Naming yourself after an internet connection term might seem a bit on the nose, but Ethernet is an artist for whom tech is absolute, and he maximizes it's capabilities tenfold. His debut for the Kranky label was a helluva surprise, and nabbing him for Carpe Sonum something of a small coup. Now he unveils this captivating follow-up to his earlier CS issue, a lengthy trawl through the vacuums of space, time, atmosphere, shadow and substance, the textures of which are elasticized virtually to infinity. Operating on a locus with the likes of Gas, The Field, and others of a similar nature who bend the shapes of dub into objects barely recognizable, Ethernet champions pulse as much as pressure. Both "Fire Ceremony" and "Pages" thrum with alien heartbeats, subtly forged but supplying arresting undercurrents to the cinematic sweeps of the synths that expand above. "Embers" casts a warm, waning glow within the silicone membranes of your bass cones, the sounds becalming, the surrounding vistas bathed in rusts and oranges. And across the sputtering beats of "Rivers" travels some wholly vexing coos and aahs that cocoon you in it's humid, welcoming afterglow. Drink deep.
