Mental baile future-funk.
Impossibly, round two ratchets through higher gears than before. The cutting and scratching skills are brutally imperious, by turn eviscerating in split seconds a trembling flock of far-flung musical prey. Out of the wreckage looms a kind of apocalyptic Techno Scratch terror; the vengeful prophesy of forebears like Grand Wizzard Theodore and the Knights of the Turntable.
Hot, hot, hot.