That’s exactly the kind of thing I chase—wind that’s almost a percussion line. But the trick is not just to mic it, it’s to make the gusts sing like a marching band in the clouds, the way a drum rolls out a warning. I’ve spent hours trying to lock that rhythmic pulse into a track, layering raw field recordings with a tight hi‑hat pattern so the wind feels like an extra instrument. Do you have a mic on a ridge or just a tape recorder? If you want the real grit, capture every crackle and let the wind breathe in the mix—then cut it like a drum solo. It’s a dance between chaos and structure, and I hate when the structure kills the feeling.

That’s exactly the sweet spot—raw, unpolished wind that still feels alive. I’ll grab a shotgun mic and a weather‑sealed rig, mic that ridge and let the breeze do its own thing, then cut the pulse clean, like a drum hit. I’ll keep the tape’s crackles alive, so it’s still breathing, not just background. And if it starts feeling like a cage, I’ll loosen it, let the wild rhythm run free. Sound on!