Blurred In my mirror saw Tujiko Noriko mucking it up in the grimy material realms of dub and house, two realms which tantalized the senses with a barrage of ragged arpeggios, grinding, persistent techno beats and Noriko’s sly vocal quips.
Initially released in 2002, Shojo Toshi is more loosely structured and pretty, opting for a fluidity of mood and dynamic range over the inclination of the latter towards all things rhythmic and disorienting. ¨Endless End¨ floats breezily, its brittle programming and sensuous keyboard tones ensnared only slightly by the metal coil of the tightly sequenced drum patterns. In fact, numerous pieces display a frail brightness. Beginning with a prelude of dizzyingly syncopated synth stabs set against a bank of murmuring flutes, compositions grow lighter and ascend into plodding pulses and stately rhythms – all the while, Noriko’s vocal coo reaches for the heights as well, adding another shimmering layer to the subdued and whimsical proceedings.
Still, pieces do shift focus. ¨Tokyo¨ may start with clusters of light vibraphone and deep clicks and bass tones, but the track still spills over into a turgid atmosphere of alien effects and a bitter disharmony that illuminates the underlying melody. Similarly, when the deformed beats and slinky bursts of static that dominate ¨Bebe¨ follow the joyful rhythm, droning horns and wafting bell tones of ¨White Film¨, their appearance is easy and surprising.
At times, such as on ¨I Love You¨ and ¨Girl Meets Boy¨, these airy cooings float a bit too free and waft their way right into a fey sentimentalism that is not altogether becoming. In a sense, then, Noriko is most enticing when she floats somewhere in between the worldly and otherworldly, and on this work her various trips and entanglements prove quite stirring.
Max Schaefer
