Chib's debut mini-album, Moco, introduces her miniature electronic soundscapes, which recall the work of Colleen and Nobukazu Takemura, but even more pared-down and with a slightly more whimsical and occasionally spooky edge. While her methods -- which include finely chopping samples of found sounds and atmospheric samples with tiny melodies and percussion -- reveal a deft hand with programming, her music is uniquely organic-sounding considering all the process that goes into it. On tracks such as the delicate, hypnotic "Hon," "((O))," and "S," Moco suggests the music microscopic organisms would make if they could, or at least the kind of music that would comprise the soundtrack to a forward-thinking documentary on them. Even the titles of Moco's songs tend to look like cell structures instead of more conventional names. At times, hints of Chib's classical piano training make themselves felt on Moco, particularly on the opening track, "Chips." With the aforementioned piano, along with violins, muffled vocals, and harmonicas, the song is given an almost bluesy feeling before acoustic guitars and weightless synths take it in a different direction. Indeed, it can be easy to lose the thread of Moco's songs if you're not paying close attention, since they tend to shift subtly into different, but just as understated, sounds. "+" begins with breath, wind chimes, eerie humming noises that could be synths or vocals, and what sounds like a beeping telephone, and then moves to samples of chatter, birds, and street noises; the effect is like emerging from deep water in front of a city. "Kimuchi" blends murmured vocals, samples of wind, and an almost imperceptible melody into a piece that, like the rest of the album, isn't exactly immediate but is far from alienating. Moco is a promising debut, and one that shows that there is a lot to explore within Chib's microscopic-sounding music.
© Heather Phares /TiVo