Michael Gudinski left us with a sense of hope the pulsing life of this glorious city might return

The sound hits you in the chest first. A blow to the sternum, then a fizzing in your ears, then the air around you palpably thickens as the drums and the bass find their place together.

The sound is heavy. It has weight and when it’s rock music played unrestrained by one of Australia’s greatest, it feels like someone has placed the electric pads on your chest and shocked you back into life, dammit.

Arena music is like nothing else. Bombastic, strutting and loud, loud. It’s meant to hurt a bit and drag you to your feet. And there was me, sitting, and I was only still in my seat because this was supposed to be an official state memorial service for a man just as bombastic and loud as the music Jimmy Barnes was cranking out, gone far too…