Halfway through the Jack Ladder's set a man in his mid-fifties strolled in off the street and offered Kirin a firm handshake in congratulations for his melody, a melody that had sucked people off the street and led them into a dark room with falic appendages and nonchalant youths. The man stayed, swayed. I watched his eyes glaze over and surrender to a brief reprieve from the tethers of suburban life. He had probably been strolling down streets all his life listening out for that one fleeting moment of suspended reality.. and here it was.