In The Dungeon Launches The Vault Series with Powerful First Drop ‘Crypto’

In The Dungeon, started by producer and filmmaker ‘ODXC’, is defined by a discipline that shows up both in impressive streaming metrics and in its power to shape taste. The catalogue has already hit over 1.2 million independent streams, and the music is played, featured, and shared by major players like GRM Daily, Link Up TV , Wordplay Magazine, Reprezent FM, Kiss FM, MOBO, BBC Radio 1Xtra, and BBC London. These aren’t just names to drop; they’re proof that the work is travelling widely without ever compromising the unique voice that made it powerful in the first place. The Vault series is built on this foundation, distilling this proven approach into a repeatable, high-quality format.

Consider this the first episode of an unfolding story. Each entry is treated like a finished, self-contained masterpiece, measured not by broad claims, but by direct connection: the quality of the production, the clarity of the video, how the crowd responds, and how fast it takes off online. The video frame is deliberately designed to serve the artist, not steal the show. The visuals are clean and composed – every frame feels deliberate and the editing respects the artists’ flow so that their true intention always registers. The behind-the-scenes footage? That’s evidence, showing the process without needing applause. The core idea is simple enough to be used again and again, but tough enough to keep the standards sky-high.

“Crypto” kicks off the series with a choice that immediately proves the concept. South London’s SH4YZ and East London’s Chayz3r share the stage, with ODXC producing and directing. Opening with two artists trading bars isn’t a complex device; it’s a stress test that shines a bright light on their chemistry, removing any room to hide behind elaborate staging. The environment is intentionally minimal, meaning the artists’ presence does the work, and every choice is right out in the open. SH4YZ assumes the middle with effortless control, posture locked, gaze steady, delivering lines with precision, not rushing them. Chayz3r enters on a sharp angle with purpose, his pace measured so the energy increases without ever feeling confusing. They pass the line between them with such focus that you can really feel the bounce and play between the two artists. Every line lands cleanly; the silences are part of the rhythm. What you see is mastery, not hesitancy, and the camera gives that clarity space to breathe. You can envision the pre-planning for the music video, how the colour grading would be, the time of day, location, everything was definitely thought out but also with the intention for it to come together so effortlessly on screen.

The writing in “Crypto” takes the big ideas of risk and reward and translates them into real-life stakes. There’s no need to label the meaning because you can already feel it. It arrives through timing, through small, restrained gestures, and through lines delivered with unforced emphasis. Late in the piece, SH4YZ makes a tiny shift in stance, and Chayz3r answers it with an exact, matching step; it’s not flash, it’s two professionals acknowledging each other, in rhythm. The title’s financial undertones don’t become a dusty metaphor, they become a theme about decision, exposure, and consequence, all played out in their posture, diction, and back-and-forth.

On streaming platforms, the real signals that matter are clean and measured. Kiss FM plays it; Wordplay Magazine and Pit LDN cover it; the view counters climb to meaningful numbers without any theatrical moves, over twenty-eight thousand streams on Spotify and fifty thousand views on YouTube in the early window. Think of these figures as receipts, not just confetti.

They show the release is landing with the right editors, DJs, and viewers, and it’s holding their attention long enough to make a difference. The secondary pattern is even more revealing: DJs are filing the track into their main folders instead of just sending fire emojis; editors are responding with firm placements and timing, not vague praise; promoters are asking for a booking deck. That’s a genuine circulation, not just a momentary spike.

What allows this to happen is ITD’s step-by-step commitment: Artist first, then the song, then the visual frame, then the campaign. The music and video are the star, and the rollout acts like a smooth, reliable delivery system, not a circus. This is why partners like GRM Daily and Link Up TV continue to feature the work without hesitation, why Reprezent FM and 1Xtra talk about the artists like they belong there, and why BBC London and MOBO mentions happen as a matter of fact. There’s no forced change in tone to try and appeal to a wider audience; there is a consistent, sharper, more trustworthy lane that partners are eager to work with.

For artists, it’s a rare space where discipline meets opportunity For artists, the proposition is challenging but fair” with “For artists, it’s a rare space where discipline meets opportunity. Show up with a clear vision and the discipline to perform under an honest spotlight; the series provides a scalable platform without ever asking you to sell out your identity. For editors and curators, the value is total reliability: a visual grammar that doesn’t need fixing, punctual delivery, and links that always work. For festivals and promoters, the read is practical: artists who can set the mood of a room instead of causing chaos, transitions that make sense within a larger bill, and pauses perfectly timed to earn a reload, not demand one. For brands with great judgment, alignment feels like real taste because the imagery is premium by craft, not just by logo, and the audience response is built organically before it’s amplified.

SH4YZ is a perfect example of how the system rewards efficiency. Being centre-stage attracts focus without needing to beg for it; lines land clean because nothing gets in their way; under simple, natural daylight lighting that favours precision, any false move would look obvious, and none appears. Chayz3r carries the edge with his angles, subtle shifts in weight, and measured speed that translate clearly on camera without a blur. Their connection remains sharp at every scale (whether you’re watching full-screen with the volume maxed, on silent autoplay in a feed, or booming through a venue rig). Their body language tells the same story consistently in each context, which is why the piece travels so well.

ODXC’s production decisions are a mirror of visual control. The beat structure is simple enough to support the lyrics and firm enough to maintain structure; the camera work favours straight lines and clean planes so your eye isn’t forced to deal with clutter. When a release is this exposed, any weakness surfaces quickly; “Crypto” is built so the intention is carried without the need for crutches. Track and picture fit together with the seamlessness of choices made early and kept (which is the practical mission of The Vault: one crystal-clear statement at a time, delivered complete).

Context makes the present moment clear without needing fanfare. ITD began with ODXC’s first three releases, a working experiment to see if a tight, disciplined team could cut through the noise effectively while keeping its identity intact. The numbers and placements confirmed it worked. The Vault is simply formalising that successful method and making it stronger; each entry stands alone but speaks across the whole series. They aren’t sequels; they’re conversations. The follow-up doesn’t have to be louder than the opener; it just has to meet the bar and extend the trust already built. The cumulative effect is a ledger of proven decisions that cohere into a genuine, lasting standard.

“Crypto” achieved exactly what a first entry should. The anticipated performances would connect deeply in the room, platforms respond naturally without inflation, and the figures confirm the reach without dragging the release into a chase for trends. The standard is set and visible, and the path forward is continuity, not a constant scramble to reset. ITD has created a format that doesn’t apologise for clarity. Artists step in and are seen at their absolute best; audiences encounter work that respects their attention; and partners can read the intent without needing a translation guide. If The Vault’s premise is that the underground can stage itself seriously and still be authentic, then episode one is a precise, powerful proof of concept.