Alienata, 23 Feb, Night Kitchen

So it is here, a huge green door of The Night Kitchen, the location secret until two hours before the gig. Before I descend into the annals beyond, where I'll find slim rooms and sweating bodies, beer cans on doty tables under the forgiving February sky, worn couches of refuge and a bathroom soaked in everything, I rest my palm on the cold, poison green surface. To a discreet degree the door is throbbing from the music inside that it's barely able to contain. Heavy beats from Control resident Muad'dib, support by local staple Randy Lahey, and later, a banging, delicious, three-hour-long spell of madness from Berlin electro headliner Alienata.

I knock twice, the door opens, and now I hear the crowd inside

I cling onto the final shreds of my sobriety, drowned mainly in cider. I embrace the last moment out here in the warm chill - the Earth is dying, we need to dance while we can. I take a long-due deep breath. The music from under my skin is like muffled cries from the Musa Dagh, urgent but comforting, we are all dying and at the end of the day, it is alright. I knock twice, the door opens, and now I hear the crowd inside.

There's limited space and no tickets on the door, just the initiated 125, faces under weird hats familiar by now to all those who've followed the instructions on Resident Advisor. An adjacent voice is asking me who I am. They know my name from the last Control gig, where I swore a chemically binding oath that I would come to this one. Now I'm here, at the second stop of this haunted party train that is slowly ripping Sheffield's underground apart. I answer and the green door opens wide. I nod, click my tongue and step inside.

Máté Mohos