The Clare Hotel is an interesting venue. Renovated with old and tatty in mind, the retro couches and cathedralesque gents are reminiscent of a time now gone… a better time. Dust Tones rolled up on Saturday night, the decks on a pool table and such classics as ‘Breakin’ and ‘Beat Street’ playing on the big screen.

The crowd was diverse. Earlier the drinkers were a balanced blend of sparkly bonhomie and inner city flash. It starts quiet and relaxed, the couches filling with chatting groups all kicking back. Somatik got on at ten and mixed in some soft funk with a house edge. The crowd began to swell and those that couldn’t sit couldn’t help but dance. Mel Gibson was overseeing on a bar TV and in a sweet twist it seemed Somatik knew what women wanted.

The dancing ebbed and flowed, not so much like the ocean as like the miraculous result achievable with Rogaine, from near oblivion to something bushy and playful. This was particularly obvious in the number of neck ties being sported, no shirts on the scene. Noel Boogie and Noodles were up next with a very different sound. Alternating, scratching, bringing in ragga and old school, rhythmics and melodics. This pub turns in to a NIGHT.

Funk seeps in: ‘Is that George Clinton?’ which is my invitation to try out my special funk dance. The lady I deployed this on came down with an unfortunate headache which was interesting because normally this doesn’t happen till stage three of my funk dance, the Breakdown Boogaloo. I wasn’t to be dissuaded however and the DJs backed me up with some classic tracks.

The singular harmony of people that Sydney produces was enjoying themselves and by the time Defcon1 came on the place was jumping. He closed out the night, and perhaps his time on the decks, with his trademark panache. Good venue, good crowd, nice couches, great music and beautiful people. What more can you ask for.