On her fourth album, Tehran-born, Vienna-based sound artist and composer Rojin Sharafi delivers a deeply original sonic experience. O.O.Orifice sees Sharafi investigate the liminal spaces left behind by “cuts”. The album “explores the space of ‘in-between’ – the distance of ‘before’ and ‘after’ as it pertains to a life-altering event – the moment that creates a cut.”

Frequently complex, abrasive and improvisational, Sharafi’s technical mastery of acoustic, analogue and electronic elements does not overshadow or replace an emotional engagement. Surreal moments of delicate, unsettling beauty are just as regular as cinematic bursts of intensity, making for a project that feels both deeply authentic and universally resonant.

The album opens with the strange, elongated vocals of ‘Othered Bodies’. Distant electric guitar riffs screech and swell, layered with feedback and distortion, eventually giving way to a plodding bass beat. It’s a forceful introduction, richly textured and ever-shifting in its soundscape. Crackling vinyl and reverberating guitar refrains evoke shades of metal or punk rock, but the acoustic elements are contrasted by eerie, high-pitch electronic tones. Obscure vocal fragments layer throughout – singing, groaning, giggling, and at times, almost resembling Mr. Bean. These moments are guided into a realm of magical strangeness by faintly hostile, hovering drones.

The crackling ambiance carries into ‘Gwat, Pt.1’ – a title conspicuous for its lack of a counterpart. It’s an abrasive second track. Siren-like tones oscillate with an unsettling urgency as a pounding beat sporadically materialises, quickly dissolving into distorted noise which grows ever more violent and incoherent. It constitutes a thoroughly unsettling combination, as hissing noises fade the track into the disruptive ‘Scherz’.

Here, booming kick drums and crispy snares engage in perpetual conflict with spiralling keyboard riffs. Each element operates almost in isolation, refusing to coalesce into a predictable groove or unified emotion. Yet, in its jazz-inspired execution, it works – partly anchored by an intermittent bass beat acting as a metronome, but mostly through the sheer sense of joyous improvisation that drives the track forward.

‘Kavire Queer’ follows as the album’s centrepiece – a seven-minute tour de force. Microtonal chimes shimmy alongside Iranian santur melodies, woven through cascading waves of ambiance, noise and sounds reminiscent of dentist tools.

Microtonality might evoke a sense of dissonance or a lack of cultural specificity for some, but it has been more widely embraced within Iranian music and the wider region. Sharafi appears intent on exploring these ‘in-between’ sonic zones, accessing the liminal spaces that exist between semitones; “The cut creates a new space. An in-between space that disrupts the unity of order.” Her intent seems not to unsettle the listener merely for difficulty’s sake, but to illicit distinctive sensations more accessible through deeply destabilising sounds. Such becomes apparent through the oddly emotional qualities that these noisy, unique compositions transmit.

By this point, the formula for each track can be better understood through texture rather than rigidly consistent instrumentation or recurring ideas. ‘The Erotic (As Power)’ borrows elements from trance and gabber, compounded by relentless voices and wobbly, characterful synths. It’s dense, at times intimidatingly oblique, yet it never fails to remain engaging. For an album that explores the cuts we leave on our bodies, metaphorical or otherwise, it maintains a surprising sense of fun. The breathless synths gradually wash out as the track fades away, only for a few stray sounds to resurface, leaking back into the mix, before a surreal, playful “oopsie.”

The synths bleed into ‘Bye Binaries’, paired with rolling vocal fragments and reversed tones that evoke a sense of departure. The track epitomises a hallmark of the album – a feeling of “how did we get here?”. ‘Bye Binaries’ sounds entirely different at two minutes than it does at four, yet the progression is organic and seamless. What begins as almost uplifting gradually darkens, transforming into something strange and beautiful, yet it is not simplistic to decipher how that change is brought about. Elongated vocals cut off one another as they layer over cinematic walls of sub-bass. It becomes a hauntingly intricate soundscape – Sharafi is perhaps at her most intriguing when deploying such vocal experiments. As the track draws to a close, the sound of waves gently washes over, fading it into silence.

‘Bleeding Salt (A Tribute To)’ anchors its progression of whining synths with the now familiar metronomic bass beat. ‘Me Ghosting Me’ builds on this idea – its heartbeat is an interplay of two sets of hand percussion, galloping along in an out-of-sync rhythm that constantly shifts and realigns.

The closing track ‘Mon Amour’, offers a more mellow mix of acoustic instruments and ambient background noise, punctuated by kick drum thumps and low bass rumbles. As rich and textured as any other track on O.O.Orifice, it serves as an effective conclusion, gradually winding down with sounds reminiscent of rainfall and the quiet commotion of a band packing up their gear after a performance.

Album Image Credit: Hessam Samavatian @ PTP