'The Soundtrack' presents us with a musician in search of a band, and the substitute he finds in the shrinking public spaces of London's streets. We see a young man sat at a drum kit placed on an anonymous thoroughfare, a potential stage actualized and particularized by his presence. Although he is unaccompanied by other musicians, he does not play alone. Instead, the sonic landscape of the city conspires in his performance, its trains, cars, and sirens driving and perhaps even responding to his improvised beats. We might imagine this urban concert as both a protest at disappearing freedoms, and a celebration of those that we eke out in the places we least expect. We might, too, see it as a meditation on the way in which a city might interact with its inhabitants, outside the authoritarian stuff of surveillance and zoning. Eriksson's drummer, we know, is in search of a band. Is the London of 'The Soundtrack' in search of a drummer?