Distant Haze

At 133 the pulse is brisk, but the record never raises its voice. In F minor the pads sit low and smeared, and the groove works by subtraction — a kick, a clipped hat, a chord that arrives late and leaves early. Energy reads 10 on paper; the effect is closer to pressure than release, which is the more useful thing in a dark room at four in the morning.

It belongs in the long middle of a set, the stretch where you want movement without incident. Slip it in after something vocal and it clears the room's head, all fog and forward lean. The haze of the title is honest: everything sits slightly out of focus, so it rewards being left to run rather than flicked past.