In every way except its length, Megatrap is just like its predecessors: a collection of puristic and absolutely gigantic-sounding rave tools. Its full-on delivery might seem the opposite of subtle, but each track reflects careful craftsmanship and a deep understanding of what creates energy on the dance floor. There's a great sense of motion in each of the drum patterns: the 4/4 bangers have the momentum of an elephant in full sprint, while the dubbier selections bounce with enormous heft. Small, crafty flourishes make them better still—consider the way barely audible sub-bass undulations create a feeling of sustained pressure on "It's A Love Thing" (revisited for a third time here as "The XXX Mono Mix"), or how in the intro of "Think It," the fantastically plump kick drum stumbles into place a moment earlier than expected. As always, Pawlowitz attacks the all-important kick drum with special panache. Some are brutal with a bit of distortion; others feel smooth, as if covered in leather; most are touched with reverb to create a colossal sense of scale. Every now and then, he'll throw in extra kicks on the offbeats, which, depending exactly where they're placed, can make the tracks more buoyant, more pummeling, or both.
But as heavy as Megatrap is, it's also impressively varied. A good chunk of the collection is euphoric breakbeat—"Megatrap (Real Mix)" only has a kick on the one, letting breaks (not "amen," mind you) fill the rest of the bar. A similar drum pattern appears on "The Higher (V2014)," but only in the second half—the rest is a beatless, shimmering blur of arpeggios. And then there's "Hex Factor," the record's explosive opening salvo, which combines Pawlowitz's UK fetish with his bludgeoning 4/4 thud ("Hex Pad," its drum-less counterpart, works as a soaring interlude).
An obvious criticism to be made of Megatrap is that it's more of the same, which it absolutely is—these nine tracks differ only superficially from past productions by Head High and his alter-egos. But to quibble about that would be to miss the point. As Pawlowitz puts it: "It's only tracks for the dance floor. That's it." In other words, club music relieved of the obligation to do anything other than work in a club. If Pawlowitz had his way, he wouldn't even have to take credit for these tracks—they'd simply exist for DJs and crowds to enjoy. Unfortunately for him, the secret's out, further cementing his place as one of techno's most effortlessly brilliant producers.