Brutal

The kick lands like a steel door slamming at 133 BPM, and Huntemann immediately starts tightening the screws. Energy this high could spill into chaos, but his sound design keeps everything caged: lean, metallic percussion, a bassline breathing through its teeth, and that curious 4B brightness slicing through the gloom like a warning light. It is dark, yes, but hypnotically so—every bar feels measured, almost clinical, as if administering some forbidden late-night anaesthetic to the floor.

This is a weapon for the 2 AM pivot, when the room is too packed for subtlety but too savvy for cheap thrills. The tech-trance lineage is audible in the ascending pressure and tunnel-vision arrangement, yet it never relents into formula. I would drop it after something swampier to let that major-key glint act as a cruel tease, then watch the crowd lock into its piston-like groove until close.