Time Has Come

I’ll give Baruc this: at a hundred and twenty-two, the track is a locomotive cut—tethered kick, vapour-trail chords, and the kind of submerged pressure I want from dub techno. The energy reads a straight nine, yet locked in that major-key 3B haze it feels more utilitarian than euphoric, a grey-sky sprint rather than a sunrise.

It moves a room, no question; the groove is hypnotic and the frequencies are dialled for a peak-time basement. Still, I keep waiting for a melodic hook that never arrives, so it settles into the background of a set rather than its centrepiece—functional, fierce, and ultimately forgettable once the smoke clears.