A single guitar wails like a siren, alone, its pitch climbing and falling.

The band kicks in together — drums, bass, guitar — and the pace is set for good.

A raw, rasping voice arrives, riding right down the middle of the beat.

The voice stays dry and close, a sandpaper shout sitting flat on the pulse.

The lines break into short, spaced pieces, each one landing alone.

Another verse rolls in — same drive, no letup underneath.

The spaced phrasing returns, one short line at a time.

The voice steps out, and a thin, biting lead guitar takes the front.

The solo stays high and scratchy, sawing across the top while the band grinds on.

The voice drops back in, square on the same driving floor.

The wail from the opening circles back through the break.

A barked aside cuts through, and the last verses ride in with doubled voices behind the lead.

The shout widens into a gang — stacked voices answering back.

The voices break into a repeating close, layer over layer, as the whole mix eases into the fade.