Montreal guitarist and improviser Bernard Falaise present an album of jeweled miniatures constructed of finger-picked guitar arpeggios and electronic treatments. The album is generally quiet and contemplative, like studying the patterns of shifting light and shadow on your afternoon wall.

"Distillations" offers clouds of harmonics with squelchy, wheezy organ tones accreting. A few of the pieces stop dead and change tack in an arresting manner, not so much jarring as re-aligning, like an intake of breath. The longest piece, "Porcelain 360" has metallic, vibraphone tones and weird bent organ swells, a toy piano amid careful chord shapes which gradually gain speed and density over its twelve minute running time. It's lopsided, but still managing to maintain a sense of development. "Marcher sur la Glace" has a stuttering, Leslie speaker feel, and "Stalactites et Stalagmites" sets up a stately series of strummed chords with hovering held tones that gradually becomes more harmonically complex. For some reason I am reminded of a weighted hanging thread, slowly spinning one way and then the other, throwing tiny shards of fiber in graceful arcs as they glide to the floor.

Somewhat hidden inside the cover are chord diagrams and short bits of musical staff.