W6

The tempo sits at a merciless 136 BPM, and in key 5A the whole thing feels like brushed steel dragged across concrete—every hi-hat is a razor, every bass hit a sealed piston pumping cold air. There is no fat here, just a locked electro grid that generates its own oxygen and refuses to dip below maximum thrust.

Ten-out-of-ten energy does not mean chaos; it means this belongs in that after-hours pocket where the crowd has been winnowed to heads who can take sustained voltage. I would throw it in after a tripped-out breakdown and let the 5A root act as harmonic ballast while the rhythm does the damage, keeping the floor taut until the lights threaten to come up.