In hip Gen Y heartland Flemington (well, maybe in the bowels of one's heartland) the transition of metal and punk cornered into tearing up dingy graffiti-trashed clubs to the mainstream is complete. The working-class rebellion is over.
The two-pronged attack from political correctness and economic rationalism starved the subculture of oxygen, corralling it into libidinous day-long expressions instead of steadfast lifestyle commitments -- 'til death or follicular necrosis. Mohawked metalheads sip lattes in cramped wood-panelled cafes incongruously named "Pepper" and "Monkey Tricycle" alongside urban professionals and retired graphic designers. Smartphones replace zippo lighters as rock show accoutrement du jour. The Big Day Out, as Andrew noted in his Brisbane review is no longer the heavy fans' festival.