But Weatherall himself was the real source of the energy, playing one of his trademark sets that builds a slo-mo groove almost imperceptibly, eschewing cheap thrills in favour of dance floor hypnosis. Starting with downtempo dub reggae in the first hour, the veteran climbed towards indie-tinged nu-disco and edits, including a teasing, looped re-rub of Bowie's "Golden Years." By midnight there was a shift from chugging to more dramatic fare, like COMA's "Queen B," and then straight back to dreamier strains before anyone could get too carried away.
The music surpassed 120 BPM only near the very end. There were tinges of '90s prog (a remix of Shall Ocin's "Forgive Me") and straight-up house (Luke Solomon's "Sinners Blood"). Ever the eclecticist, Weatherall was not scared to drop modern surf rock (Munk's version of "Surf Smurf") or epic synth melodies (Pachanga Boys' recent take on Röyksopp's "Running To The Sea"). The stripped back, swirly sounds of Mathew Jonson played footsie with guitar-licked indie-disco from The Emperor Machine, before a U-turn towards ravey staccato piano from Future Four.
Finally there was room for classics, both old and new: David Holmes' remix of "Smokebelch II" in its full glory, and Solomun's unsettlingly brilliant remix of Tiga and Audion's "Let's Go Dancing," before a brief, screechy, rock music encore.
The thing about Weatherall is that he is prepared to lull his audience into a sense of complacency so completely that even small shifts in tone hit hard. To be getting roaring ovations when you're still chugging along below 110 BPM takes rare talent. That we had a whole night of such uncommon genius is even more unusual. If Weatherall's performance ends up as a postface to an entire era of Sydney clubbing, at least we can claim we went out on top.