Hermetic, paranoid and introspective in equal measures, Sohrab’s debut album is a perfect fit with the approach and ethos of the Touch label. A reverie of half-remembered sounds, glowering atmospheres, and enigmatic Jon Wozencroft photographs hint at and allude to the isolation that Iranian Sohrab has experienced in his life - these elements have been the stock-in-trade for the Touch label since its inception in 1982. Sohrab is named after character in an epic Persian poem called the Shahnameh, written around 1000AD. Currently, Sohrab is undergoing the lengthy and frustrating process of applying for political asylum in Germany, after a Touch showcase at Berlin’s iconic Berghain club in October 2010. This was Sohrab’s first live show since his debut public performance in a formative punk band in Tehran, which was broken up by the Iranian police on the look out for a three-chord revolution. Withdrawing into a culturally isolated existence following this experience, Sohrab’s weapons of resistance employed on A Hidden Place are the sampler, Reason 3, a midi controller and Ambrosia recording software.
A Hidden Place could have been made by an introverted bedroom auteur in any number of countries, apart from some hollering in Farsi throughout the title track, and some vaguely Middle-Eastern timbres that seep into the album. A Hidden Place wears its creator’s musical influences in the manner of a debut album, although I wonder if Sohrab’s cultural isolation extended to a lack of exposure to Fennesz, Biosphere and Tim Hecker? There’s a subtle narrative arc throughout proceedings – from warmer, more hopeful tones into a paranoid liminal headspace and eventually emerging into a promising new dawn; it’s inevitable that that certain facets of A Hidden Place reflect the story of their creator. Opening track “Susanna” slowly builds into a hypnotic Gas-eous subtle techno pulse, also reminiscent of the mighty Chain Reaction label’s Grecian artist, Fluxion, and The Sight Below. There’s a sense of tension and disassociation present on “Himmel & Tehran”, with tolling bells and queasy loops abrading themselves, as oppression and melancholy seeps into your very bones. The title track reminds me of parts of Philip Jeck’s “An Ark for the Listener”, as a cold wind blows through the clucking chickens and hysterical hollers. The palate of “Zarrin” is similar, yet a lighter mood prevails, with traces of hope and redemption hinting that an end may be possible to Sohrab’s metaphysical isolation. Hopefully Sohrab has not had to return to a lonely existence in Iranian society, and can develop a broader sonic palate on future releases.
Oliver Laing
