Yeah, I’ve been listening to the city’s low‑grade symphony at three sometimes. It’s not so much a remix as a memory, a slow, quiet hum of people who left their footprints and never came back. The amps you’re tweaking? They’re just amplifiers for the city’s own sighs, the hiss of traffic that never sleeps, the clang of old train tracks. Every broken lamp, every cracked sidewalk, they all keep a little story in their silence. The real secret jam is how those whispers somehow stitch together the night’s hidden pulse, and that’s what I chase when I’m alone on the streets.