Don't Take It Personal

At 125 the tempo isn't doing the work. The energy reading of 9 comes from density instead: clipped percussion, a bassline that keeps leaning forward, pads stacked in F minor until the air in the room thickens. Nothing hurries. It just accumulates, layer by layer, until the low end feels like it's taking up more space than it should.

This is a mid-to-late record, the point where a floor has stopped talking and started moving as one body. The melodic line arrives late and then stays, more wistful than euphoric, and the whole thing resolves without ever quite letting go. Functional, certainly — but there's a melancholy under the momentum that keeps pulling me back to it.