For all the proudly unconventional jus au eski being concocted by grime's resurged brigade of futurists, the instrumental wing of the genre have traditionally lent on a deviously simple formula for extra potency: light and dark, gloopy and gravelly, sweet and sour. A palpable naïveté existed in these early forays before it was wrenched away, but on "Springtime", London producer Mumdance beats a retreat, plonking the stylus in a romantic spot of indulgence that augurs well for the future.

Having snaked a path to the present day with Mad Decent-approved electro-dancehall hybrids, Mumdance now operates freely, unbeholden to grime's concrete strictures. You can hear that freedom in "Springtime"'s bubblegum flavour and winsome attitude; against lumbering sub-bass and snappy hats, the track awkwardly steps out before the infectious melodic lead takes hold, a ragtag assortment of giddily oscillating synth lines. The whole thing rides in a gleefully erratic manner, bending out of formation, undertaking one another, popping wheelies as they go. That momentum never falters, instead simply tailing off over the orange-hued horizon.