The air in the warehouse party was thick with fog machine juice and the smell of neon glow-stick fluid. It was 3:00 AM, the "witching hour" for hard trance and techno, where the casual clubbers had filtered out, leaving only the dedicated ravers in oversized phat pants.
For those six minutes, the year wasn't 2001, and the world outside that warehouse didn't exist. There was only the pulse, the sweat, and the mechanical command to keep going. P.C.P. - Here We Go (DJ Foot Remix) (2001)
As the needle dropped, the track didn’t start with a melody; it started with a warning. A mechanical, distorted voice cut through the hum of the subwoofers: “Here we go.” The air in the warehouse party was thick