Swift synth beat shimmers, some guitar sparks fly by and by. At the two minute mark strings rise, and Sleet scrambles up and up with the synth while two guitars shed splinters of thought. At the four minute mark it gets real with the bass glowering darkly into the scene. Sleet peels back to a stone cold beat and the bass chugs it along. The guitar gasps gaping scrapes of song. A few shy synth notes offer a melody with a dignified end. Three steps down in a frigid funk descent. Sleet throws new beats back and forth, while the guitar climbs and the synth darts hither and fro. At the eight minute mark the bass comes up with some cold throes, wracked with wonder. The guitar and synth shake it well, then Sleet gathers his children home. Things start to unravel around eleven minutes in, and Sleet pulls back to insistent snare pops. The guitar takes off for the stars, the beat builds, the bass rebounds, the underlying synth surfaces, keys and bass explore a drone, until the bass remains, climbing a scale of eternal whatever.
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