Power, pain, pleasure and the other extremes blend on "Feel me" – a kind of Bowiesque, Byrnesque S&M tantrum. There's sweetness too, on the dubby "Crazy Bal'heads" with its boom-chick, ear-stroking political conscience. "Coming round" has a late night desperation that's new to their sound; the thrill of stirring the melting pot is a sensuous trip on "Tweak your nipple".
It's not all adrenaline. "Flying Here" captures a certain kind of panic as only Faithless can, painting the loneliness of lying inches away from your partner without touching, wall to wall with millions of other souls in the middle of your city.
This is a perfect comeback for Faithless. It's a lust-letter from a 90s club night. In some way it feels like a retrospective – except one featuring new tracks – and even references 80s underground legends like Blue Nile on the lovers' suicide song, "Love is my condition". Synthetic, sensuous, sensationalist, Sister Bliss and Maxi Jazz are sticking to what they do brilliantly: scoring 2am club anthems for the sore-footed, heavy-hearted and light-headed.
While other musicians tell stories as metaphors for sex, Faithless uses sex as a metaphor for our stories, digging up the dark stuff we hide away under the covers of pleasure. Some people might say its time has passed, but I can still get off on that.
And plus: The worthwhile two-disc version offers remixes of "Not Going Home" by Eric Prydz (screepy), Armin Van Buuren (housey) and Rollo & Sister Bliss (scrunchy), an overly long Mync mix of "Sun to Me", and a pretty crude bonus track, "Happy" (more "wired within an inch of cardiac arrest").