It's like discovering a rogue disco ball hidden in a forgotten record store, except instead of dusty surfaces, it’s polished chrome reflecting pure, unadulterated energy. We know absolutely nothing about Frank, and honestly? I think I prefer it that way. This track drops, a single, not some bloated album-behemoth, and suddenly the walls are sweating. Fun, like a sticky summer afternoon where you forget...

Del'Noire, the solo act of Matyascorvinus, isn't handing you a neatly wrapped package of sounds with "Tyler Down." Instead, it's more like finding a worn map tucked inside a book you forgot you owned. This single, a purely instrumental affair, wrestles with the echoes of trauma. Not your kind of predictable musical trauma either. No cheesy lightning strikes. No predictable sad violin. Here it...