The recording opens with its engine already running: orchestral strings hammering out chords in a fast, even tramp, brass jabs scattered across the top at odd angles. The body finds that tramp almost instantly, locked in before there's much else to hold onto — though the accents lean across the barline, landing on corners of the beat rather than its center. Within the first ten seconds high woodwinds are darting through, trills and short calls stitched over the pounding. Then the floor gives way entirely: the pounding breaks off, and a bassoon is left wandering low over plucked strings.

The bassoon goes dark and unhurried; a flute joins at 0:20 with a dancing, fluttering line, and soon reeds and winds are weaving folk-patterned counterpoint while an oboe drifts, pastoral, above a soft ostinato. The pulse never quite leaves — it loosens from a stomp to a touch — and sustained reed warmth dominates the surface, almost no metal anywhere. Half a minute in, a trumpet jabs the first hard edge in twenty seconds, and the climb begins: woodwind runs swirl upward, horns lean in, the chordal hammering returns with brass bursts striking through it.

The upper winds take it further, screaming at the top of their register over the driving strings — and then, at 0:48, another shear takes everything loud away, leaving low strings and muted horns grinding out a marching figure. That quiet lasts seconds. Four horns climb into a heavy ascending folk theme over rumbling timpani, and at 0:56 it breaks open into the fullest sound yet: the whole orchestra behind the brass, cymbals crashing. A minute in, the biggest weight has already been shown once.

And then it isn't kept. At 1:00 the climax cuts off mid-breath and a galloping ostinato in violas and flutes carries the piece into its longest stretch of pure motion — bassoons and clarinets trading frantic little figures above the string motor, chromatic flute cascades tumbling across the top, brass stabs punching holes in the whirl. The body rides the whole way and is never offered a seat. The step down that follows is gentler than the earlier shears: low strings and bassoons creeping with weight gathering quietly beneath them, high shimmering harmonics in the upper strings, woodwind solos drifting over tremolo, trombone glissandi and muted trumpet calls sliding through until the layers knot together.

From that knot the music travels in short waves — a climb, a sag, another climb — tension banked and spent every few bars without ever being fully discharged. Around 2:16 something settles anyway: the busiest layers lock into one usable stride, a genuine pocket that holds a full twenty seconds before the pressure is let out again. One more exhale, one more creep, and at 2:48 weight returns under the motion and the pocket reforms for good — the deepest body-hold of the whole recording, and for once the most livable, the stride wide enough to actually sit in.

That floor holds straight through the final stretch, the steadiest plane the piece ever lays down, until at 3:24 the whole machine stops cold. A last bloom of hall reverb, and then nothing.