The DJ was so unpretentious he was possibly in the wrong job. I watched him from across the dancefloor, doing thumbs-ups and drinking from a tinnie like a dad sitting in a car at Auskick. And the music wasn’t quite what you’d expect either. I know you’d expect an alternating mix of “Down Under” and “That's the Way it's Gonna Be, Little Darlin”—or whatever that song is called—but the mix was actually just garden-variety electro. Like the guy was playing a beat, and that’s fine, but shed parties call for shed music imo. You don’t want your mate’s dad to break out the decks and spin his own shit. You just want him to crank the volume and play “You’re the Voice” on loop for as long as he possibly can. But he didn’t. And so we left.