A steady beat starts right away, not fast but carrying weight. The sound is dark and warm from the first second, and the rhythm feels like running.

The first phrase drops back. The line settles lower, and the rhythm keeps going underneath.

Another phrase retreats here, the second time the line has dropped back.

A wordless soprano enters above the orchestra. That's Edda Dell'Orso, not singing words, just a voice rising over the strings.

The strings hold the lower line, percussion keeps the beat, and the soprano rides above. Three layers at different heights, none crowding the others.

The phrase drops away. The beat keeps going, but the top of the sound pulls back.

Same material returns, pushed harder. The soprano is higher, the strings thicker behind her, and the beat hasn't changed.

The voice holds sustained notes above the orchestra now, sitting higher than it did in the first pass.

The soprano is wide open on long held notes, the orchestra at its densest behind her. The beat underneath hasn't eased once.

The held sound breaks apart. After nearly three minutes of continuous driving, the layers stop sustaining together.

And then it stops. Not a fade, a cut. Everything was at full brightness, and then silence. The wanting is still in your ears with nowhere to go.