Biography

‍Cinna Peyghamy is a French-Iranian percussionist, composer, and producer working with modular synthesizers and the tombak — a goblet drum representing centuries of Persian musical tradition and, more broadly, cultural expression. With a background in science and programming and more than a decade of involvement in the Parisian electronic and experimental music scene, Cinna’s main focus is surpassing the conventional boundaries of “traditional versus contemporary” or “acoustic versus electronic.” Instead, he offers a nuanced exploration of identity through sound, reflecting his experience as a French-born artist of Iranian descent — someone who deeply cherishes his home country and its rich cultural heritage, but who has not been able to visit it since his birth.

Peyghamy not only performs and composes but also creates and designs unique instruments, from DIY synthesizers and soundboxes to motor-based mechanical structures that serve as tools for his compositions, performances, and sound installations. Most of his current work, however, revolves around the relationship between the visceral physicality of the tombak and the endless possibilities of the modular synthesizer. What began as a desire to craft a performance-ready setup now also expresses Cinna’s dual identity — not only in terms of ethnicity, but also as a live performer and studio producer.

His debut release under his birth name, The Skin In Between, was published in 2023 by Zabte Sote, a pivotal independent label in the Iranian contemporary music landscape. His new full-length album, Music for Tombak & Synth, is scheduled for release in early June on Nicolas Jaar’s Other People imprint — a deeply personal narrative reflecting Cinna’s connection to family, memory, and cultural heritage.

The Whisperer says:

‍“The sound of a drum is the sound of a heartbeat. Once, it was the heartbeat of beautiful cities now forgotten, where hospitals, schools, and homes have all turned to dust and silence. Today, through their empty streets, the wind moves like breath through an absent body, carrying only the memory of that rhythm — as though the land itself still remembers how to speak in music, and waits, quietly, to call back those who once abandoned it.”