Soma

Soma creates a sonic world that feels like a lost transmission from a mid-century bunker. It is a dense, rhythmic blend of electronic precision and organic grit, where the hiss of old tape meets the steady pulse of a drum machine. The music carries a heavy sense of narrative, though it remains entirely instrumental, evoking the tension of a Cold War thriller or the vast, lonely expanses of a dystopian desert.

What truly sets this project apart is the interplay between David Thrussell's industrial cynicism and Pieter Bourke's rhythmic elegance. They don't just use synthesizers; they weave in 'found' sounds that give the tracks a tactile, lived-in quality. There is a persistent feeling of being watched, a subtle paranoia that makes the melodies feel like coded messages hidden within layers of atmospheric noise and cinematic percussion.

For those new to their sound, the 1990s output is the essential starting point, particularly where the influence of Fourth World music meets the grit of the Melbourne underground. It is music that demands a good pair of headphones and a willingness to get lost in the shadows of its complex, murky arrangements.