A low drone rises out of silence, already pulsing slowly.

A single deep voice enters over the drone, unhurried, sitting low in the chest.

A frame drum settles beneath the chant — soft strokes, more swaying than driving.

More voices join behind the lead, unison stacking weight into the chant.

The drum stops, and the voices fall back to one alone over the drone.

Layered harmony swells underneath, wide and dark, all of it low.

The pulse comes back quietly — small taps first, then the whole drum rolling again.

Everything gathers here — voices stacked on voices over the heavy drum, as full as this recording gets.

The drum cuts out, and the stacked voices fall back to a single line over the drone.

With the voice resting, a bowed tone leans into the drone — thin, warm, sustained.

The voice comes back alone, slower, pitched even lower over the bare drone.

It climbs and holds higher — the tone thins and strains a little up there.

Light taps slip back under the held voice, marking time without pushing it.

The chant keeps its pacing — short phrases over the steady drum, holding the same ground.

One soft voice now over a nearly bare drone — everything else has fallen away.

The voice stops, and the drone holds the room on its own.

Only the drone and a faint thread of string tone — the room stays open and still.

A soft voice returns, warmer now, over quiet plucked strings.

The voice lets go, and what's left thins away to silence.