The layers pile up, then peel away, and the music stays fluid and hypnotic.
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Repetition is the engine here, always in motion. Synth waves swell and recede, piano phrases return with subtle shifts, and grooves take on a ritual-like insistence. Two bass players and three drummers drive the music, creating surges that ease into quieter piano figures before rising again. Across its fourteen tracks, Manifeste feels less like a collection of tunes than one long, collective statement.
Sonic swells move through Manifeste in waves and sharp pulses, sometimes echoing the piano, sometimes pressing up against the choir until the two blur together. Vocals often occupy the same register as the keyboards, forming a mass where breath and circuitry blur together.Trumpet lines rise briefly out of the mix—lyrical one moment, jagged the next—before slipping back into heavy bass lines and swirling electronics. Hamasyan’s whistling first appears in “Prelude for All Seekers,” catching you off guard before sliding naturally into the surrounding sound.
Hamasyan’s choral writing draws directly from Armenian sacred and folk traditions. The Yerevan State Chamber Choir, conducted by Kristina Voskanyan, sings in wordless or Armenian phrases that feel ceremonial, almost chant-like. Sometimes the voices stack into thick layers, sometimes they stretch out in slow, winding lines, giving the music a ritual feel that fits naturally with the electronics and piano.
Then there’s the ethereal vocals of Asta Mamikonyan. “On E Flat Venice – Per Mané,” her voice sounds quietly sad and fragile, moving alongside plucked piano notes and small electronic flickers before the music swells. On “The Fire Child,” she turns darker and more inward, drifting through the electronics as the choir answers from a distance.
Elsewhere, cello lines bring a mournful gravity, set against piano runs that dart playfully through the upper register. Those juxtapositions—joyful and heavy, serene and aggressive—run throughout the record.
The piano is the anchor, but Hamasyan is clearly thinking beyond it. The repeating figures, heavy left-hand work, and fast upper-register runs all connect to the same rhythmic idea, even as he moves between piano, synths, bass synth, vocals, whistling, and drum programming. It never feels busy or overloaded — all the parts feel like they come from the same place.
For all its density, Manifeste never loses its melodic grip. There’s a lot happening at any given moment, but Hamasyan keeps shaping it around lines you want to follow. The layers pile up, then peel away, and the music stays fluid and hypnotic. Even when something unexpected shows up—a burst of whistling, the sudden glow of the choir—it never feels jarring. You notice it, you lean in, and it just becomes part of the flow.
Tigran Hamasyan – piano, synths, bass synth, vocals, whistling, production, post production, drum programming; Marc Karapetian – bass; Matt Garstka – drums; Arman Mnatsakanyan – drums; Arthur Hnatek – drums, electronics, drum programming; Nate Wood – drums; Evan Marien – bass; Daniel Melkonyan – trumpet;Nick Llerandi – guitar, guitars; Artyom Manukyan – cello; Asta Mamikonyan – vocals;Hamin Honari – daf (frame drum); Yessai Karapetian – blul (similiar to a duduk but closer in sound to a flute); Yerevan State Chamber Choir conducted by Kristina Voskanyan
