The 10th anniversary of The Big Chill is both chilled out and chilly. Islington's draughty Union Chapel may be the club's spiritual home - the site of its first Sunday afternoon session in 1994 - but it doesn't keep out the winter nip. The atmosphere, however, is warm enough, somewhere between a free festival and a house party. There is an unattended coat rail instead of a cloakroom. People walk around proffering slices of birthday cake. Cushions litter what would otherwise be the dancefloor. Ten years ago these two rooms would have played host to bedraggled clubbers soothing battered psyches. Today's typical Big Chiller appears to be about 30, sipping a bottled beer and determined to have a quiet night because he's got websites to design tomorrow.

In an environment in which people talk rather than listen, and recline rather than dance, even the most beautifully crafted sounds can be reduced to aural wallpaper but Ulrich Schnauss' music is forceful enough to demand attention. A bashful German with a laptop, Schnauss is chillout's rising star, merging ambient swooshes with vapour-trail guitars. His tracks snowball into what you might call stadium chillout. It is often astonishingly, overwhelmingly beautiful.

Finally, there is a DJ set from Global Communication, whose bushy-bearded, flat-capped Tom Middleton has evidently just come from checking the drainage in the lower field. Roaming from the beatific ambience of their own material to Talk Talk and Terence Trent D'Arby, it epitomises the benign musical catholicism that gives The Big Chill its vitality. Middleton ends with Talking Heads' Once in a Lifetime. His LED display flashes: "We are 10 - We Are One." Even the cushions are cleared from the dancefloor.