This album came out of the things that keep us restless and angry. Out of the noise stuck in our heads, the burnout, and the voices that never really go away.

Every track was recorded raw — some crawl slow, some hit heavy, some just explode. They come from real places: a lonely motel room, a burned-out cinema, a dead-end office shift, or the silence of a forest that feels alive.

For us, this isn’t just a set of songs. It’s how we fight back, how we confess, and how we keep standing when everything else feels like it’s falling apart.

Threadbare Engine

These songs come from quiet street corners—where an old keyboard hums under fading lights, and worn-out voices drift like late prayers. You’ll hear slow footsteps, the crackle of a tired tape, and a streetlamp that no longer shines right. This isn’t just nostalgia—it’s memory still breathing. Music for those who’ve sat alone and heard the city whisper back.

’57 Revival Tape

It’s all sweat, brass, and swagger on this corner. Each track struts with crooked rhythm—shouted from rooftops, stomped into sidewalk cracks, and wired with something too loud to stay polite. The bells don’t wait, the horns don’t ask. This is street sound with shoes scuffed and voices raised, born to move bodies and bend the night.

Funk ’72

Concrete Pulse was built for sweat and steel. Each track hits like a heartbeat under the bar—loud, heavy, and relentless. This isn’t background noise; it’s your training partner, keeping you locked in when the reps get slow and the weight feels heavier.

3AM Set Rep

Analog Drift plays like a quiet night with an old tape still spinning. The music moves slowly, keeping the room warm and the mind steady. It’s made to sit with you—while you study, read, or just let the hours pass softly.

Threadbare Engine

Kafha Studio