Make Me Feel

This is not music for the hesitant. At 143 BPM, Tommy Holohan locks into a rigid 3B grid that feels less like a track and more like a sustained panic attack wrapped in steel—every bar driving forward with that maximum-energy tenacity that threatens to strip the paint from the walls. The texture is all raw voltage and compressed air, leaving no space for breath, only momentum.

Dropped at the right moment, it is pure peak-time sabotage: the kind of record that turns a packed room into a single, heaving organism. It belongs in the final hour when the lights are down and the only objective is escalation; a functional, brutalist tool that does exactly what Steel City Dance Discs promises—underground credibility with club impact that bruises.