Kangding Ray: Sonic Architectures and Cinematic Drones – An Interview with Metamyther

We begin in the wilds of Sichuan, where a river carves through mountains and light fractures across water—a place that lent its name to Kangding Ray. Here, the artist’s journey is not a straight line but a meandering current, shaped by a chance request for an alias and the serendipity of being present in a city whose name would become his own. The conversation reveals that Kangding Ray’s roots stretch back to rock music, with echoes of My Bloody Valentine and Nine Inch Nails still reverberating in his creative DNA. His early skepticism of electronic music dissolves as Berlin’s architectural landscape and sonic possibilities draw him into new territory.

Architecture, for Kangding Ray, is more than a profession left behind; it is a lens through which he views creativity itself. He describes architecture as a culture of synthesis, where disparate elements are woven together—a process mirrored in his approach to music. The discipline’s demand for broad knowledge and the orchestration of many talents finds resonance in his compositional process. Yet, he is careful to note that while the spirit of architecture informs his mindset, the day-to-day realities of both crafts remain distinct. The result is a sound that feels constructed yet organic, like a building that breathes.

The score for ‘Sirāt’ is a desert of sound—arid, brutal, and shimmering with mirage-like textures. Kangding Ray speaks of the film’s duality: the opening scenes throb with raw, diegetic techno, while the narrative gradually dissolves into ambient, spiritual soundscapes. This slow disintegration, from pounding rave to spectral drift, is not accidental but a deliberate narrative arc. The music becomes a character, expressing what dialogue cannot, especially as the film moves into its wordless, emotional depths.

Influences swirl like dust storms: Vangelis, Artemyev, and the minimalist ghosts of Tarkovsky’s cinema. Kangding Ray’s score is not simply a backdrop but an immersive presence, reflecting the environment’s harshness and the story’s allegorical weight. The process is one of risk and intuition—rolling the dice and hoping the music will resonate with audiences as deeply as it does with the creators. The sound is both landscape and guide, leading us through the film’s spiritual terrain.

Modular synthesis is the crucible where Kangding Ray’s sonic metals are forged. He reveals that much of the film’s signature drone work emerges from a handful of Make Noise modules—devices he credits as essential to his sound. The ARB reverb, QPAS, and the unpredictable feedback loops they enable, become the magnetic fields in which his drones swirl and evolve. He describes the process as a dance between analog unpredictability and digital precision, where the tactile act of filtering and shaping sound is as important as the notes themselves.

Tony Rolando, Make Noise’s lead designer, is named a genius—a rare accolade in a world where gear is often just a means to an end. For Kangding Ray, these modules are not just tools but collaborators, shaping the emotional and physical impact of his work. The modular environment, with its ephemeral patches and happy accidents, is both a playground and a challenge. It demands that the composer record more than he needs, always searching for the fleeting moments where magic condenses into sound.

The creation of ‘Sirāt’ is revealed as a journey of shared listening and mutual respect between Kangding Ray and director Oliver. Their process is less about rigid direction and more about wandering together through musical landscapes—listening to records, exchanging references, and building a common ground. The responsibility to portray the underground techno scene authentically weighs heavily, guiding their choices and deepening their collaboration.

Technical collaboration extends to the sound designer, Leia, and the film’s editor, as the score is woven into the fabric of the film’s Atmos mix. The team works to blur the boundaries between music and environmental sound, creating a seamless tapestry where wind, sand, and drones resonate together. The workflow is iterative and organic, with music often preceding visuals and serving as the backbone for the film’s rhythm and emotional pacing. This is not a process of assembly, but of immersion—where each contributor’s expertise shapes the final, enveloping experience.