It had been some time since I’d been to Sounds on Sunday, so heading there last Sunday, immediately after the 20/20 cricket at North Sydney Oval made perfect sense. Regrettably, everyone had the same idea, and on arriving we were greeted with a queue of no less than 30 metres, and a swarming mass of tune loving punters. We left without entering, but with no doubt that the Greenwood was alive and kicking, and a desire to return as soon as possible. Cue Tom Middleton, a leviathan in the musical cosmos of house. With a solid repertoire of remixes, including Coldplay, Faithless and Royksopp, even a trance addict had to be involved.

We arrived at the Greenwood around 5.30pm, with ample time to check out all on offer, and were immediately delighted to spy a plethora of Sydney’s nubile delights, all jiving away relentlessly to Bootleggers. Some things never change, thank the clubbing lord! Being (starved) trance lovers, we headed straight to the chapel where Jumping Jack was strutting his stuff. And how. It’s a mutually agreed fact that the chapel is THE place for listening to trance, anywhere, and that, plus the astonishing, and pant wetting track selection from Jumping Jack had us dancing, hands in the air, in no time. An hour later, and anyone would have thought the place was a munitions dump, such was the sheer number of bombs that Jumping Jack had churned out. Relentless is it’s uplift, umatched in its dance-ability, Jumping Jack’s set was nothing short of sublime. I left the chapel reluctantly around 6.50, eager to see what Middleton was all about, confident, on his resume alone, that he could deliver.

7pm came, and the fracas began. No Tom; Bootleggers holding it all together, and driving the crowd along with a scungey remake of Sander Kleinenberg’s, “The Fruit”. 7.20pm and Middleton took the stage. Surely he’d make up for it with a relentless 2hrs of searing house? Tom dropped a couple of nice tracks to begin with, including Steve Mac’s (feat Steve Smith) “Lovin’ You More”, Gorillaz, “Dare” and Tomas Andersson’s instrumental “Washing Machine” (why bother playing it without the vocal, after all, the tune is the vocal), with the mandatory, Roman Flugel “Geht’s Noch” mixed over the top. Nice tunes, if not a little overplayed, the crowd enjoyed them all the same. Then, something happened.

Middleton all of sudden changed tack, and attempted to wind the crowd up by promising (I can’t remember his exact words) something “crazy, or funky”. For the next 20 minutes, commercial top 40 reigned supreme; including a disastrous remake of Destiny Child’s “Bootylicious”, which had most of the audience stunned rather than excited. It then got worse; way worse. I know Middleton proposed something different, but country and western? No! Not just one track, but at least 3, the second of which had our crew remixing Kenny Roger’s “The Gambler” into it, and the third, which rendered me in disbelief, until one of the aforementioned nubiles approached me, exclaiming “what the (insert expletive) is this”? The lovely young lass then mentioned she felt like doing the Buttercup, at which point I was finally moved to dance; a hoe down, much to the amusement of those around us. When I told the young filly that I was reviewing the gig, she asked, “what’s your Inthemix name”? When I replied “Stonkmaster”, she chuckled, “tonight, you’re the Honky Tonk Stonkmaster”! Sad, but appropriate, considering the fare. Still, it made for some light relief amongst the ensuing carnage.

It was at this point that I’d had enough, and decided to take a quick tour to see what others thought of the set. No need to wander far. Apart from the crazed few that bopped along regardless, and let’s be fair, they’d be having a good time in a phone booth; the Greenwood was a myriad of disinterested clubbers. Hands on hips, bemused looks, talking, sitting, anything but dancing, and anything but enjoying Middleton. “Back to the chapel”, I mused, where even Nik Fish at his disastrously over pounding best just had to be better than Middleton. I was right; Fish was good. At 8.30pm the chapel was overflowing with Fish belting it out solid and hard, providing even the hardened house fan with something decent to dance to. Fish fans, t-shirts and all, loved it, as did the resident “roid boys”, with even the odd (apparently house loving) Australian Rugby League star seen to give the resonating destruction a knowing smirk.

I did venture back out into the Courtyard towards 9pm, to see if Middleton had recovered, and at the same time, expected to see him play an additional 20 minutes to make up for his tardy entry. Not that I needed it after his earlier disaster, but I thought it fair to give him every chance to redeem himself. By that time the rain was belting down and the large crowd had jammed under every annex possible, providing Tom with the perfect opportunity to get people moving as one. Again, no. Right on 9pm, he dropped a feeble remix of Donna Summer’s epic, “I Feel Love”, and disappeared. On came Swank, who despite some early technical hitches had the crowd soon grooving and pashing to some of the sexiest house heard in some time. It may have been the romanticism of a fog ridden Sydney summer sky, the teeming rain, or more likely just sheer delight that Middleton had exited the building, suffice to say, there were more wagging tongues than at a Leichhardt dog training class on a Sunday morning!

11pm came too quickly and it was time to leave. We’d had a great time but for the main act, and left in no doubt that Sydney’s greatest party, and venue, were still rocking. At the same time, Sydney’s discerning stonkers sent a note to Tom Middleton. One good set doesn’t make a DJ. New Years Day must have been something decent to have Sounds on Sunday have Middleton return so soon, but what he delivered last Sunday was nothing short of, as they’d say in England, “having a giraffe”. Come on Tom, your resume speaks volumes; next time, do better!