If you’ve ever fallen so deep into your laptop screen that the real world starts to blur, you’ll understand what Ninajirachi is doing here. Her debut album, I Love My Computer, is more than a title – it is a confession, a manifesto, and maybe even a diary entry typed in binary.
Ninajirachi comes from a small town in regional Australia, where the kind of electronic music she now makes didn’t exist. Her computer wasn’t just a tool – it was her gateway, her teacher, her instrument. “All of my music is computer music,” she says in a press release for her album, “I don’t know who I would be without it.” And you can hear that intimacy in every second of this record.
This isn’t your typical EDM debut. I Love My Computer refuses to sit neatly in one genre box. It bounces between shimmering 2010s-inspired electro-pop, club-thumping bass drops, and these dreamy ambient stretches that feel like loading screens for a game you wish existed. The production is meticulous but never sterile – as there’s warmth in the synths, a tactile grit in the percussion, and a constant sense of motion that refuses to let the momentum fade.
From the first seconds of ‘London Song’, the album feels like an opening credits sequence – synths stretching wide, vocals gliding, and this undercurrent of gratitude for everything her machine has made possible. ‘CSIRAC’, named after Australia’s first digital computer, plays like a conversation between past and present tech: glitchy artefacts brushing up against sleek modern production.
Then there’s ‘Delete’ — a perfect micro-drama about the psychology of posting on social media just to be noticed by one specific person. The beat swings between soft-focus piano and sharp, percussive drops, mirroring that push-pull between vulnerability and performance. “I chose a song you like in case you saw it,” she sings, like a digital-age torch song for the algorithm.
Even the interlude, ‘ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ’, serves a purpose – a pixelated, high-energy portal to ‘All I Am’ and the euphoric final track ‘All At Once’, which closes the album like the credits of a film you instantly want to rewatch.
The emotional core comes through on ‘Battery Death’, a slow-burn build of airy pads and submerged beats, sounding like the last 5% of your phone battery if it could ache. ‘Sing Good’ is all about space – an ambient diary entry where her voice drifts in and out like thoughts you can’t hold onto.
Then there’s ‘It’s You’ with daine – the only collaboration on the album and one that feels like two digital universes colliding. Co-finished with Darcy Baylis, it merges daine’s ethereal delivery with Ninajirachi’s glowing production, grounded by an unexpected guitar verse that cuts through the synth haze.
This album isn’t just about electronic music – it’s about the relationship between artist and machine, and the way technology shapes not just the sound, but the person making it. Every track feels like a tab left open in Ninajirachi’s browser history – some sparkling with joy, others heavy with nostalgia, all tied together by an understanding that creativity is limitless when your only instrument is a computer you love.
For me, I Love My Computer is one of those records that makes you want to start messing around with production software yourself – not to sound like Ninajirachi, but because it makes you believe you could find your own voice in the machine.
