There is a certain frequency that caresses your bones and removes you from suffering. I always try to find it and realise a new journey and work has been made while I was searching.

Dario Di Francesco’s cryptic introduction for his newest release on Sono Space doesn’t shed much light on the actual sounds that are heard, but it does add an interesting element of unintentionality. Are the recordings that make up Sistema an inadvertent result of Di Francesco’s search for this “certain frequency”? Or is that frequency an unattainable end, which he recognizes and simply states it as an abstract purpose to cast what is actually presented in an unusual light? I doubt I’ll ever know for sure, but I will say that the sounds and textures collected to form Sistema do their fair share of “caressing”; the Italian sound artist’s quiet compositions are constructed from the barest of hums, rustles, and taps (with the exception of that jarring saxophone loop in “Cromo”), sketching out a frail and insubstantial yet undeniably physical environment. Interjections of soft clatters and sweeping scrapes act as hooks that prevent the more delicate drones from drifting away completely, which gives rise to interesting contrasts on tracks like “Cerio,” where a pillowy, tonal air current lurks behind a dainty din of clinking metal.