Oxygen Riot from Whose Air by Brasspire

A sudden, unified exhalation from two hundred voices ignites this track. Getting that many lungs to contract simultaneously, then release into a feral demand, was a distinct process during recording, but it sets the stage before a single instrument hits. Tension builds unyielding, with brass volleys clashing against guitars tuned down to registers that vibrate through the floorboards. The rhythm section, grounded by taiko-schooled tom rolls, maintains an unforgiving pace, never allowing reprieve. The core demand, "Whose air is this?", resonates not just as a hook but as a direct challenge, amplified by the sheer force of collective will. The bridge, slowing to a half-tempo drag, exposes the stark reality behind lines like "Forty coins price each trembling cough," laying bare the dehumanizing cost of corporate indifference. Then the tempo snaps back, propelled by hydrophone trumpet screeches and piercing bari sax, affirming that "Breath beats profit—final writ." This is the sound of bodies reclaiming what was stolen, a visceral push from suffocating dread into a shared, cathartic triumph.

We're Brasspire. We forge breath into sound. Horns punch, drums pound. Our voice isn't sung, it's exhaled raw.