DACM - Stéréotypie

And that makes three. Over the course of 2005 Tujiko Noriko released no fewer than three albums.

The sweet, autumnal music-box charm of "28", made with Aoki Takamasa, and the solo record built around folk-tronic textures, "Blurred In My Mirror".

On this record she enlists the help of another wizard of sparkling electronics, a guy named Pita. Who's that, you ask? Well, Pita is, first and foremost, Peter Rehberg. A hugely important artist in the glitch-noise field. His solo albums are disturbing and meticulous, harsh, wrapped in an aura that's both grimy and brilliant at once. Don't miss the pairing of "Get Out" and "Get Off".

"Stéréotypie" moves away from the sweet, delightful feel we're used to on Tujiko's solo albums. Clearly influenced by Peter's touch, here Tujiko lets herself be enveloped by sharp washes of sound, lashing bursts of noise and an abyss of shadowy light that clouds her crystalline voice.

"Ln Start" is a sonic oblivion in which muffled, subterranean waves of noise drift by calmly and slowly, bleeps chime, and you seem to hear the flow of some formless liquid sliding down a smooth, slick rock wall.

"Party" is an industrial anthem: a limping rhythm advances hesitantly, percussion rumbles distracting the listener, a chaos of aching tolls inflicts unspeakable torment, and the finale is a gradual dissolving of noise, a peaceful hiss, a weave of aleatory sounds.

"Vidya" is a film watched in slow motion, its soundtrack slowed down and sped up with no apparent logic. A stream of synth runs fast then crawls, stunned, an emission of glitches sprays colour everywhere, a voice seems to moan, constrained, inside a darkened room.

In "Angel" we find Tujiko's voice again. And it's pure peace for the senses. A little grime, a few piano notes, faint hints of noise, lo-fi textures, a shy, precise beat. A backdrop perfectly suited to the delicate vocalising of our favourite angel. A pop song, in the end. A deconstructed pop, of dazzling beauty.

"Marie" is a masterpiece. It starts out minimal, with microscopic hints of distorted synth. As the minutes go by, sounds creep in from every direction, in a seamless blend of counterpoints arriving from outer space. An uncertain drum machine tries to impose some semblance of order, but there's no hope. Randomness reigns. Five minutes of electronic perfection.

"Bassamanico" is the soundtrack to a hidden crypt where unwatchable, uncontrollable punishments are carried out. Beats and screams, schizophrenic outbursts and blows, delivered with startling force. A kind of proto-ambient, blending industrial temptations, a noise attitude and a touch of madness.

We venture down the horror-strewn paths of "Outparis Kiss", then cautiously cross the world of sonic filth that is "Latex". With "Patty", it feels like listening to an outstanding b-side of "Hard Ni Sasete". Recalcitrant percussion, digital crackle, a precious, childlike little voice, in a song that is, as ever, infectious and priceless.

"Birthday" is yet another attempt - a perfectly successful one - to deconstruct a genre as overworked as isolationist ambient. Twelve minutes of sheer completeness, without a moment of hesitation or boredom. Various layers of pure digital sound overlap with extraordinary naturalness, and the whole thing develops, slowly and progressively, up to its final implosion.

The ending is entrusted to the silent battle between infinitesimal insects on "Ln End".

The record, like the other two released this year, is a feast for the senses and a full, unmistakable confirmation of Tujiko's talent: enviable artistic sensitivity, brilliant intuitions, an angelic voice and a delightful face.

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30/04/2026