The latest instalment in Aoki Takamasa’s ongoing investigation into modulation and music, RV8 is a glitch album without the frenetic intellectualism of an Autechre release. That’s not to say that it’s not a very considered production, though – there’s a lot going on here if the listener keeps an ear out. Throughout, beats morph, emphasis points change and instruments swap places without sacrificing the music’s [mostly]upbeat drive.
Ostensibly a collection of 4/4 grooves with nondescript titles, album opener ‘Rhythm Variation 01’ sets the tone. Bass-heavy, there’s rave-up vocal stabs and a kick pattern that shifts spots, mirrors itself and percolates joyously. Though electronic, much of the beats sound kit-playable, and very much constructed with a drummer’s ear. It’s almost as if Takamasa is daring the listener to take time out from the groove to notice how the structure of the pieces can be changed almost without notice.
This playful nature continues through the album, though one of the best examples is to be found in the second track, where the emphasis of the count shifts until there’s a head snapping moment when the first beat comes back around and it feels as if the world has transformed. Playing with straight rhythms and syncopation, Takamasa creates an approachable, involving world.
The tracks are so solidly constructed that in the instances where there’s a couple of seconds silence between them, your feet will continue to want to move, to mark time. It’s odd, this without-stimulus tapping, and is akin to the moment when a harsh noise album concludes and you are entirely focused on the lack of sound – a miniature experience of blissful awareness.
The sounds throughout are almost stock electronic – muted kicks, white-noise snares or cymbals, claps, an occasional moment of wub-bass. Occasional samples liven the proceedings, particularly on ‘Rhythm Variation 05’, where a voice explains the album’s key motivator: sculpting in sound. But despite the familiarity of its parts, RV8 doesn’t feel dated, or like a retread.
It is possible to want more from Takamasa by the end of the album. Most of the tracks hover around the same tempo, so that it’s possible to imagine that there’s a continuous line through the album. The overall feeling, though, is so hard and clean that an almost uniformity of speed is easy to forgive. RV8 is eminently danceable and provides enough I’m-clever-I-see-what-you’re-doing-there moments to make it worth repeat listens.
Luke Martin
