As the title indicates, the music on the debut album from a Seattle ambient-drone maestro (who apparently doesn't like giving out his birth name) sounds as besotted with My Bloody Valentine (whose 1990 EP was also called Glider) as with Gas, the influential, atmospheric minimalist electronica project of German techno producer Wolfgang Voigt. Those acts form the clear coordinates for Glider's 49 warm, pulsating minutes, in which heavily treated guitar nuzzles up to enveloping laptop-generated haze and a just-submerged four-on-the-floor kick-drum pulse. (There's also a free three-song EP available at ghostly.com, none of which is repeated on the album.) Played low in the background, it all merges together, which is surely the point, but crank it and the tracks' discrete details emerge, such as the pointillist single-note guitar and carefully sculpted overtones of "Dour," or the glacial harmonics that swirl over the top of "A Fractured Smile." Sure, any album that's as all-timbre as this one is going to seem a little one-note. But it's a pretty lovely note.

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