As if it wasn’t enough to pump our calves in the bleating rain and ferocious wind for the entire day at Good Vibrations Festival. As if it wasn’t enough to bask in the sonic perfection of so many king-hit acts like Basement Jaxx, Armand van Helden, Busta Rhymes and Plump DJs.

No. We, the die-hard dance junkies, needed more. And Chinese Laundry provided, with the Official Good Vibrations After Party, presented by Club Club.

From that initial descent down a back-alley stairway towards the front entrance, Chinese Laundry generates the hardcore underground atmosphere that dance junkies crave.

The prized entryway appears to be nothing more than the derelict opening to an abandoned warehouse, nestled uncomfortably beside a roaring freeway and overpass. Despite having one of the most frequently advertised and well-deserved reputations in the Sydney club scene, the venue projects itself as secretive, unknown, underground.

Once inside, the two downstairs dance floors maintain this carefully constructed theme of clandestine clubbing. Both have the appearance of subterranean caves, and they each shove the unruly masses onto the cramped dance space like clothes in a washing machine, earning them the appropriate titles of The Cave and The Laundry.

The Cave witnessed the speaker-bending explosions and musical reverberations of the UK’s Dave Seaman. His four-hour display of electronic wizardry set the standard for the night’s festivities. Progressive house never sounded so shattering.

Except, perhaps, when it was emanating from the decks of Dutch DJ/producer Chuckie and the sound system of The Laundry. Chuckie’s set earned the craziest crowd responses and the sweatiest congregation of filthy post-festival beat fanatics.

The crowd’s ears pricked noticeably when this devilish musical ace spun a pumping rendition of We Don’t Care, from the album Ego War (the debut masterpiece from British electronic duo Audio Bullys). As Chuckie caressed his decks like the most delicate of lovers, his crowd was elevated frantically into the song’s rhythms by his musical lieutenant MC Ambush, and together they produced enough energy to start a riot.

Those who could no longer withstand this sardine-tin sub-level intensity were able to escape the perpetual mist of perspiration and inhale some life-giving oxygen at the (infinitely more spacious) upper level Sand Bar, and its adjoining beer garden.

While the upstairs mood was borderline docile, the beats were nevertheless enchantingly sublime. Nimble-fingered American DJ Craze displayed those precisely tuned technical skills which won him the sacrosanct DMC World Championships on three consecutive occasions.

Overall, it was the labyrinthine multi-room recipe of the club which hooked our interest, because it allowed for a mixture of varied spices in this musical pot roast, and provided dance junkies with flavours from global dance meccas as disparate as Holland, Britain and America. Bon appetit.