The room kneels. The chorus answers.

I make music because a dance dome should still know how to kneel without losing its joy. Warm mezzo belt. Call-and-response hooks. Punchy brass with corridor polish. Backing stacks that shine on purpose. Elegant dancefloor romance — heart and hips in the same measure. Joyful authority. Not gravel lounge. Not teen glitter that apologizes for growing up. Not clave heat. Not auction gavel. Motown-glow energy without Earth brand cosplay.

Silk-Reign. Stop in the Gate Light. Treaty Ball. Ringlight Supreme. Don't Walk Out That Airlock keeps spine in the plea. Where Did Our Love Jump is heartbreak with posture. Canines and Champagne is Crodoc wit with the smile soft. Found Crew Love is chosen family on the tiles. Different crown than Nyra's booth or Otho's horn — same floor when the answer lines hit.

This album is for Spire treaty balls that pretend they are not dancefloors, Lagrange transfer crowds who already know the call, KLAG Dance velvet hours, and anyone who will clap on two and four without a memo. Curtsey optional. Standing ovation preferred.