'This is a beautiful yet serious record. It is ambience, but not 'simply' ambient. These are cinematic tracks begging for a narrative, often invoking the skeletons of stories with sounds of footsteps, rain, winds, waves, fire and animal life (birds?) alongside metals and the odd machine. The sound is almost always a bit grand and roomy, as if reverbing off of the sky and thickly layered with varied-pitch tones and drones which often become so much a part of the soundscape that they become the foundation of it's lushness, sometimes building tension, sometimes delivering an other-worldy, floating quality. As I listen to some of these tracks, I am reminded of times in my childhood during weather warnings when I stared at a dark sky, both menacing and terribly compelling, watching it roil too close to the ground where I stood.' 'Northing strays a little further from some of the more purist ambient territory of White Coffee, adding other elements, in particular more pronounced beat programming, but staying true to the blueprint. Opener 'Steps' has field recordings sampled into a rhythm and emplaced in warm analogue synthesizers - a kind of keynote address for the whole album, heralding it's flow of analogue, digital, and organic communings. Ananyev is a musician, above all, whose atmospheric aim is true. At some points it's almost as if an old movie-reel were spooling away in a deserted theatre, these pieces offering themselves as aural complement to your inner head-cinema, the ghosts of stories infused with found sounds - rain, wind, fire, animal calls, the raptures of metals and muffled machine music. Sometimes grandiose, always spacious, as if in a three-ply reverb heaven, festooned with arcing tones and drones investing the soundfield with some arcane majesty. Serving suggestions: 'Feather Curler,' which dares to place beats up close and personal, and hoist faraway synth-smears high and wide across the skies. It's ambient-techno, Jim, but not as we know it. 'Blood on Your Tongue,' starting with a rumble somewhere in Rich's Trances/Drones jungle, before being sub-tranced out by liminal rhythm-box syncopations. A large mass of charged air between thunder and hum hangs, heavy, fetid. 'Tebe,' an ambient trip-hop excursion, with slow sustains leaking onto a shuffling drum-base, a rain-wave canopy overhanging. Emotion lies long and longing lingers around 'Blanket Short', a mere fragment of the fully 53-minute long slowburn symphony that features on the bonus disc ( part of ltd. Ed. 2 CD). As you are just about lulled into Lethe's arms, 'Garlic Serendipity' drops hard and post-industrially, all glitchy filters, white noise, grainy e-bow, and piston pumpings. It's an unwelcome incursion, but it rapidly let's up to allow 'As the Snow Leaves the Ground' to resume the high-church drone-drift rites, with glacial comb-filter tones layered and stretched out, looping and spiralling miles-high. An exquisite musical high point is reached, and it's here where something like emotional resolution occurs. Last track 'Love You' is an epilogue - a simple waltz-like keyboard étude that might have easily been omitted, for it's effect is akin to bathos after the powerful pull of the preceding quiet 11-minute snowstorm. Beautumn here affords an arena for a new creed of travelling without moving, a journey more existential, less blissed, an affair of wandering around and losing and finding and losing again. It's tones are those of loss. And of space. Lost in Space. And space music.' - Igloo Magazine.