BANIA (Rain Tempo)

We’ve all been in that Jakarta bunker where the air conditioning lost the fight hours ago, and the only relief is the percussive downpour of a well-curated breaks set. BANIA’s Rain Tempo alias at the KLAB73 takeover is for the heads who know their UK techno comes with a side of sweat-drenched shuffle. The room is a cavern of murky reds and blues, bodies locked into a collective sway that feels more like a sustained exhalation than a dance. Technically, this is a masterclass in rolling pressure, averaging 136 BPM and predominantly locked into the 3B Camelot wheel for a hypnotic, harmonic journey.

The energy profile—71% low, 24% mid, 5% high—tells the story: a foundation of sub-bass weight punctuated by intricate percussion, with mixing so smooth it feels like one evolving organism. The crate digging is where BANIA earns our respect. Leyo’s 'Sweat' isn’t just an opening track; it’s a thematic declaration. Anunaku & Dj Plead’s 'Wheele' is a percussive weapon, all skittering chaos and sub-aquatic weight.

Joy Orbison’s 'flight fm' appears not as a chart hit but as a melancholic interlude, its pads slicing through the gloom, while Hodge’s 'Sub 100' is a minimalist sermon on the power of a kick drum. Om Unit & James Bangura’s 'Ruffneck' injects a junglist flair, and LFT’s 'Broken101' offers a textural deep cut. The journey is impeccable: from the opening groove of 'Sweat', building through the tribal frenzy of Jurango & Jamaica Mnanda’s 'Junglizer', and finally dissolving into the 16-minute abyssal plunge of Toma Kami’s 'Ritmo Actual', a track so long it deserves its own passport.