Yep Yep

Moin twist the clock to 122bpm and I can feel the pressure build immediately; the groove is taut, mechanical, and drenched in the kind of static-laced urgency that makes a small room feel claustrophobic to my ears. There is no warm-up here—energy sits at a constant nine, with guitars or synths locked in a Db major grid that favours forward momentum over melody, every bar pushing toward the red.

I’d slot this exactly where the night starts to fray: the harder leftfield hour where post-punk aggression meets electronic discipline. AD 93’s catalogue thrives on this raw friction, and to me Yep Yep functions as a bridge between scuzzy live-band catharsis and a club rig’s physical demand.