thought once to be extinct, is among a rare breed of dancefloor alchemists’ that has evolved from the undercurrent of the city warehouse parties, matured through the desertdoof era in many a dry river bed and has now come into the Wide Open Space.  

Wollemi’s search for the ever elusive perfect bass Om* started in a place of analogue and turntables, through deep canyons of plastic, over hot and dusty dance floors into a Bilby’s arms. “Play us something to dance to!” she screamed.