Call My Name

At 136 BPM and locked in 4B, this thing hurtles forward like a glitter-streaked freight train, marrying the melodic-house vocal immediacy that caught my ear to a properly psychedelic low-end. The energy sits at a relentless nine, meaning every bar feels purpose-built for hands-in-the-air abandon; the key’s bright lift gives the hook an almost triumphant sheen that cuts straight through the haze. In the room, it occupies that dangerous sweet spot between sing-along sentiment and rolling, dancefloor hypnosis. I would slam this in after a darker, prog-leaning stretch to blindside the crowd with colour—its texture is polished, almost arena-ready, but the 136 BPM gallop keeps it firmly in psy-trance territory rather than commercial pop. It moves like a headrush disguised as a chorus.