Iyer's first recorded work with strings places him in a very different setting to previous albums that range from quartet to solo via trio, but artistic depth remains the common denominator. It may be tempting to say that the orchestral composer is taking greater precedence over the improviser. However that doesn't appear to be the point, especially when the scored material is executed with the strength of character of his new collaborators. There is a distinct starkness in the attack of first violinist Miranda Cuckson that loosely evokes the great Leroy Jenkins, and as such lends the arrangements a steel and edginess that serves to embolden its wry, eerie lyricism. Furthermore, the strings knit together so potently on unison and contrapuntal statements, above all on the dramatic ascending lines of ‘Rise’, that they shake off any of the polite connotations of a quartet in favour of the rugged but no less disciplined stance of a band. Organised in 10 movements, the title piece has something of the fragmented flow and hypnotic motif-based principles that underpin both early post-rock and classical or jazz composers with a love of all things architectural. But if the spirit of the late Lawrence D. ‘Butch’ Morris pirouettes startlingly into view every so often, its dancing partner is Iyer's own very personal way with narrative and texture. Much of his playing can be cryptic and sparse but is tightly locked to the other sounds so as not to be undercooked. The other key element of the palette is electronics, which at times are nothing more than the faintest of hisses and low heartbeats into which the strings and keyboard fade like breath on a winter windowpane. Thought-provoking rather than prescriptive, Mutations is a work that blurs genre boundaries all the while evoking a world of uncertainty and flux.