In her all-black, hooded ensemble, Minyoung Kim cuts an immaculate silhouette. The South Korean musician opens with a traditional piece of music for the geomungo: a long, six-string zither. The notes reverberate through the silence, like arrows flying and trembling through a forest.
What follows is a startlingly cinematic journey deep into ancient pasts and visionary futures. Under Kim’s dexterous hands, the instrument she tells us is over a thousand years old – and now incredibly rare – summons melodies fit for an imperial court, but also adrenaline-fuelled soundscapes that wouldn’t be out of place at the club.
The 3D animation behind her adds atmosphere, but it’s almost extraneous: Kim mesmerises whether she’s solemnly singing jeongga (a genre of music dating back to the Joseon dynasty), or head-banging to a drum track, one hand on the geomungo like it’s a turntable.
PLASTIC is inspired by Kim’s fixation on the material’s toxicity and malleability: it is both literally in our bloodstreams and symbolically represents who we are. Thinking about widespread climate inaction, the anguish and defiance of Kim’s music is cathartic and transcends language.
In an interlude, she shares that she’s been criticised for “ruining” Korean traditional music. But keeping heritage alive doesn’t mean fixing it into stasis, she feels. Culture is plastic too: and for better and for worse, both shall long outlive us. “So I’m gonna be a rock star now,” Kim says politely. What she plays next brings the house down.
PLASTIC, Summerhall, until 31 Aug (not 17, 24), 8.45pm