Bright piano alone, already swinging on a tight left-hand pulse.

A dry midrange voice steps in over the same piano grid, close and unhurried.

The voice climbs and hardens; phrases land with more chest and bite while the piano keeps its floor.

Short shouted cries punch through, thicker and higher, answered by a second voice mass in the room.

Voice cuts away. Piano takes the whole foreground—faster figures, denser right hand, same relentless left-hand motor.

Hand drums lock under the piano, adding a dry percussive layer that thickens the groove without slowing it.

Voice re-enters hard over the stacked piano and drums, grain forward, riding the thicker pocket.

The cries stretch longer now—more air at the top, more strain—while drums and piano keep hammering the grid.

One last held cry, then the whole band stops cold—decay only.