The course of any Londoner's working week is soul destroying. The average citizen spends fifty hours wedged behind their desk. This mind numbing culture of high-pressure meetings, and inhaled lunches is brought to a standstill on the brink of the weekend.

This evening, the celebratory clinking of pint glasses chime jubilantly in Shoreditch. Here, an air of unbridled excitement emanates from XOYO, and for good reason: a series of supercharged DJs are about to create a sonic storm.

Entering the high doorways from 9.30pm, we're greeted to the captivating sounds of Brackles. Stood securely within the DJ booth on the upper floor, he bobs his head rhythmically as the lights paint the room deep blue. The polished floorboards vibrate, and robotic synth grooves echo from the speakers. Hypnotizing the crowed with a rolling drum rhythm, Brackles shifts the equilibrium by applying a fiery 2-step garage melody. Critically cited as a musical polymath, his ability to amplify the sense of rapture enveloping the room is effortless. With a well-timed flick of the cross fader, tribal drum patterns bounce between the shiny padding on the walls. Cycles of syncopated break beats animate the crowed as their heads dart erratically from left to right.

Now in full procession the night is taken to the next plateau in the basement. Here the dance floor swarms with bodies. The human cluster pulsates in unison the sounds of Floating Points. Setting speakers to stun, a military drum pattern dusts the dancing troops. A female vocal sample is broadcast, and a sudden state of euphoria is created as the voice rises. The atmosphere stills like the frozen surface of a pond. The clock strikes 11pm, and the glassy calm of the room shatters as cumbersome bass loops circulate like sonic cyclones. Testifying to the sudden state of urgency created, the lights above bring the air to boil with a deep shade of Pompeian red as the crowed roars in celebration.

Highly seasoned and oven roasted, the rampant flock bares witness to the headline act. Four Tet takes precedence behind the turntables by subtly ambling into the DJ booth after midnight. A thick layer of smoke eclipses his facial features, and a vigorous tuft of curly hair is seen bouncing enigmatically on top of his head. Delightful fragments of 8-bit bites playfully waltz around the room. With clockwork precision, a multi layered drum melody is executed. This begins with earthy shakes from a maraca, which coalesce with the equestrienne clip-clopping from a tribal drum sample. Both harmonies converge, and the sweat soaked bodies on the dance floor chant relentlessly as the delicate sound of glockenspiel is sprinkled over Four Tet's characteristically complex aural arrangements.

Come 3am XOYO has been transformed into a veritable hotbed of human activity. In total: an ethereal night encompassing heart stopping social energy, underscored by futuristic electronic sounds. Let's make the jump to light speed!