Oh, Harry, you tricked us.

You sold us a disco, but that’s not where you’ve taken us.

This album is a hand around your wrist, a guide through the inferno, weaving through waves of bodies until you reach the alley out back. The brick wall to lean on and the crisp air to breathe in and a cigarette exchanged between cold fingertips, just drunk enough to be allowed.

It’s sweat drying rapidly, not knowing the time, the bass still bumping through the wall against your shoulder blades. This is where the most fun conversations of the night tend to occur, and Harry has bottled it for us — snatched it right from the fog and crystallized it in his open palm.

I’m so desperately fond of this album.

It’s a natural graduation from his previous work, an elder brother to Harry’s House, and a masterclass in adding more fun without losing any of the intimacy.

I give this album a happy round of applause and a fond salute.

Well done!