recall

At 136 BPM in 7A, this thing hits with a ten-out-of-ten intensity that feels less like a polite tech-house nod and more like a full-bore sprint through Studio Barnhus' more unhinged corridors. The rhythm snaps with an off-kilter quirkiness, refusing to flatten into generic four-four politeness; instead it jacks and twitches, building a room that feels simultaneously claustrophobic and cavernous.

You drop this when the floor is already liquefied and needs something leftfield to keep the pressure on. There is no mid-set warm-up here—its sheer kinetic charge demands the deep end of a peak-time slot, where the 7A tension and relentless forward motion can unravel without apology. It moves like a freak in a sweatbox: all limbs, no etiquette.