Faster

The opening riff hits like a lit match dropped on gasoline — a snarling, overdriven guitar tone that crackles with impatience and hunger. The tempo is relentless, pushed forward by a drummer who plays like they're being chased, while the bass throbs with a low-frequency urgency that you feel in your sternum before you process it intellectually. Samantha Fish's voice is the centerpiece — raw, gritty, soaked in whiskey and want, delivering every line like she's daring the song to keep up with her. There's a physicality to her vocal performance that borders on athletic; she doesn't just sing, she attacks. The lyrical current is pure appetite and acceleration, the desire for more of everything and the refusal to slow down for anyone's comfort, rendered without apology or self-consciousness. It sits firmly in the contemporary blues-rock explosion alongside artists like Fish's frequent collaborators and peers, but her guitar work — blistering, fluid, technically ferocious — puts her in a category that demands its own shelf. This is gasoline music: for speeding tickets, for the moment you decide to stop being careful, for volume knobs that only turn one direction.