Sven knows his key demographic: Men born in the late 1960s, who have made a bit of money in the hospitality business, perhaps not entirely legally, but is anyway comfortably well off. Now the kids have left the nest and the wife wants holidays in more exclusive destinations than Granca and Magaluf.
Now in Ibiza they want a good time, and find themselves at Las Dalias, probably with some friends from back home, with the men now grey-haired and looking like villains from a Guy Ritchie movie.
But do they belong here? They haven't been following music since synth music faded out and was replaced by Brit pop.
But when Sven finishes with It's My Life, which they all remember from their youth, they know they are at home. Las Dalias is for them. All is good.
So I'm afraid we're going to have to hear that song also next year.