Giglian La9 ((link)) -

In the crowded arena of hypercars—where horsepower figures blur into the stratosphere and top speeds become mere dickering points—the Giglian LA9 arrived with a different mission: to unsettle the establishment without making a sound.

Under the sculpted hood lies a tri-motor setup producing a combined 1,250 metric horsepower. But the party trick isn't the 0-60 mph time (1.9 seconds, for the record). It’s the Active Sound Sculpture (ASS) system. Rather than mimicking a V8 or emitting a spaceship whine, the LA9 projects a curated "mechanical symphony"—a mix of titanium gear whine, synthesized harmonics from the inverter, and the subtle thwump of the active suspension pistons. Giglian calls it "the sound of electricity bleeding."

In a world of shouters, the LA9 is the confident whisper—and that makes it the most terrifying car on the road.

The Giglian LA9 is not for the spec-sheet warrior. It is for the collector who is tired of being deafened, who wants 1,000 horsepower without the theater of flame-spitting exhausts. It is a paradox: a brutalist sculpture that whispers, a silent machine that sings, and a hypercar that respects the noise ordinances of the Swiss villages it will inevitably pass through at 7 a.m.

Unveiled in a nondescript warehouse outside Turin, the LA9 is the brainchild of former Pininfarina aerodynamicist Elara Giglian. While the name suggests a lineage of roaring V12s, the "LA9" is, shockingly, a fully electric hyper GT. But to dismiss it as another silent missile would be to miss the point entirely.

Step inside, and you find the most analogue cabin of any modern hypercar. The digital screens are hidden behind sliding walnut panels. To start the car, you don't press a button; you rotate a brass choke lever on the transmission tunnel. The seats are naked carbon fiber with woven wool pads, rejecting the Alcantara trend. It feels like a Bauhaus armchair strapped to a lightning bolt.