Takako Minekawa is a sound nerd.

She generates the same kind of vibe as her pal (and paramour) Keigo Oyamada, that enthusiasm, bordering on obsession, for weird noises, groovy cover art and obscure movies or musicians. You can hear it when she talks about sound. Her eyes widen and her voice gets this geeky sort of enthusiasm as she attempts to put into words the "tweet" of a certain synthesizer or the "clang" of a drum on some record she's just heard. Spinning her collection of sounds into pure, off-kilter pop, she's the girl with noises in her head.

Her playfulness is apparent even in the name of her new album, "Fun9" (Polystar).

"The title is pronounced with the '9' as the Japanese 'kyu' -- in other words as 'funk,' " she says. "But even in Japan, I've got to explain how to say it. For the American and European releases, we have to write an explanation on the front cover."

"When people say funk, they usually think of James Brown," she says. "Of course he's funk from the inside, the original, but maybe it's a stereotype, too. I might not have that type of funk, but I think I have a funkiness inside me too -- in terms of how I deal with rhythm and timing. That's my original type of funkiness."

Not that Minekawa has become a soul sister. On "Fun9," Minekawa continues to mix melody and almost experimental electronics into an intoxicating blend of pop songs and snippets that are both intriguing to listen to and hummable in the shower. It's the same combination that pushed her previous album, "Cloudy Cloud Calculator," to number one on the college music charts in the U.S., making her one of the top Japanese artists abroad.

If "Cloudy Cloud Calculator" was, as Minekawa has said, inspired by colors, the washes of beeps and beats on "Fun9" were literally painted by her computer.

"I do a lot of programming. On my computer, the sounds are coded by color. I just started playing with the colors I liked, making a kind of patchwork, a sound patchwork."

"Fun9's" heightened sense of beats owes much to DJs You and Me from the Los Angeles group Sukia. Minekawa has always had excellent taste in collaborators. She recorded much of her first two albums, "Roomie Cube" and "Athletico," with Buffalo Daughter. On "Fancy Work Funk," the duo send Minekawa on a humorous, fantastic voyage courtesy of a children's toy and an inspired spattering of beats.

"The Sukia guys had a children's toy in the studio" she explains. "It was a set of headphones and you inserted cards into it and they would take you on an audio adventure. You have to answer the narrator's questions, yes or no. Of course, I didn't quite understand what was going on so I just answered at random. They thought it was funny so they edited so it sounded like I was a lost little girl with no friends."

The cuts produced by Oyamada are perhaps the least surprising on the album, sounding like a twisted extension of the last Cornelius album, combined with Minekawa's slightly edgier tastes.

Working with one's romantic partner is always a little problematic; Oyamada and Minekawa were no exception. While Minekawa uses her arsenal of synthesizers and other electronic toys on every other song on the album, the three cuts produced with Oyamada have her singing only.

"For 'Spider,' we used a stereophone, an instrument from the '60s," she says. "Originally, it was mine and I really wanted to play it, but he sort of took over and I just sat there with my fingers in my mouth.

"The images in his head are really hardcore, and it seems like the person playing the instruments should be really good, but next time I think I'll be a little more assertive."

Her self-produced cuts are perhaps the most engaging on the album. With the help of tinker-toy pop group Citrus, (a.k.a. Michiko Endo), Minekawa creates childlike fantasies with an adult touch.

"I told her to do something for me, to make sounds of sea gulls screaming," says Minekawa, explaining the tune "Flow in a Tide."

"But then it turned into a scene where the two of us are driving a submarine and trying to dodge fish and it's our screaming voices."

She adds, "No, it wasn't alcohol; it was chocolate."

Water images dominate much of the album's lyrics:submarine voyages, floating on the sea and the sounds of rain.

I've never been underwater because I have problems with my ears," explains Minekawa, "but I think it must be like going back to the womb."

Her voice, softly quivering on some cuts, sounding like a grownup Lolita on others, matches the aquatic sense perfectly, bringing a simplicity to the otherwise complex buildup of sounds.

With its layers of treated sound and rhythm, Minekawa's music has always been difficult to translate into live performance. Unlike the throb of the Chemical Brothers or Underworld, her electronic noodling lacks the operatic qualities that boost performances of some guy (or gal) playing with a computer. Though Minekawa won't tour extensively until she takes off to the U.S. in the spring, she is already contemplating how she'll fare.

"There's more live instrumentation, so it may be easier to pull off in concert," she says. "I saw Atari Teenage Riot in New York recently. They played one note and blew out the sound system. I've been thinking about trying that for a live performance."

However, don't expect Minekawa to trade-in her girlish charms for digital hardcore anytime soon.

"I went to the clothes shop yesterday and tried on some leather pants," she says. "But I looked in the mirror and decided I should leave it for another day."