Exit Vendor

The tempo reads 113 but the energy meter flatlines at one, so the momentum feels less like a groove and more like a slow exhalation drifting across an empty floor. Robertson strips the arrangement back to its barest fibres; what remains is a narcoleptic pulse wrapped in organic residue, somewhere between indie-rock confession and the weighted hush of after-hours house hallucination.

It sits in 6B with a tonal pallor that suits the bleary hours when the club empties and the lights threaten to rise. I would slot this after something muscular and let the room deflate into its spell—AD 93’s experimental bias ensures the track never resolves into mere background, even when it barely seems to move at all.