At 118 the groove leans back rather than pushes: soft-edged kick, shuffled hats, a bass that walks instead of pumps. In F major the Rhodes voicings sit bright without turning sweet, and what the energy reading calls 9 is really density — small events stacked close, a guitar flick, congas, a chord answering itself — rather than force.
The texture is dusty and close, like a room with the windows open. It belongs early, while a floor is still deciding, or in the loose middle of a longer set where something warm has to sit between harder records. Nothing here insists; the pleasure is in the swing and the space left around the keys.