From the moment the idea was first spoken about in relatively hushed tones, to when it was announced and caused and immediately caused a stir, and right up till the night itself, it always screamed of the potential to be something quite special. All in the name of Robbie Lowe: he who has provided us with a feast of aural delights over a many years, and will certainly continue to do so for many more.

Disclaimer: If you were considered coming to this gig, but for whatever reason could not quite make it in the end, consider this your warning. If you to choose to read any further, it will only disappoint you more.

The man behind Shrug, Dave Stuart, appearing sans beard for the first time ever, but in its place a dirty Movember mo, kicked things off as he usually does – namely, in style. However, he did something he rarely does and with more than just a smattering of vocal house, immediately, one could tell that the night was going to be just that little bit different. Warming up duties complete, the man they’d all come to see stepped up behind the decks, and was greeted with nothing but warm faces of like-minded people, all here to celebrate two stellar journeys: firstly, the one that had gone fifteen years and which had brought him to this very point, and secondly, the one he was almost certainly about to take us on. And my oh my, did he ever.

For a bloke that is seemingly always humble, regardless of who the big star he might be warming up for may be, from Sasha to Tiesto, having a night that was dedicated entirely to him was similarly a humbling experience. But that’s just typical of the nice guy that Robbie is, right?

In the lead up to the special gig, he featured in a series of interviews and spoke candidly about being excited about what the night would bring. As midnight struck and the Civic was jamming with a who’s who of the Sydney faithful – seemingly all gathered to support someone they proudly and passionately call their own – it seemed that the excitement was contagious.

As Friday officially became Saturday, the place was filling up quickly, things became that touch proggier, the dancefloor filled, the arms were raised, the fists were clenched, and we were up, up, and away. For close to the next five hours, he had us all eating out of his proverbial hands, as we reacted to his every musical ebb and flow, wherever it may be that he took us.

There was plenty of progressive prowess, more than a touch of melodic mastery, a sprinkling of acid, and even what was bordering on trance. And for every turn that he took us on, it was like the smiles across the room kept shifting, as every punter had at least one of their musical itches scratched. And so the night continued, as Mr Lowe, befitting a retrospective, took us back, way back. The mixing was seamless, the track selection, not surprisingly, gold.

The Civic was jam packed, and as taxi changeover came and went, the numbers dwindled ever so slightly, and almost in appreciation of the still heaving crowd, Robbie took it up a notch, and with it came the hushed discussions of “set of the year” and “better than anything I’ve heard” coming from chin-strokers and regular punters alike. For a Shrug crowd, which knows at least a thing or two about most things musical, the accolades rarely come much better than that.

But truth be told, neither do nights like this. At a time when some are wondering what has happened to the Sydney club scene of yesteryear, along comes a night like this and restores your faith in it all. And who better to have done that than someone that will proudly always call Australia home.