Stimulin: Moonlight Club, London

TO HAVE and het up! The sweat poured out of them! Stimulin aren't stupid, to put it wildly. Stimulin are no charity — see them, seal them, keel over — and to say that they're a classical entity is kissing the point a little too sloppily: as a value-bearing pop exaltation of the dance experience made possible through drink, lust, fun, fame and possibility you can beat Stimulin, you can fault Stimulin, but you'll be moved to move, made to smile, you'll long for the better sort of company and be quite happy to shake loose the clumsier critical values. (Looking for a hundred new values, I'll make the damned things up.)