“A collection of 6 signature TAKAHIRO MUKAI musings.” Because that’s
what TAKAHIRO MUKAI does, everybody, he muses
over his synthesizer. He doesn’t compose, he doesn’t jam, he muses. Meaning, he considers carefully
and introspectively how his miniature synthesizer movements will move and flow,
penetrate the ears, infiltrate the mind.
The tracks are titled by numbers, because TM has absolutely no interest
or time for such trivial matters as actually naming songs. And he doesn’t need to. Tracks like “#176” and “#174”
bounce along like a stone skipping on a still pond, its ripple effects the
digital EQ readout of each track, because we’re eating our own tail here,
ouroboros style. Realities are overlapping, superimposed like ancient Rome over
modern-day life, just like in VALIS,
and if you haven’t read VALIS, do it.
Then listen to Takahiro Mukai. Or vice versa. One does not inform the other.
If there exists a discotheque where TM DJ’s, it would be the weirdest,
herky-jerky dancefloor ever. Instead of huge, four-on-the-floor beats,
everybody would stumble-bumble to the sickly, warbling, static-heavy bong rips Telly, Washer and Fridge constantly
serves. But still, if you’re listening to this – and I know you are, everybody is right now, and I mean everybody – you can totally picture the
club, right? The lightshow, the vibe – the music’s just a little off. And
that’s why TM’s perfect for being in my head. Because there’s no way in FUCK
that I’m ever going to a club.
--Ryan Masteller
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