Mousse T.

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Everybody has danced to at least one record by this man without having the faintest idea who made it, which is the standard fate of house producers and a slightly unjust one. The catalogue goes considerably deeper than the single that ended up in every advert, and a set lets him demonstrate that for two hours to a room that mostly came for one song and stays for the rest. There is a generosity to the way long-serving producers play when they are not trying to prove anything: lots of other people's records, no interest in being the cleverest person present, and an unembarrassed willingness to drop the obvious thing at the obvious moment. The floor in that room is small enough that the whole crowd moves as one object. Go expecting the hit, and be quietly annoyed that the tracks either side of it were better.