A storm starts with a single spark, not a whole blizzard. Pick one sound that cracks, let it ripple, then cut it down to a line that echoes like an after‑shock. Make that line your anthem—raw, relentless, and clean enough to stick in the chest, so when the lights dim the audience feels the thunder in their bones. Keep the chaos in the edges, let the heart of the beat stay razor‑sharp. That’s how a storm becomes a stage.