How is Sigala still this reliable at manufacturing summer in the middle of a grey November week? We Used To Dance Here does exactly what the title promises, a wistful piano-house record about a club that probably shut down and a version of you that definitely did. Sigala has been running a hit factory for most of a decade, and the formula barely moves: a plinky piano riff, a vocal with a lump in its throat, a drop that manages to be euphoric and sad in the same breath. What saves it from being pure product is the melancholy sitting underneath. There is real grief in a song about missing a dancefloor, especially one aimed at people old enough to have actually lost a few of them. The vocal hook is the trap, back for a third pass before you clock that you are humming it, and it will stay lodged all afternoon whether you agreed to it or not. It is nostalgic dance-pop built for crying a little at a festival, and the crying is the point. Sigala knows exactly which bruise he is pressing, and he presses it with practised thumbs.
January
Chrome Daydream
Chrome stars, jelly hearts and holographic colour. A nod to the glossy, optimistic graphics of the early web.