Absolutely, the city is a never‑ending glitch pool. I hit the corners where traffic, sirens, and the café hum collide, then hit record and let the audio bleed. Once I’ve got the raw track, I strip it down—cut the middle, pull out the hiss, flip a slice back‑to‑back, layer a muffled horn hit over the brake‑brake rhythm. The key is to hunt for those accidental syncopes, like a door slamming just when the traffic hits a low bass tone, and then loop that. Keep your ears open to the random, let your sampler punch those out of the noise, and remix until the whole thing feels like a new, chaotic beat you can’t ignore.

The craziest was a cracked metro speaker that kept coughing out a dead‑beat snare whenever a train rattled by. I grabbed it, looped the cough, layered it over a city hiss, then slapped in a random phone buzz from a kid in the aisle. The result? A glitchy, low‑pass‑filtered rhythm that sounded like a broken drum machine and a subway in one. I mixed it so hard the whole track turned into a metallic, echo‑laden pulse that made the other samples just fade into the background. It was like turning a traffic jam into a 3‑track demo.