Tim Gray, aka Ethernet, is a patient man. His two sterling albums for the Kranky label portrayed an artist for whom meditative gravitas is indeed the gateway to a distinctively becalming inner state, one where the travails of the outside world are vanquished in a haze of synthetic tug and flow. Gray’s debut for Carpe Sonum expands on those earlier conceptualizations, as if Gray has found a means to tap deep into his imaginative resources, striking gold in the process. Each of the eight pieces here reveal subtle shifts in airmass and density, unveiling multiple striations of tonal variability that muster electronica’s most hypnotic contemporary urges of pulse construct while simultaneously nibbling on the heels of the nu-age. The opening “Dyad” is like a dub-techno base relief cast in Tangerine Dreams of Gas-eous form, it’s arcing atmospheres lighting up the soundfield aurora borealis-style. “Hypnosis” takes an altogether different tack, built on a foundation of Tibetan-bell gamelan that underpins Gray’s deft touch with irising chords snaking across misty mountain hops. And the lengthy trek of “Timeless” is just that, memories suspended upon the epoch-spanning altars of forgotten gods. So what happens here? To paraphrase Dave Bowman, “something wonderful”.