One acoustic guitar on its own. The picking hand sets a pulse, quick and even — a whole groove carried in a single instrument.

A light bass and a soft drum pulse slide in underneath, and the floor arrives without a push.

A voice enters, dry and close, small against the guitar, laying its phrases easily on the same pulse.

The pocket has settled: voice, bass, and drums all leaning on the same pulse, nothing rushing anywhere.

The first heavy lift hits: distorted guitars fill the track, the drums bear down, and the voice breaks into a scream.

The voice picks the pattern back up, even phrases with room around them over the unchanged floor.

The heavy break-open returns. Guitars and drums come down hard again, and the voice tears into a scream.

Then just as fast the weight is gone — the band snaps back to its easy hold, and the voice goes soft again.

The light groove runs on alone for a stretch, then the voice slips back in, small against it.

And the heavy band lands again — driving drums, thick guitars, the voice back in its torn register.

Now the voice lifts into a belted register, pressing forward over the driving band.

The drive falls away; one last chord rings into silence.