Catholic World Report

The first thing you notice is the tempo. Kariv doesn’t drastically speed Kylie up; instead, he alters the weight of the beat. The four-on-the-floor kick drum becomes heavier, more industrial—reminiscent of late-2010s tech house but with a rave-ready distortion. He strips away the original’s airy pads in the verses, leaving behind only a skeletal, throbbing bassline and Kylie’s vocal, now echoing as if she’s singing from the bottom of a well.

But the Sagi Kariv Remix? That’s where the tension snaps .

In a landscape where pop remixes often mean adding a generic “deep house” shuffle, Sagi Kariv has delivered something rare: a functional, DJ-friendly weapon that also works as an art object. This isn’t a remix for radio; it’s for the second room of a festival, the sweat-drenched peak hour, or a solitary drive through a neon-lit city at midnight.

Then comes the drop. Where the original Tension builds to a euphoric, almost synthwave release, Kariv pivots into a loop-driven, hypnotic groove. He isolates that “do-do-do-do” hook and turns it into a stuttering, percussive weapon. It’s no longer a melody; it’s a trigger. The remix lives in the space between anxiety and ecstasy—the true definition of its title.

Sagi Kariv, the Tel Aviv-based producer and DJ known for his work with labels like Kontor Records and his ability to weaponize bass music for the mainstream dancefloor, doesn’t simply remix Kylie. He rewires her. He takes the polished, laser-sharp original and shoves it into a dark, pulsating warehouse at 3 AM.