Norway. Home of fjords, glaciers, obscenely priced vodka and some of disco’s finest new exports. In the past few years Lindstrom, Prins Thomas and Todd Terje have carved a niche for themselves in the dance music world, producing funky disco treats the likes of which have not been seen since the 1970s. Indeed, a night in their presence incites the desire to don some flares and glitter platforms. Just a few weeks ago Holy Ghost! won me over when they opened their Toff set with Terje’s sonorous remix of Lindstrom’s Another Station. So it was with a girly squeal of delight that I discovered Terje himself would be gracing our scorching shores so soon after. Apparently his set at Revolver last year was off the hook, and having immersed myself in his re-edits and remixes for the past week I was all revved up for a fix of some bonafide Friday night fever.

We arrived at La Di Da at 12.30am and the place was pleasantly full, but not packed – plenty of room to pull out the box step on the dancefloor. There was still time to have a sneaky cigarette before the main man started, but to my surprise it was hotter outside than indoors. Props to La Di Da for boasting one of the best air-con systems in Melbourne, but the covered outdoor courtyard really does traps the heat and smoke. We returned to the cool confines of the club to catch the maestro begin to work his magic. Pale and typically Nordic-looking with blonde hair and blue eyes, Terje is quite the cute boy-next-door. Occupying quite a reserved position behind the decks, Terje rarely gave away any emotion throughout the night, and failed to so much as shuffle a foot or raise a hand for the entirety of his set. Thankfully, the enthusiasm that seemed contained in his fingers translated well through the speakers, and by the end of the first track he’d managed to set the floor on fire.

Funk oozed from the vinyl as Terje dropped the 70s inspired soulful grooves for which he’s become known. His edit of Chic’s I Want Your Love got hips swinging and set the Motown disco tone that characterised the first half of his set. I felt like I was in a scene from Boogie Nights, sans vintage attire. In what may or may not have been a sly nod to Terje’s anchor tattoo, one cool cat was all decked out in sailor hat, with denim cut offs and – best of all – roller skates. Up for it in every way, the crowd – which included Cut Copy frontman Dan Whitford, the former owner of Honkytonks/3rd Class and various other Melbourne clubbing cognoscenti – were clearly loving what they were hearing. Unable to contain myself any longer, I did the detestable – a song request. In my defense, it was Terje’s own remix of Another Station that I asked for, and supporting DJ Luke McD assured me that if you’re requesting the artist’s own work, it’s more a compliment than a pain in the ass. In any case, the bashful Terje was happy to oblige before descending into darker, techier territory.

To his credit, everything he played was eminently danceable – from a funked-up rework of Shame, Shame, Shame to laid-back, Balearic beats and tough yet melodic techno. At 5am, one hour after he was due to finish, Terje was going nowhere. Luke McD was due to follow Terje at 4am and I asked when he expected to take his turn. Luke shrugged and declared that he was more than happy to let Terje continue on doing his thing as he was doing a great job of it. I had to concur, and so did the crowd. In spite of himself, Terje’s mere presence behind the decks four hours after commencing his set seemed to indicate that maybe, just maybe, he was having just as good a time as we were.