The room is hot, hot, hotter than Hell.
People are sweating and condensed liquid runs down the walls.
It looks like a nasty plumbing problem, but it smells salty.
Like an animal.
A live one, not one that has been salted.
As we move towards the back of the room, we come upon a fog bank.
It’s fine, like gauze, but it’s there.
As you approach it, the hair on your sweaty forearm stands on end.
The DJ booth has its own microclimate, several dozen degrees colder than the dance floor.
They’re playing an icy cool Samuli Kemppi track.
It’s sucking heat out of its surroundings, feeding through the needle into the mixer and out onto the floor, where it turns into heat again.
This year it’ll be 10 years since first Samuli Kemppi release on wax.
10 years of DJs and music fans with frostbitten fingers