Elsewhere in London, crowds escape from the hard times of '94 by going all the way back to the amniotic womb of ambient, but here, in an opposite which couldn't be more extreme, the propulsive clatter of cyberdrums and the subdermal pulse of the bass triggers a furious frenzy of the feet, a jittery, skittery pandemonium, as if the entire crowd is willing itself into another future, fast-forwarding on and on until the tape of today runs out and suddenly, shockingly, it's tomorrow, a new tomorrow.
