PC Music's A. G. Cook "Sounds Like Pouring Pop Rocks In Your Ears"

Valentine's day usually works one of two ways for me. If I have a girlfriend, I'll sit in a restaurant spending an obscene amount of money on set menus that usually turn my stomach. If I don't (which is essentially every year), I'll sit in a dimly lit bar, spending an obscene amount of money on overpriced drinks that usually turn my stomach. Somewhere along the line, it'll be gut-wrenching.

Starting this years celebrations in an all too familiar fashion, I picked up a couple of cans of knock-off Red Bull and mixed them with a bottle of whiskey from December's trip to The Warehouse Project. This choice of leftover spirit was kind of appropriate, seeing as WHP security's over-eager frisking that night could've been the last semi-romantic moment I had. Attempting to hold down a mixture of Valentine's pessimism and budget liquor, my companion Morgan and I made our way to Plastic People to see in the day of passion for 'Eclair Fifi and Pals': curated and headlined by Eclair Fifi, with her pals SOPHIE, Neana, Felicita and A. G. Cook in tow.

As a venue, Plastic People doesn't exactly scream "lovers retreat". The space is basically a basement boasting intimidating speaker walls, and famed for housing London's favourite sub-heavy specialist night, FWD>>. Although, after navigating my way through reams of pizza and heart shaped balloons, it was pretty clear I wasn't going to be hearing any Digital Mystikz tonight. Myself and Morgan got there for opening which, as anybody knows, is totally against club etiquette. It probably also made for interesting viewing watching two half-cut men power-sliding on their knees in an empty room, to slow jams, like young boys at a school disco. Our cups continued to fill with gin, as did the room with people, and the night unfolded into one of the most interesting evenings of music of my life.

From here on in, Eclair Fifi's curatorial skills truly shone through; leading us through Felicita's excitable, high energy jams, Neana's pounding Jersey club, and SOPHIE's skewed take on sparkling electronic pop, before playing just about anything and everything that hadn't already been spun by her guests. While I only really stopped dancing to get a drink, quote some Drake lyrics, or debate whether I should propose to Ms. Fifi - Morgan advised me against it - the true highlight of the night was the set from PC Music's A. G. Cook.

Never heard of A. G. Cook? He's a London based producer who creates sugar-sweet electronic pop music that's so catchy, it's addictive. Laying somewhere within the realms of Hudson Mohawke's 'Satin Panthers' material and Whigfield's seminal classic 'Saturday Night', Cook's tracks inspire joyous nostalgia without skipping into parody territory.

In a time where large chunks of the electronic music scene shies away from the unashamedly happy, Cook's set made me giddier than that messy whiskey and Red Bull mix ever could. Throughout his hour-long set, A. G. Cook span a collection of tracks that were all taken from his own label, PC Music, with each song giving the effect of someone pouring a pack of Pop Rocks into my ears. Every second seemed tailor-made to release every last endorphin, causing unadulterated glee within the venue's bricks and mortar. Plastic People's frequently sweaty and condensated walls were shimmering. Cramping was exchanged for intimacy, while lovers of all kinds were forming on the dance floor; from hand-holders to slow grinders, and to brand new friends.

As I left Plastic People - with my mate a little worse for wear, but still in tow - I realised just how special the night was. 'Eclair Fifi and Pals' unified a group of people, who already shared a common love of unpredictable, brilliant electronic music, before they even walked through the door. As cliché as it sounds, music is the language of love. Without the tired bravado of clubber snobbery, every night could be like this. Simple, friendly and downright blissful. And while I didn't spend hundreds of pounds on quail's eggs and champagne for a Tinder date, or pay extortionate amounts for budget booze - £4 for a Gordon's and tonic ain't bad - I still found love within the spirit and music of the evening. That last sentence is either going to turn your stomach, or get you to think differently the next time you go out. You decide.

You can follow Mitchell Stevens on Twitter here: @MitchStevensss