If Melbourne's Bang were a feature film, the protagonist would be an angst ridden teen, Rage Against The Machine's 'Killing in The Name Of' would be at the top of the soundtrack, every second sentence would be censored, and the only time slot Channel 10 would give to the rerun would be in between frisky phone advertisements at 3am on an average weeknight.
The reality of one of Melbourne's most favoured underground 'emo' clubs is almost identical.
Although the club promotes itself primarily on 'underground' grunge-love tendencies, don't expect the venue to be difficult to locate.
A skank studded tetris taxi smorgasbord stretches metres long, but the sounds of head banging hotties carry far and wide.
Entry will cost $15 if you've never been before, which will then change to $10 after rubbing shoulders with the in-crowd, telling them that you loved their set list (even though the screams of self sufferance left your ears bleeding dry).
This small trick of the trade will leave you forever climbing the tower of guest list glory.
The entry price is steep, which is just one of the reasons why a trip to Bang implies a monogamous venue night, bar hopping after entry to Bang is very uncommon.
While the entry fee sets high expectations for those of us who are used to the free entry extravaganzas of Melbourne bars, Bang will rarely disappoint.
Don't be intimidated by the tattoo-heavy demographics of your surrounds.
Upon entrance societal tables are turned, and not having a tattoo seems just plain wrong.
The venue is large, with space only ever being an issue due to an abundance of attendees (which occurs weekly).
A large bar stretches halfway across the main room floor, with service offered from a myriad of angles.
A large blackboard displays drink specials for the evening, which more often than not offers a deal on Jager bombs- the favoured drink of drain pipe Jean emo kids.
A large stage is set far back, displaying the night's live entertainment.
Screamo, emo, punk or pop- the only prerequisite of performace at Bang is anger towards society.
Through what seems like an underground bypass, a long lengthy alley, otherwise known as the 'retro room' stretches down the entire length of the venue.
This secluded area provides the opportunity for newbies to feel a little more at home with the sweet sounds of Cindy Lauper and Joy Division (the dj, of course only spinning their most angst ridden tracks).
"I hate myself" - that's the spirit! Toilets conveniently lead off the retro room, it seems that the architect had cake-faced Christina's in mind whilst designing the venue.
A trip to the toot results in an hour long line up behind black headed bombshells applying their tenth layer of eyeliner for the evening.
Portion control? Something tells me these ladies consume more cosmetics than calories.
The outdoor courtyard provides a breath of fresh air, whilst enabling ear drums to momentarily recover from a stint in hell.
Tens of tattood twenty somethings puff into the star lit sky, while a corset clad teen sucks face with the boy to her left.
Ah, the romance.
If downstairs doesn't provide enough intensity, take the winding stairs one level up and find a room full of heavy metal heart throbs singing (or screaming, depending on where your loyalties lie) to their favourite screamo idols.
If The Beatles are as heavy as you go in terms of rock gods, then five minutes in you'll find the stairs looking more attractive than the Mohawk man making eyes at your bust line.