Slow, ephemeral saturation. High-pitched sonics over a pulsating void, tinnitus in space. It's like discovering alien ancestors, and now that you've met them, you recognize them from the deepest aching parts of your spiritual DNA; your distant past and theirs, your hopeful future; how did you ever survive without this knowledge? A bright, starlit evolution, not in flashbacks but flashforwards. There are no fragments here, only flowing multidimensional textures punctuated with the echoes of minor key beats. The Caretaker minus the slow waltzes, under a layer of stardust. Tinkling sirens might signal that the planet is dead, but we're moving on to new ones. It's like waking up from a dream and struggling to remember the details before they slip and fall irretrievably apart. That kind of induced forgetfulness that leaves you wondering is a sign of amazing talent on the artist's part. Tracks four and six (they're all untitled) introduce some interference, the crackle of out-of-orbit satellite stations and broken powerlines, bringing you (a little unwillingly?) back to terra firma. 10/10 -- April Larson (17 June, 2009)