Don't Look

At 122 the tempo isn't the story; the density is. Everything sits close to the kick — a clipped bass that never quite leaves the downbeat, hats that tick rather than splash, filters that open by degrees instead of announcing themselves. In B-flat minor the harmonic air is grey-blue, so even at an energy of nine it reads as pressure rather than brightness.

That makes it a daytime record with a shadow in it — the sort of thing that works in the third hour of an open-air set, when the floor is full and nobody needs convincing. It won't stop a room, but it will hold one, and the restraint is what keeps it from tipping into the obvious. I'd use it as a bridge, not a peak.