Magicicada architect Christopher White has a penchant for subtle explorations that slowly build into ideas; these, in turn, form their own worlds, and as sudden as their birth, disappear from whence they came. A more appropriate title for this work would be The Art of the Drone or Never Reaching Our Destination, and Liking It. The majority of the compositions here are exactly that: prolonged, soaring sounds that swell and gurgle with activity, bereft of origin, climax and closure. At first it's a bit unnerving because it feels like you are being led somewhere. Then you realize it's not about getting from point A to point B; the sights and details of the journey are what matters.

White's taste for using live, original materials as sound sources perpetuates his universe and gives him an advantage over the ever-growing number of chumps using sample CDs and synth presets; if you have a hard time submerging yourself in this sort of music without ticking off Roland D-50 patches as you hear them, you'll be happy. "Black Bit Memory" takes a slowly evolving raspy cello melody for a nearly-eight-minute ride through what sounds like wind chimes or cutlery, almost intelligible voices and mysterious and subtle creaking. A backwoods haunted dinner party on the porch? "Recrossing" combines a bassy, liquid flow and distant steel mill hammering, rising to a peak through skillful frequency combinations. Once again, the sounds are crafted in a way that makes them almost recognizable, but enigmatic enough to keep everything surreal. The care and craftsmanship with which White wields his materials helps these compositions to dodge ambient music's deadliest trap: White makes music, not sound design.