Harry Wills builds worlds out of rhythm, each release an ecosystem where groove dictates gravity. With a catalog spanning his own Nimble imprint and respected labels like Serenity, Salty Nuts, Sock It to Me, and Holding Hands, his productions thrive on intricate detail and an ever-present sense of motion. No matter how deep he dives into his influences, the end result is always unmistakably his—crisp, dynamic, and deeply functional.
For his latest offering “Sweatbox” on the notorious Ba Dum Tish imprint, Wills joins forces with Berlin’s underground wordsmith Mikey Sebastian, crafting a three-track expedition into the intersection of modern garage and Hip-House. Each cut brims with dancefloor urgency, a seamless fusion of percussive precision and spoken-word swagger—three weapons, each honed to perfection, effortlessly commanding bodies into motion.
The EP kicks off with the title track “Sweatbox”, a future classic and track engineered for club catharsis. A punchy breakbeat foundation lays the groundwork for hypnotic, lysergic pads that swirl and unfurl like neon smoke, all anchored by a dense, analog bassline that pulses with an almost biological energy. Mikey Sebastian’s sleazy, UK-style Hip-House vocals weave through the haze, a narcotic incantation luring dancers deeper into the club’s delirious underbelly. It’s the kind of track that latches onto muscle memory, ensuring that even after the night fades, its echoes linger in the subconscious like a ghost of euphoria past.
“Interstellar Reveller” on the B-side ventures further into the abyss—a futuristic garage hybrid where unpredictable artifacts warp and collide in Wills’ trademark style. The rhythm is frenetic, a skeletal yet commanding pulse that leaves just enough negative space for Mikey’s rapid-fire delivery to twist and morph around it. An iPhone alarm effect flickers in the background, recontextualized into a surreal, time-bending motif, reminding dancers that the night is infinite yet fleeting. It’s an exhilarating paradox—claustrophobic yet expansive, earthy yet alien—designed for those moments when the dancefloor feels like a portal to something bigger than itself.
The EP closes with “Lay Back”, which is the EP’s after-hours anthem—a woozy, late-night serenade where deep, rolling grooves meet sensual vocal refrains, their hushed, breathy presence adding a touch of afterparty decadence. There’s an effortless sensuality to the way the groove unfolds, a push and pull between restraint and release, tension and surrender. The track exudes the warmth of a last cigarette shared on a dimly lit balcony, a fleeting pause before the first rays of morning cut through the lingering nocturnal fog. It’s the kind of song that doesn’t dictate movement but rather invites it, as if whispering to the listener, “Stay just a little longer.”
This is Wills at his most daring, a shapeshifter pushing his creative boundaries while embracing a rawer, more spoken-word-driven energy. The interplay between his detailed, high-fidelity production and Mikey Sebastian’s idiosyncratic poetry feels both fresh and oddly inevitable, as if these two worlds were always meant to collide. It’s a collaboration that doesn’t just work—it thrives, and if this EP is any indication, there’s a whole lot more worth exploring in the space where their styles intersect.
Words by Pasha Pliskin
Torture the Artist 