Easter is a special time of year. While Christmas celebrates a baby in a manger, with wrapped-up presents and inappropriate food for warm weather, there’s nothing that gets in the way of what Easter is really all about: chocolate. The other thing Easter has meant for this reviewer, at least for the past three to four years, is a seriously decadent edition of Marrickville’s favourite bowling club shindig Mad Racket.

But I’m getting ahead of myself here. My expectations for tonight were born two years ago, when I first saw Berlin DJ Tom Clark weave his magic at Alarm! As the highlight of tonight’s teutonically-dubbed ‘Ostern Schlager’, this was Clark’s fourth Racket appearance and, if my fading memory served me well, his presence was a special treat indeed alongside Sydney’s own Stick Figures, the Racket crew and several dozen strategically placed Easter eggs, hidden somewhere beneath the Bowling Club’s pressed copper ceiling.

We got there shortly before 11pm to find a small crowd drinking, chatting and catching up. The dancefloor was bare – no decorations, no fuss – so we grabbed a drink and sat down by the glow of one of their trademark scarlet egg shade candles. Jimmi James was playing a slow set – a bit disco, a bit house, a bit minimal –obviously a warm up for the night to come. Outside, a crowd started to form to sign in (a particularly Australian tradition and, after all, this was a bona fide bowling club) as mates started to make an appearance. By now the odd punter had started to shuffle across the dancefloor, slowing down as they walked across if they liked the beat, or speeding up if they didn’t. Testing the waters.

The pace picked up. By now Jimmi was really playing the mix, throwing in some Detroit, a Latin rhythm and really letting rip on the bass which tingled my arms, legs and made my beer froth. The floor, once filled with punters feeling their way around, started to pack out and organic rows and lines started to form. It was the mother of all warm ups, and a killer start for the Stick Figures who came on at the traditional guest DJ time of 1am. Comprised of locals Adam Maggs, Mike Ross and Dave Slade, had I not seen them in action over summer I’d have thought it was just another garage laptop group. And boy, would I have been wrong.

Seeing the trio this close, with the enthusiasm they each had, brought real magic to the dancefloor as punters yelped and cheered to every riff, bleep and squelch they fired off in sequence. Bird sounds slowly gave way to the drone of a siren, which then staccatoed across the floor in a shatter of glass before high hats kicked in and that bass, the deep, deep bass took flight. This was music you had to dance to, and if the smile on Dave Slade’s face was anything to go by, you knew they were really getting a kick playing it.

What seemed like 10 minutes lasted an hour – and by then the Stick Figures had built on the mother of all warm ups to bring in Tom Clark. Darker, melodic and with a punch you don’t usually hear at Racket, he played the minimal side of techno, the harder side of tech house and always, in every way, managed to stay outside classification. Layer upon layer of electronic bliss is one way a mate described it to me when we’d done. “Bloody good time,” were the words of another. The beauty of Clark’s music lies not so much in the way it seems to have evolved from one scene or another, but the way he always plays to the dancefloor. He always seems to find a new layer to warp and twist – and in doing so breathes new life into tracks you might have heard more than you care to remember. This was the vibe on the floor, and these people had a lot of chocolate to burn. Clark was more than happy to help, so as the music pushed harder, the crowd kept going. And going. And … you get the picture.

Which brings me back to my first point. Top notch music like this on Easter eve needs sustenance, or at Easter, chocolate. Behind me, a puzzled punter was clutching at a foil wrapper and munching away with two buddies at the chocolate egg they’d found tucked away near their jumpers, stashed there by the Berliner after he stepped off at about 6am.

What a nice touch.