The space in which music is played and performed can have an extraordinary effect on what you hear, not just acoustically, but in terms of inspiration and aesthetics. Grand concert halls are perfectly suited to soaring strings, whilst angular gig venues benefit electronica. Jherek Bischoff owes such a debt to the space in which his latest work was born that he has named the album after it. Cistern is named for the two million gallon water tank buried underneath Fort Worden. The empty, cavernous space forced Bischoff to play slowly, lest his music be subsumed by a seemingly endless reverb.

Cistern was not recorded in the space that inspired the record, but its affectations have had a distinct impact. Its slow, drawn out strings and steady percussion create a work that's thoughtful and introspective. Opening track 'Automatism' features dull, metallic percussion and meditative chimes alongside rhythmic piano and keening strings. It has a sense of cinematic wonder similar to the work of Nick Cave and Warren Ellis for The Assassination of Jesse James - particularly in the latter half where quick-tempo chimes sounds out over plucked strings.

Much of Cistern has a filmic feel to it. 'Closer To Closure', with its softly plucked strings and deep rhythm section, has an almost suffocating atmosphere, the reverberation of the instruments (particularly at the low end) marking out an aural space that seems to be closing in around the listener. 'Lemon' counteracts that with a sense of grandeur, the brighter strings giving a sense of vastness. It's position in the middle of the record feeling like coming up for air - an image explicitly referenced by the album's cover.

Whilst an extraordinary album from start to finish - there are moments that really stand out. 'Headless', which sees Bischoff embracing something closer to post-rock, sees the composer combining twinkling keys, reverberated guitar and rolling percussion, resulting in an atmospheric slow-burner. It moves from a mournful march, to euphoric elicitations - leading perfectly into the album's mid-point.

'The Wolf', which sits towards the end of the album, brings a sense of the theatric with slow, ominous percussion and a string arrangement that even at its quietest drips with threat. It's as though at any moment a great beast will be unleashed and the song will erupt into violent violin stabs. That violence never comes, so instead 'The Wolf' ends up as a discomforting, yet thoroughly thrilling experience.

Cistern closes with 'The Seas Son', a beautiful, elegiac track that leans heavily on string swells that recall the ebb and flow of the sea. A simple piano melody plays out underneath the strings, its sound small and delicate compared to the vast, grand strings that surround it. And yet, within all this there is room for silence - calm moments of respite amidst the music, a final chance for reflection before Bischoff draw proceedings to a satisfying close.