. "Six dollars for a tally of coopers. @$%# me!" Once inside you look around and espy John ordering pizza at the counter and you wonder who is playing tonight. Judging by the crowd and what John is wearing, you assume that punk is not so dead after all. A rush of excitement fills your body. This is going to be different, exciting, outrageous. It certainly, if nothing else, is going to be a lot better than sitting on the couch watching "Please Marry My Boy," wait that's on Wednesday.
Outside again, the pizza now warmly tucked away in your stomach, you hear the first ear shattering blast of guitars. Panic fills your head and your eyes begin to water, "Was this really such a great idea?" you think aloud. Then the music begins to play and mesmerising waltzes, lilting melodies and plain danceable tunes all flow effortlessly through your psyche. You are a convert, this isn't "Sex Pistol's" punk or "The Nips" brief interlude at musical bourgeois, it's something different, exciting and warm.
After the show, you run up to the bar lady and sycophantically pour out kind words about the establishment. You tell her that you really enjoyed the show and that it was so great to be able to enjoy good music in such a comfortable and warm environment. You tell her that you will be back next Thursday and the one following, you tell her that you will tell everyone you know about her pub. She smiles knowingly.
My fondest memory of The Joynt also happens to be my first time there. Was seated out front in the dead of winter and dressed completely unprepared for the swiftly dropping temperatures. Jodi personally came out and gave me a jumper pilfered from lost and found and made sure I was comfortable. It's service like that, little touches, that makes one eager to return. I can't recommend The Joynt highly enough.