When I was growing up, my mother used to chide me for asking for chips with sauce on the side. ‘Put the sauce on them,’ she’d say with disdain, before I’d sneak off and squirt some into a bit of paper next to them. I just didn’t like the sauce everywhere, the messy hands, and found sauce on the side much more fun. But this is a music review, not chip nostalgia, although seeing Tom Findlay, the tousled-brown hair, unshaven half of Groove Armada brought back a few chip memories.

I’ll start by saying that old Sydney jazz haunt, The Basement, probably hasn’t seen a knees-up of the sort that took place at A Bit on the Side. The idea is novel: take a respected electronic artist, place them somewhere unexpected and out of the way, elevate them ever so slightly above the crowd on a small stage and let the music take centre space.

Sound for the night was appropriately beefed up, and the place had a speakeasy feel with its low lighting used to full effect, dark wood, bar stools and framed history garnishing its walls. The venue’s three main bars (including the never-changing Blue Note Bar) were all heaving with the older, smartly-dressed crowd, who sipped on bottled beers and little drinks with fruit. Everyone wore a smile on their face, and the atmosphere was very non-dance party – which was the idea, according to the party paraphernalia.

First up was Meem, a tall, gentle, dreadlocked man from Sydney’s Blue Mountains and always one of my favourites with his measured bleeps, deep squelches and sampled mayhem. On a slower tip, he played a smooth set of old disco, Philly soul and minimal which got the small crowd on the dance floor quite emotional, with lots of hugging and slow hip-grinding, though it was little past 10pm.

Slated to play at 11.30pm was Fuzzy head honcho Jonathan Wall. As the man behind A Bit on the Side, and responsible many of Sydney’s premier dance events, he has the coveted position of warming-up for whomever he likes at his parties, and took that opportunity to play before Tom who was on at 1am. True to the venue’s less-electronic roots, he started with bluegrass, which whipped up the crowd up to some effect as lemon-tipped Coronas started appearing and thighs were slapped.

This moved to Afro-Cuban, and for a moment if you squinted you could think you were in Havana, so suited were the tunes to the Basement’s vibe. The only thing missing was the haze of cigarette smoke, which annoyed some punters but which most would have been grateful for.

Then the funk started. Cue Saturday, a track I don’t mind too much but which has received some awful overplaying, followed by a remix of Suck My Kiss and a host of others, bringing in breaks, electro and that hybrid genre, mash-up. It was all getting a bit much for this reporter, so I retired to the back bar for a quick shandy before hearing Rock the Kasbah. I found a seat.

We all love a man with seven inches. But get that filth out of your mind dear reader, I mean 7” records, and Tom’s entrée, the Sugarhill Gang’s Clap Your Hands could not have been more appropriate. Playing from a stack of the little critters he built the vibe up through layers of slower, disco-electro tinged tracks, scratching them in in places, while blending in others and dropping in some.

The floor quickly filled, eyes looked glazed over and sweat started to drip from the ceiling. Whatever illusions I might have had about the bar resembling old Havana quickly evaporated, as tick-tick house beats wafted through the mix and punters started smiling, grinning, chewing and letting their arms fly. The sound system kicked up a notch and by the time he played Make Love (Listen to the Music) I was certainly feeling the love, or was that a grinning Meem stepping on my foot? The latter it seemed. Not to worry, his set rocked.

All in all, A Bit on the Side was exactly that: a chance to hear respected DJs play music they normally wouldn’t, in a venue not normally used by dance parties. And like chips with sauce on the side, it’s a sort of halfway between having all of your fun – then paying for it – or just dipping into it.

And there’s nothing wrong with that. If only mum would believe me.