Frisky

At 128 in A minor, the frame is strict: a dry kick, hats kept short, and a bassline that sits low and doesn't crowd the mid. The vocal hook is clipped into a stutter rather than sung out, which is what saves it — a frisky phrase used as percussion, dropping in and out so the groove keeps breathing instead of tipping into novelty. Energy reads high, but the record spends it carefully, holding the top end back so the low-mid does the work.

It belongs mid-set, after something deeper has settled the floor, doing the job of lifting attention without announcing itself. The minor key keeps the whole thing cool rather than bright, and the texture stays dry and close — a small room rather than a big one. Nothing here is trying too hard, and that restraint is the point.