Summer doesn't announce itself. It creeps in through cracked windows and lingers on skin long after the sun sets. It asks nothing of you but surrender. The South London DJ and producer, born Wilf Auty, raised in the fields of Devon before migrating to the city's sprawl, has crafted four tracks that move like heat haze off tarmac: shimmering, hypnotic, impossible to rush. This is house music stripped of its impatience. Rolling rhythms push forward with the inevitability of tide. Driving basslines push through the mix like warm air through an open car window. Something that feels like the longest day of the year. That moment when you realise the light's been golden for hours and nobody's checked the time. Wigs' sets at Meanwhile have become the stuff of whispered recommendation: progressive, modern, emotionally intelligent selections that build through patience rather than force. This EP is the studio distillation of that philosophy. Four tracks. No filler. Each one: unfurling. The reward comes for those who wait. The groove reveals itself in layers. The pulse becomes a feeling you can't quite name but recognise immediately, that elastic stretch of a summer evening when time loses its edges.