Ryoji Ikeda is perhaps best known for his mastery of the ultra-minimal, for harnessing digital drones, glimmers and glitches to make unfolding sounds take seemingly apparent form in glacial patterns of space-filling lightness, of sounds so subtle as to only be noticeable when they have gone. When placed in the context of installations as found in galleries worldwide (his contribution of pure sine waves combined with stark brightness as experienced through shining tunnel of sound and light at the Sonic Boom group show at the Hayward Gallery in London in 2000 was exquisite) and recently in the dormant TWA Flight Center at JFK airport near New York – or as found in tandem with compellingly-minimal videos like the remarkable Formula – his work can provide a hauntingly immersive addition to any environment, built or perceived.
None of which should give the impression that Supercodex is an ambient album – it could possibly be listened to that way, but the energy levels, the twists, turns and occasionally startling jump-cuts Ikeda conjures here leave little time for drifting and relaxing. Instead, the listener could likely find themselves uncomfortably twisting and twitching reflexively in place, unable to dance – though this would be entertaining to watch, or maybe even try – with visions of all the digital world’s huge flow of data coursing through the speakers in audio form; that’s what Supercodex frequently sounds like: being tapped directly into the grid.
-Linus Tossio-
