A thousand drum machines rolling down hill, about to bury your chalet.
The tornado tosses you into thin air, grunts and percussion pelting you from every direction, and doesn’t put you down for another five minutes.
Burying UK funky, kuduro and soca rhythms and industrial percussion in dark fields of reverb and layered drums.
Just listening in the car or at home will leave you exhausted. Please enjoy responsibly.
You make a bass face, and then dance harder for the next two minutes.
Scuffed Records lives in a parallel universe, confusing because of just how familiar it feels.
As much global dancehall and bang as you can cram into a dancefloor tune.
Echos of rave bass and sirens are presented for meditation over a beat that’s danceable but not quite.
Perfect examples of compelling ideas, well explored.