Mary St John weaves ethereal tapestries of analog electronic haziness in fourteen settings...might be likened to the bucolic experience of lying in a summer country field watching clouds roll by and soaking up the sounds of insects and birds while tripping out on time-suspending hallucinogens. Shimmering organ, spidery Moog melodies...suggest a late-20th-century showdown between Xenakis and Stockhausen...Pretty synth interludes and white noise cacophony cross swords with diseased spacewalks and disheveled harpsichord jaunts." -Textura