Angelic classical tenor voice looped, layered, and degraded by analog tape. About Ian William Craig's last album A Turn of Breath, Justin Snow (Anti-Gravity Bunny) said: “It's records like this that make life worthwhile...an incredibly dramatic ebb & flow of heartache & ecstasy that makes the tragedy of the world an acceptable sacrifice so we can feel alive, this is a record that will fucking destroy you from the inside out and transform you into a whole person.” That's pretty accurate, and this new release from the Vancouver vocalist and visual artist is no less powerful. Fragmented phrases, curlicuing cooing, heartbreaking harmonies. Enveloping, weightless, terrifying, enchanting. Craig is one of the most awe-inspiring musicians I've heard in years. Favorites: 2, 5, 8. No FCCs.

1. (3:16)—Measured, pristine, choral. Gets glitchier in the second half; as great as Enya is, this ain't Enya.
2. *(7:28)—Immediate start. Hypnotic swells and ebbs. “It pulls and it pulls.” Hangs by a thread, then resolves into plunging noise at the end. Fades out early at -0:25.
3. (5:21)—Slow to emerge, chilly, subtle, floating.
4. (4:52)—Major key, droning, with distorted vocals fluttering off. Drifts into serenity for the final third. Dial-tone-like noises. Ends at -0:10.
5. *(4:47)—A tape starting, lonely keening. Soft, silky, sad. Sublime in the original sense of the word.
6. (5:56)—Divebombing whistling. Some of the most intelligible singing on the album. Hurricanes of distant noise.
7. (5:02)—Slow, minimal, soft, icy, elegiac, peaceful.
8. *(5:26)—Stuttering intro with whispering falsetto. A sad solo voice dissolves into noise. The whole thing resolves into a beautiful choral finish.