At 140 BPM, the rhythm tracks like a pulse in a corridor of smoked glass: sleek, insistent, and deliberately left of centre. The trance lineage is unmistakable, yet Talabot and Or warp it through an AD 93 lens, letting the 9B key settle into a brooding minor-key pull that favours texture over anthemics. There is a restrained physicality here—energy at a disciplined seven—that keeps the groove locked without ever hysterically peak-time.
It is the sort of record that bridges the warm-up and the main room, building a room that feels intimate even as the tempo demands movement. I would slot it after something looser to tighten the tension, letting its forward momentum carry the floor into sharper, more cerebral territory. The production is tasteful in the way only an iconic underground voice can manage: functional, yes, but never merely so.