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Sarah Wild’s Afterglow taps into a history of piano-led rave euphoria without leaning on nostalgia, nodding to blurry heads-down memories while keeping the arrangement lean and the sentiment fresh.
The drums are crisp, the bassline warm, and the hook lands with just enough shimmer to lift a room rather than flood it. Feelings of of the peak years cast anew for one more night. The production hits all the right notes, subtle vox work and neat fills keeping the tension pulling you along. Vhyce trims the edges and adds a slick, late-night glide to the rhythm, tighter phrasing, more slipstream than surge, nudging it into a streamlined pocket that sits neatly between what you expect from a remix, and something a little more.
Both versions drive that emotive sound: the piano-lead hands-up moments we all long for, and a low end that translates on bigger rigs. These are the kind of cuts that makes a crowd feel like the night’s still just getting started, a steady lift all the way to impressive heights rather than a stunt drop that keeps bodies close to the booth as the lights come up.
The morning shines brighter than ever, the world bathed in a flickering glow. The city races forward at its relentless pace, and you yield to the rush, lost in the beauty of the moment. Afterglow.
