“You want Funky House, yeah?” (Opens cotton coat and reveals) “How about a freshly pressed cut of Fishler & SoulSaxx?”

The plan is easy: dead cert bangin’ house with a wee drizzle of funk splendour and disco stardust. Up (All Night Long) delivers on all parameters!

Mucho mas Lisztomania madness:

Discoholics Anonymous doesn’t ask for cookies. It slips them into your pocket while you’re not looking, the way clubs used to slip flyers into your coat lining at 4:37 in the morning. Some of them are harmless — the house keys. They keep the lights on, remember who you are, stop the whole thing collapsing when you hit refresh. Without them the site is just a room with no door. The others are curious little spies. They want to know which mixes you stayed for, which ones you ghosted, whether you