As if conjured from the collective subconscious of dancefloors across continents, “Game of Tunes Vol. 3“ lands with the fervour of a midnight transmission from another dimension. The collaborative offspring of LEGRAM VG and Rubber Ducky Records, the Games of Tunes imprint continues its unpredictable voyage through the subterranean currents of contemporary club culture. This third instalment in the series functions not merely as a compilation, but as a musical tarot – four archetypes of the underground, each a facet of the dancefloor’s many moods, drawn together in playful tension and communion. Whether flickering in candle-lit basements or surging through smoke-hazed forests, these tracks respond to the crowd’s unspoken question: what next?
Baldov opens the record with “Dance Connexion”, a velveteen-filtered homage to French touch, refracted through the prism of today’s sleek club sophistication. It’s the sound of sequins seen through Vaseline-lensed nostalgia – all silky house grooves, elegantly clipped vocal snippets, and retrofuturist synths that oscillate between memory and mirage. Pitched a shade lower than its late-’90s predecessors, the track wears its sentimentality with poise, like a well-cut vintage suit tailored for a future soirée. It doesn’t just move bodies – it stirs ghosts of dancefloors past into motion.
With “Small World”, Sif. B steers the needle into deeper, duskier territory. The track unfolds like a fogged-over photograph of rave’s early morning hours: slow-building acid lines coil around proggy pads that shimmer with the golden-era glow of labels like Guerilla. Breakbeats skitter like distant thoughts, while subdued melodies bloom with restrained emotion. There’s a cinematic tension here – a sense that something profound is just out of reach, glimmering on the edge of the horizon. The ideal selection for when a dancefloor needs recalibration – not to pause, but to reflect.
A title like a koan, “Music or Noise?” invites paradox – and delivers with beautiful unease. Buenaguas sculpts a brooding slow-burner that sits somewhere between Montevideo’s shadow-drenched techno and the rigid elegance of EBM. The acid slowly unfurls, serpentine and sensuous, building with hypnotic insistence until it consumes the listener entirely. There’s paranoia beneath the surface, a controlled tension that creeps under the skin – the track doesn’t climax so much as it engulfs, like smoke in a sealed room. It’s an anthem for the night’s most unhinged hour – when bodies are too entangled to separate music from madness.
Alich closes the ritual with “The Evidence”, a track as curious in title as it is in execution. A minimal, acid-dipped hybrid that flirts with sleaze and sophistication in equal measure, the track is driven by a writhing synthline that feels squeezed from some alien fruit, ripe and dangerous. Whistles echo like signals from a malfunctioning satellite, while housey pads slide in and out of frame, giving the track a spatial instability that feels deliberate and thrilling. It’s a weapon, no doubt – but one that requires precision, a scalpel rather than a hammer. In the hands of a discerning selector, it’s a portal to darker pleasures.
“Game of Tunes Vol. 3” is not simply another VA – it’s a coded message broadcast from the nerve center of the underground. Each cut carries its own dialect, yet together they speak a shared language of tension, seduction, and transcendence. This is club culture in collage form: a mosaic of past motifs reanimated with present intent, stitched together with humour, mystery, and love for the ritual of the rave. Whether you’re chasing sunrises or dodging strobes, there’s something here for every dimension of the night.
Words by Pasha Pliskin
Torture the Artist 