Ace Berlin house, with a chronic case of the Disco Jerks.

Dazzling house-disco cut-ups, saucily steeped in soul classicism.
All-body coitus interruptus, dozens per minute.

The twitching, mangled corpses of Lemon and Tamiko Jones, left for dead by Frank Timm on the altar of cut-and-loop disco-house. Brilliant, rooted, and ecstatic.

A bass-bin trembler from the surefire doyen of nu disco-house.

A walloping one dozen tonics of close-cropped, spasming, blissed-out boogie abstraction, for dancin and prancin. Zinging pick-me-up blends of forensic, gleeful, sleight-of-hand skills and disco connoisseurship, school of Ron Hardy.
It’s a must.

Disco house on heat, school of Ron Hardy.
Disco edits at their most redemptively lethal. First up, Love Hangover…

Swingeing Millsian techno from the geezer formerly known as ∑. Nothing extraneous. Lethal.

Scintillating minimal techno. Crystalline, mystical. Outstanding.

Well-crafted, feeling variations of bass, UK garage and house, drum and bass and the rest.

Torsten Profrock’s occult homage to UK garage.
Two-step waylaid in the scuffed, churning, sub-heavy terrain running from his Chain Reaction days to Monolake, mysteriously entangled with the distressed tracks of old Ugandan 78s.

We love this film. Warmly recommended.

Finely tooled, route-one dancefloor thuggery.