There are several slices of advice that one should nibble on before venturing into the city:

1. When planning on getting a park near George Street at 9:00pm on a Saturday night, terminate that plan. Just stop it, you overconfident bastard. It is always a colossal rookie mistake! WHYDON’TYOULISTENTOME!?!

The rest of the rules don’t even matter if you ignore that first one. Of course, that’s exactly what this precious little human did.

After spending a good forty minutes finding a snug park handily located a two kilometre stroll away from the Metro, I shook off my car legs and made it to the venue in record time. Having devastatingly missed Wordlife, I was buoyed when I learnt that someone behind the scenes was as organised as me, meaning that the main room was running half an hour behind schedule. Excellent! More DJ Nu-Mark for me!

The ex-Jurassic–5 producer could not have been a more perfect party starter / ice breaker. He basically played the tracklist for every wedding ever, but did it in such a masterful way that a room full of music snobs was happy to give him a shameless “woop woop” at the raise of a hand. He then brought out a table filled with musical children’s toys and led them in a bizarre symphony. Cymbal crashing monkey included.

After leaving very little time to cleanse the palette, Space Dimension Controller took Nu-Mark’s place. Without a word, he started to gently push waves of hypnotising sound around the room. These waves slowly washed over each person in attendance, putting them at ease and melding them with the Brit’s own unique headspace. Things got progressively stranger as the set progressed. The producer possesses a powerful, booming voice that wouldn’t be out of place coming from Zeus’s mouth, and he used it to full effect. “A robotic prostitute presented herself to me,” narrated the performer, as he told us tales of interplanetary adventures while continuing to provide invigoration with his mysteriously exciting sounds. If Frank Zappa were born thirty years later, he’d be doing something like this. Strange music supporting stranger tales that are either butt-clenchingly hilarious or enlightening, depending on what you’re drinking.

Having brought the crowd maddeningly close to climax, it was unquestionably time for The Gaslamp Killer to tear people’s faces to shreds with some ruthless LA beats. Between thrashing around onstage and making full use of his gloriously frizzy hair for headbanging purposes, the beatmaker managed to spin Flying Lotus, Ta-ku, Hudson Mohawke, and even the theme from The Legend of Zelda. Sure, why not. The native of A Whale’s Vagina (San Diego) even made time for a pro-weed rant – “what’s the big deal? You’re Australian, you’re from the bush. Let us smoke the bush!” What a guy.

Rustie might have been ridiculously subdued compared to The Gaslamp Killer, but the music did all the work for him. Seriously insane shapes were pulled on the dancefloor by many a grinning raver. One guy legitimately twisted himself into the form of a pretzel. Anyway, after a sly groove to the garage vibes coming from T.Williams’ set in the front bar, I returned to the main room for the arrival of a true sonic force – dubstep pioneers Digital Mystikz.

After almost heading home before DMZ started, I couldn’t believe how quickly time went at their set. Every track sent cheers through the huge crowd that stayed behind to experience the monstrosity of their sound. It was so refreshing to hear the roots of dubstep in a live setting, with the influence of Jamaican dub music so clear in the mix. I’d say a few others had a decent time as well, seeing as though the floorboards were reduced to splinters and I lost count of how many rewinds there were.

The very long journey home at 5am was rough, and work the next morning was rougher, but turning down a night like that is not an option.

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