“Sonic Peace,” which won the Chuya Nakahara Prize in 2006, is in the classic “artist-versus-modernity” vein. It rings with contemporary loneliness, solitary figures awake in the night and vending machines glowing in the gloom. Many of the voices are personified electronic devices, our phones and computers looking back at us from the “blue-darkness.” The threat of surveillance, of being watched, pervades the work, which is rooted in the artificiality of modern Tokyo. As the voice in “March Road” says, even the horizon is counterfeit.