As an unwavering bastion in my theoretical top ten songs of all time, Easy Lover by Phil Collins (masterfully assisted by Philip Bailey) had little trouble in luring me of into its latest namesake, a Friday night affair at Punk in Soho.

The premise makes sense; leave your credibility at the door and get your rocks off to the songs you had forgotten you loved (or were too scared to admit it). We’re talking mid-nineties dance anthems, think Rozalla, Haddaway, that featured heavily on double-disc rave compilations and were considered for the edgier roster of Top of the Pops. I was excited to see how Easy Lover would pull it off and avoid that tragic walk down memory lane often seen at school reunions for thirtysomethings. So, we had cred-friendly, slightly edgy pop-meets-electro hits of today (you guessed it, CSS and NYPC) sliced around the old-school classics in order to appease both traditionalist and modernist. It didn’t work.

Firstly, a feel-good night of nostalgia is out of place at a swanky west-end venue where the bouncer’s suit cost more than a small car. The entrance is uninviting and the regimented door policy is at odds with the encouraged ‘fun-factor’ inside. Couple this with the fact that it is a Friday night; the post-work office crowd are uninspiring at best and look somewhat confused by their own presence. Some made a concerted effort to fill the minute dancefloor, spurred on by a valiant effort from the well-meaning Easy Lover dj, but alas, delving into yesteryear became redundant pretty quickly and my lemonade was served flat. I headed to Trailer Trash.

Even as I write this, I can’t help but hear that glittering guitar-soaked intro in my head as I wonder how they could have gotten it so wrong.