We don’t really get to see enough of Recloose. You’d think the Detroit native, now settled in Auckland, would cross the ditch a lot more often than he does, so when he actually makes it here the moment’s all the more special. And so it was the other night as we arrived at a true Sydney Festival stalwart, the Beck’s Bar at the Hyde Park Barracks.

But I’m getting ahead of myself here. I should disclose that, traditionally for this reviewer, the last night of the festival has always had a touch of magic to it thanks to the input from Mad Racket. Legendary artists like Louie Austen, Hot Chip and Theo Parrish, among others, have graced the floor here over the years but the standout element every time has been bumping into people I haven’t seen all year – or in some cases years – on the dancefloor or in the crowd, united by their love of a good party. With old favourite Recloose headlining this year as part of the Hit it and Quit It Australian Revue I felt all the more certain this would be packed out with punters, with a small stampede for when they open the doors to all comers later in the evening.

It struck me that something was amiss, then, as we entered. No, it wasn’t the loved-up, deep bass tones emanating from the decks, nor Booker’s cheeky sampling. It wasn’t the astonishing video projection on the sandstone and convict brick walls of the Hyde Park Barracks. It was the space. There was room … so much of it that I had to notice it since we’d been there the past week for the sold out, packed out Severed Heads.

But different party, different crowd and in this case, a slow buildup. As we neared the dancefloor the clear highs gave way to muffling and distortion and we couldn’t work out why the sound was amiss. Before us a small, devoted crowd shuffled in front on the dancefloor while elsewhere – on tables, chairs and around the corner where there were no speakers – folks sat and caught up on the summer so far. It was a shame since Recloose was starting to cut in with some deep Detroit goodness, interspersed by their peak hat-clad vocalist Mara TK, whose gutsy, soulful voice added life and character to sound which was getting more distorted by the minute. We grabbed a drink and moved off into the crowd where, as tradition goes, we bumped into a couple of absent friends. It seemed like most punters were away from the dancefloor so they could talk – and they looked like they were enjoying it.

More beers, more bumping into people, and by 11.30pm all that space began to dry up. The main act was meant to have wrapped up by now but the boys weren’t showing any signs of stopping. Outside, a long line snaked around to the statue of Prince Albert while inside, we finally had critical mass for some serious partying. It was the last day of the festival, the last night of the Beck’s Bar, and tonight it seems that overshadowed the party and survived amid the sound bungles.

And Recloose was in town, so that made the whole thing pretty darn special.