On a weekend where his hometown of Sao Paulo had descended into Carnaval madness, Gui Boratto instead decided to ascend the elevators to Roxanne Parlour to be greeted by a furnace of sweaty revelers.

Although his name is colossal in the techno world, last Friday night was one of bittersweet compromises for those who attended. Having the legendary duo, Orbital playing live across road and Steve Lawler and Mark Farina spinning tracks elsewhere around town, Melbourne had an embarrassment of riches that it’s not usually accustomed to. Attending this party over another probably was not a decision taken lightly for a lot of people.

Before the Brazilian was to prove his mettle, Mike Callander, the local behind the newly-born Haul Records, showcased his own labels productions for its launch. Tracks like Craig McWhinney’s Remix of Adrian Miles’ “Gorel” and his own original, “Lost”, warmed the place up, which already felt like a second-storey bedroom on a hot summer’s day.

Waiting 45 minutes after his expected set time, being seen in the smoking room and casually hanging about the bar, the main man casually decided to embark. Changing the tone from Callander’s set, Gui created an ethereal journey through his discography. His spray-can white noises and warm deep tones sent a wave of harmony over the place, which before felt chaotic and packed. With the place shrouded in blackness with a wall of dotted lights Roxanne took on the aura of a spaceship that was about launch into orbit- Gui was our Kirk.

Sailing off first with the more understated “Azzurra”, off his recent opus Take My Breathe Away, you become aware that his first priority isn’t playing club music for you to dance to, rather playing beautiful music for you to dance to. As a self-proclaimed composer/producer (not a DJ), it turned from a clubbing experience to a more musically-focused one. This distinction seemed responsible in shifting the crowd from a squashed rabble to a grooving collective.

In the same cool fashion as his Radio 1 Essential Mix almost a year ago, he reeled off his all his classics from Chromophobia in a seamless weave. Incapable of sounding disjointed, he welded through his creations as if they were uniformed, rather than separate tracks on an album. “Arquipelago”, a track that steams like dry-ice, stood out, received with satisfied grins in this club-turned-sauna.

As the room sweltered through to 3.30, he rounded off his set with the pinnacle, “Beautiful Life”. An aptly beautiful track after such a glorious set made it easy to forget the 45 dollars spent at the door, let alone the array of talent missed in other parts of the city that night. This diminutive Paulistano created a larger than life energy, which convinced people not whether their decision to see him was right or wrong, but definitely a bloody good one.