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A multi-platform production that explores the overlap between the digital and the organic through field recordings of Inuit throat singing may sound, on surface level, to be something that is a rather niche. However, Zoe Mc Pherson's exploration of this world on String Figures is a deeply rhythmic, immersive and forward-thinking piece of electronic- leaning music that remains just as danceable as it does experimental.
The album is fundamentally one of duality, exploring the traditional and the contemporary, organic and electronic, audio and visual, history and the future. Rooted in this duality is also a core theme around string being one of the most ancient and playful art forms and the seemingly infinite possibilities it offers in terms of shapes, structures and figures lines up with this as a trans-global art project. One that over time will involve video art, choreography, 3D motion design, macro film, instrumental and electronic sound. Although for now is being presented through an AV performance, films and a record with Mc Pherson collaborating with director Alessandra Leone.!
Over the seven tracks (which are laid out as chapters) the record explores glitchy electronics, dub-tinged grooves, polyrhythms, and a huge array of instruments that takes in quiet blasts of atonal sax alongside wonky synths. This of course cross-pollinates with the throat singing and experimental field recordings to create an utterly inimitable sonic sphere. For Mc Pherson it's about mixing worlds, histories and timeframes and she uses a 1991 quote from Laurie Spiegel to hit home how she has elaborated upon this original thought of history and future overlapping. 'Folk music is considered anonymous common property in a culture and that's what a lot of computer music and other kinds of music data may end up becoming.' However, there's also a purer reason for the exploration of these worlds and colliding them together. 'Basically I thought that electronic music that is only digital is a bit boring and as I'm connected to jazz music for many reasons, I wanted it to sound organic: real instrumentation, field recordings.'

Trauma Collective go out all guns blazing with a fierce offering by ascendant Italian producer Sciahriar Tavakoli aka Sciahri (Sublunar Records/Unknot). The Trauma EP is at once an obviously loyal tribute to the imprint platforming him, while being a visceral soundtrack to the gradual setting in of early morning lights. Wasting no time in exercising his sonic assault, opening cut "Hypnotism" will affect you much like its name suggests on this punishing, splintered- beat body basher, before pummelling you into submission on the strobed-out warehouse techno epic "Plastic Rain". He then ventures into the more abrasive shades of texture and gradient on the experimentally minded "Ava" until getting off-the-grid once more with a descent even deeper into the void, on the knackered closer "Dead Waves".

eturning with renewed force after Henning Baer's unbreakable debut LP, MANHIGH's sixth release comes from a name already well-known in techno circles. Sciahri is the Italian producer whose luminous 2014 debut on the celebrated Ilian Tape's ITX experimental series immediately announced his presence, followed by another on the label and two EPs for the highly-rated Black Opal offshoot of Opal Tapes by 2016. He was simultaneously occupied with his ambient-leaning UNKNOT duo with Emanuele Porcinai, better known as WSR on Samuel Kerridge's Contort label. 2017 saw the launch of his Sublunar imprint and a tripartite release from him featuring a more streamlined sound than the craggy broken-beat style familiar from Ilian Tape. Sciahri's MANHIGH EP opens with 'Demur', showcasing his most dour, industrial sounds, scraping metallic highs against the unrelenting impacts of reverberating kicks and subbass drone. 'Forbidden' holds its forces more in reserve, the cycling, mechanical soundscape maintaining a spacious, ambient aspect, worked against a broken rhythm more implied than explicitly stated. Returning to full intensity for 'Reliance', he tightly coils the core elements around deftly-deployed percussion and a militaristic, pounding rhythm in the bass and kicks. Henning Baer's reinterpretation of 'Demur' saves little from the original apart from its overriding tension, instead adding a layer of nearly-tonal pads and an unremitting acidic bass throb pushing forwards inexorably.