Kate Molleson
The Guardian
April 2015

Whether architects like it or not, buildings will be scruffed up by the humans who use them. The same goes for music, and Iannis Xenakis—architect as well as supremely mathematical composer—loved the unruly energy whipped up by what he called "faithfulness, pseudo-faithfulness and unfaithfulness" in rhythm. He wrote for percussion in a way that demands near mechanical perfection, but it's that "near" that's the crux; it's what makes his dizzyingly intricate pieces so seductive. For her third studio album, percussionist Kuniko (yep, the kind of artist who goes by a single name) takes on the 1978 dance score Pléïades, and treats its effervescent textures to a loose, sensual swing. Who knows what the spatially obsessed Xenakis would have thought of her overdubbing the multiple parts of the sixxen (an instrument of Xenakis's own devising), and it isn't a hugely muscular performance, but the delicacy and sway are enticing. Also on the disc is Rebonds, a 1988 percussion repertoire stalwart that Kuniko plays with a subdued, affectionate touch.