Midfielder The Wolfpen Cycles

The mysterious Torontonian meddler Zev Farber makes music drawn from all corners of the electronic map, with six oceans worth of heart flowing throughout. Many of the meditative pieces on this modest 19-song virtual nature trek unabashedly recall the bigger guns of electronica’s golden era (Boards of Canada, Aphex Twin) but Farber emulates his heroes’ styles and signatures so honestly, peacefully and naturally, his moves come off as honourable homage, as opposed to shameless pilfering. And that’s not to say The Wolfpen Cycles isn’t brimming over with personal accentuation: Farber’s stuttering rhythm style and knack for interweaving heart-shaped beds of warm melody with haunting background cacophony is entirely engrossing while retaining a humble, understated delivery that keeps many of this album’s secret treasures buried deep enough to lend itself well to repeated listening, wherein its countless little jewels slowly float to the surface of the listener’s attention over time. The Wolfpen Cycles might not be revolutionary stuff, but it’s nevertheless part of the cavalry, fighting the good fight. (Home Grown)