The opening is already moving before it feels fully there: a bright electric organ figure locking into a quick drum pulse, dry and forward, with the low end already under the ride. No slow gather. The body finds the pocket almost at once—a lean, martial motor that stays light on its feet and refuses to thicken into drag. Guitar sits as edge rather than lead; bass is present weight, not a separate announcement.

Morrison’s voice enters as another surface—midrange grain, close, slightly dry—riding the same forward lean rather than floating above it. He pushes harder on the refrain, projection rising while the band holds its settled grid; the attack brightens without the floor giving way. Between lines the organ keeps flashing little melodic turns, keeping the top restless even when the pocket stays comfortable.

When the voice steps out, the organ takes the middle of the room. It winds and climbs over the same driving rhythm section—drums and bass locked, surface denser with the keyboard’s faster runs—until the solo peaks and then eases back into a hypnotic hold. The groove doesn’t drop; it just settles deeper, almost circular, weight still present under a thinner melodic skin. Accents lean a little around the barline, enough to keep the body captured without fully relaxing into ease.

Voice returns softer at first, almost spoken against the organ chords and steady kit, then thickens again into repeated chant pressure. The band answers by filling forward: denser surface, harder vocal mass, the refrain driven until the top edge starts to strain. By the last stretch the whole arrangement is a wall of forward motion—organ glare, drum motor, voice pushing past clean placement into raw projection—still on that same fast pocket, still refusing collapse.

Pressure finally releases in a short, sharp decay. Pattern loosens, body lock lets go, and the track empties into silence without a long fade. The motor simply stops.