Take My Hand by Sweet'nS: A Chaotic, Hyperactive Trip Back to '95
Alright, buckle up because this album is like getting hit with a sugar rush while someone cranks the volume on your stereo. Take My Hand by Sweet'nS drops you straight into 1995 Germany—a time when Drum n Bass was still finding its feet, Euro House ruled sweaty clubs, and Happy Hardcore made kids lose their damn minds in fields somewhere. Released under Key One Records, it's an unapologetic mess of beats that slaps harder than most things from that era.
First off, let’s talk about the tracks—five remixes of "Take My Hand," each one more unhinged than the last. Yeah, five versions. If you’re gonna do something, go all out, right? The Extended-Mix kicks things off like a sledgehammer to the chest. This isn’t just music; it’s a full-on assault. You’ve got these relentless breakbeats layered over euphoric synths that scream “I’M HIGH ON LIFE” louder than any lyric could. It sticks with me because it doesn’t give a crap about subtlety—it’s chaotic as hell but somehow pulls it off. Like, I can’t decide if I wanna dance or punch something. Maybe both?
Then there’s the Ravebase-Mix, which flips the vibe completely. This one feels darker, grittier, like they took the happy vibes and dunked them in industrial-grade caffeine. The bassline hits so hard it might actually rearrange your internal organs. And yet, it’s addictive as fuck. I kept coming back to this track because it’s got layers—every listen reveals some new detail you missed before. Plus, whoever programmed those drums deserves a medal for making them sound both robotic and alive at the same time.
Props to the crew behind this madness too. Producers Zip, Good, Her Majazzty, and The Hardbopper clearly didn’t sleep during the recording process. Werkstadt nailed the cover art too—it’s simple but screams ‘90s rave culture without being overly try-hard. Oh, and shoutout to Ch. Zip, G.B. Good, G. Deiana, and K. Sperber for writing tunes that haven’t aged half bad considering how bonkers everything sounded back then.
But here’s the thing—this album isn’t perfect. Some mixes feel repetitive after a while, and yeah, maybe five versions of the same song is overkill. But honestly? That’s part of its charm. It’s raw, imperfect, and dripping with energy. It reminds me why electronic music mattered (and still does).
Final thought: Listening to Take My Hand feels like stepping into a time machine fueled by adrenaline and cheap energy drinks. And honestly, I wouldn’t mind losing my keys in 1995 again if it meant hearing stuff like this. Peace out.
