At a militant 130 BPM, this thing hits the floor with a nine-out-of-ten charge that refuses to play polite within straight techno. The rhythm locks into a jagged motorik grid, but those melodic hooks keep warping off-centre, flashing their indie-dance eccentricities in the gloom of that 12A key.
It is the sort of record that turns a room sideways: too frenetic for warm-up, too quirky for peak-time purism, perfect for the hour when the crowd wants hooks but still needs teeth. The textures feel handmade, the momentum relentless, and the whole machine rattles with the self-assured identity of an act that knows exactly how weird the floor can get.