AOKI TAKAMASA - Simple Funk

One of the leading figures in Japanese and global electronic music returns with a new work, continuing a career marked by output always centred on a relentless pursuit of unusual rhythms, atypical patterns, and perfect timbral combinations. A continuous, almost obsessive experimentation, a great commitment to breaking out of genre boundaries and unveiling a new sound.

His albums fold in a passion for rarefied music such as glitch, for minimal techno, and a knowing passion for boundless sonic research. Passing through the shimmering masterpiece that is "Indigo Rose", crossing the threshold of the processed, shattered techno of "Silicom", all the way to the tender lull of bleeps and stomps found in the depths of "Quantum". Not to be forgotten is the very recent "28" (with Tujiko Noriko), a handful of songs of innate delicacy.

Rhythmic bareness, an interstellar collision of shy, introspective melodies. The painful crackle of a short-circuiting processor, the schizophrenic clatter of a fake percussion dismembered to the point of exhaustion. A soundtrack for an alien, mysterious world, small amateurish landscapes, boundless gazes towards the horizon.

"That Melody" is a disjointed, spastic dance. Various decompositions fragment with extremely low granularity, voices murmur small words in the background, an electric repetition seems to be the jolt of an apparent blackout.

"Superstring 76" is pure compositional genius: 10 minutes of continuous cuts and stitches. For a few minutes the rhythm seems to settle into regularity, but right on cue a slashing blow tears through the stillness, and an abyss of counterpoints floods over us. The ending is dense and cohesive. A keyboard note is stretched to the point of exhaustion, a drum machine sounds metallized, corroded, altered.

"M" ventures into a hallucinated vision of techno. The beat is (apparently) precise, the sonic grime is an embellishment that overloads the senses, volume peaks are a gunshot to the back, a stab in the dark. A dark cloud of melancholy darkens the atmosphere, leaving silence moments of pure madness. Swaying keyboard notes are a dream that turns into a nightmare within seconds.

"Walking In The Ocean" grafts on a voice and we dive into a glitch-pop of unspeakable, unclassifiable shape. Mechanical, mechanized warbling, sharp lacerating hiss, elusive and mocking words, small steps above an abyssal, endless sea, blinding and coloured in crystalline blue.

"Prague I.T.M." is barely two minutes of sonic frustration: encasing a hopping cicada in a box too small for it to move, letting it vent, and getting a jumble of random, disordered, stylized timbres.

"Dancing Queen" lines up, like at the starting line of a race, with the preceding tracks, shifting seemingly insignificant little angles that, in the long run, prove more meaningful than ever. Regular reiterations, a peaceful pulse, tiny ghost-like drones drift carefree through the interstices of the composition.

"Protocol M.T.T." is built on a single keyboard touch, repeated until the end of time, in different tonalities but always on the same note. Power surges become lightning bolts radiating vivid, warm energy. Pure robotic dance.

The title track is glitch abstraction, its gait so lame it borders on an epileptic seizure; "The Elegant Universe" is an exasperating suite hybridizing ambient spirit, experimental soul and an infinity of click and cuts.

The engaging record closes with the sound of roaring engines and speeding Formula One cars in "Monza".

It's a duty for the whole world of electronic music fans to dig into the Japanese side of the scene, because it's a scene in ferment, and throughout 2005 it produced a wealth of masterpieces. This record is a shining example of that, with all its pauses and the mysticism that coats it, with all its dreamlike aura and moments adorned with the brightest stars.

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30/04/2026