After a stellar performance on Mushi-No-Ne , No. 9 continues to indulge in childlike whimsy on Micro Films -- a small story in sound and pictures of the entire world of plants and animals. This is organic music that evolves with time -- like the memory of a good movie or book -- and, as the album title suggests, with just a little light & magnification, dazzling new audiovisual vistas are opened up to the naked ear. Micro Films is a tour de force of animated mellow electropop encompassing downtempo, pop minimalism, ambient glitch drill'n' bass and acid jazz, where the rhythms of insects and the scurrying impressions of city life on the Tokyo streets are one in Joe Takayuki's design. Packaged with a beautiful collection of 13 illustrations by 13 contemporary Japanese artists.

"Joe Takayuki, known here as No. 9, focuses on electronic beats and chanteuse-clipped scats, but with a mercurial flare that moves under your ears like a quicksilver stream." -Pitchfork Media

"Joe Takayuki's no.9 project is a delicious confection of broken, itchy jazz beats and twisting electronic sonorities." -The Wire, March 2004

"...dissolves the boundaries between organic and electronic musicmaking." - Bill Meyer, Chicago Tribune

"a whimsical, childlike mosaic of calliope, spinning mobiles, and uninhibited carnival noise set to a broken groove." - Lost at Sea, March 2004

"Takayuki's arrangements conjure up a world where Amon Tobin, or a less spastic Squarepusher, worked with jazz legends like drummer Tony Williams and multi-instrumentalist Eric Dolphy on post-bop jams with melodic patterns suggested by minimalist composer Steve Reich and additional ambient production tweaks by Brian Eno." - Ethan Covey, Grooves

"Funny, fascinating and utterly beautiful." -The Wire

"a miracle of whispered snippets, cool keyboards, and brushed-sounding drum effects that sound both laid-back and frenetic." - Splendid

"Without doubt Micro Films places No. 9 alongside the masterful Cornelius, in the higher echelons of pioneering, yet accessible Japanese electronic music." -Spencer Grady, Dusted

"At times it echoes the jazz sensibilities of Four Tet, the playfulness of Mice Parade, the rhythmic complexity of Squarepusher, the cut-up techniques of Herbert, the pastoral ambience of The Orb, and so much more. But that's not to say it's a pastiche or copy of anything else. It's a truly original work by an original artist" -Jazzadelica

"No. 9 (who, like Cage before him, "finds" music in our day-to-day realities) weaves mini-tapestries of muted, insinuating beauty... Micro Films is the aural equivalent of taking a warm bath or slipping into a Jacuzzi on a quiet, blissfully solitary evening." -Mark Keresman, Still Confusing to a Stranger

"As No. 9, Takayuki mixes abstract jazz-- in the tradition of Eric Dolphy, Bobby Hutcherson, and Tony Williams in their Blue Note days-- with field recordings, then reassembles the results into crystalline, mathematical patterns. Flung into a melodic mix, he hyperactively shifts these patterns, provide every track with complex, double-helix turns that reveal previously unglimpsed structures with each listen. Not since Four Tet's Rounds have I heard drum programming as loose with the kit, yet firmly interknit with timekeeping, evoking post-bop drummers more than hip-hop producers.

No. 9 released the single "Where Come From? And Where To?" last year with remixes from Hrvatski and Bundy K. Brown, and the song re-appears here, a sliver of a Henry Mancini film score gone manic spliced with catchy pieces of scatted gibberish. "Survive" seeks to invoke horn man Gato Barbieri (somewhere between his free-skronk days and 1972's Last Tango in Paris ), transforming the sax into a sinewave that hovers at a Star Trek tiki bar, while drums blink in infinite Simon patterns on the back panel. Swaggering Lalo Schifrin spy themes swish along with monk-robed Autechre, never letting the complexity override the simple beauty of the sounds. Elsewhere, crickets shine like moonlit ponds and frogs twinkle like galaxies on the blatantly titled "BUG BEATS" and "ECO EGO", the lines between microscopic and macroscopic lost in the drift.

The final portion of Mushi No-one is perfect for night listening. Basslines walk in the peaceful darkness, a perfect balance between stillness and skitter achieved after the knotty jazz charts that appeared earlier. "Insatiable World" gurgles and spits up tiny shards that should be familiar to Lithops fans, slowly sinking into evening's ambience. The title track is 17 minutes of crickets, digital buzz, and chopped up metallophones, the natural, digital, and hand-made permutating into one another. Closer "For Sister" brings together church bells, flamenco guitar, cello, snares, and snaps (not to mention a cellphone melody at the end) for a lively farewell, proving that Joe can do downtempo as well as no-tempo. Mysterious or humorous, peaceful or bustling, Mushi No-ne remains always in flux." - Andy Beta, Pitchfork Media 

No. 9
Micro Films
Locust
2004

              aptop music lacks a recording space. The music emanates from flat circuitry that, despite the ever-expanding tools available to the digital composer, doesn’t have the subtle charms of a real musical environment (studio, bedroom, barn, etc.). But the computer’s virtual space isn’t necessarily a limitation; the dislocation of laptop music from a real space opens a new avenue by which to explore the concept of space in music.

The human mind, when surrounded by sound, will create a space. Ambient composers (and many digital-noise nuts) exploit this tendency to invoke imaginary spaces. Their music is blurry and disorienting, like seeing the world through a thin blanket, and it is often compelling for those reasons. Joe Takuyuki, the man behind No. 9, removes this blanket. The spaces he creates are crystal clear and bursting with detail.

Micro Films has a unique sound. Takayuki integrates field recordings, live instruments, and remarkably fresh, jazz-informed drum programming into a shimmering bed of quiet computer tones. The album is a study of forgotten spaces: the vibrant insect microcosm, the smoky innards of a jazz-inflected dance club, and the sunny expanse of birds in flight.

His worlds feel eerily real. The first track, “From Mushi No-Ne” begins with chirping crickets and a beautiful echoing digital tone. A calm androgynous voice, chopped digitally into percussive hiccups enters. As the insect chorus adds members, the voice multiplies and bounces around the soundscape, becoming lost in the meditative bell-like tones only to re-emerge startlingly. The track is so alive that it is surreal—a dream world distorted by digital trickery.

The inspired bass guitar opening “Get Gut” signals a move indoors. Broken drumming flirts with the bass line before blossoming into an agile drum-n’-bass inflected beat. A trumpet blurts occasionally, overflowing with energy. Grunts pop up here and there, adding another layer of rhythm, but also suggesting the exclamations of performers onstage. Meanwhile, quiet sounds chatter almost inaudibly in the background, mimicking the subdued conversation of an audience. When the drummer wears out, with a final grunt, and the bass line walks right out of the room, these background tones get louder. The track ends in a gorgeous shower of tones that both complements and applauds the departed musicians.

Another highlight is awkwardly titled “With Millions of Love.” Bird sounds flutter about the track, while an acoustic guitar strums a simple melody. Computer blips dance around the guitar. A leisurely hi-hat beat arrives to liven things up, and finally a second guitar drops a gorgeous melodic counterpoint. The song is so warm you’ll forget the winter.

Takayuki stuffs each track with great moments. His painstaking attention to detail is obvious, but Micro Films is not obsessively over-produced. Rather, a sense of free-spirited whimsy pervades the album, and you too will feel a little lighter if you drift into his world.

Reviewed by: Bryan Berge
Reviewed on: 2005-01-27