Separated into two discs, with a lovely vellum booklet and a mirrored picture of tracks in snow. Soft, drapey, strumming, would at first be classified as easy listening except for the thick atmospheric drone and gently protesting vocals on top. Something a bit urgent about it, like singing worshipfully of the cold but you've got to get indoors before you catch hypothermia.

Thick clattering of windchimes, bamboo or copper maybe, with a Japanese samurai lilt. It gets noisier, more narrative, less rhythmic but still familiar. Drippy, like vivid oil paints in the high noon sun. This music plays with temperature!

It's spongy, too, like it's emanating from an absorbent object, some reverse black hole ("Willing"), not the nebulous suction sound attributed to them but harmonic, wavery after having traveled a distance, enveloping. The echoes are very strange. "Tubular Bells" heard deep underwater, a spattering of subequatorial acoustics.

Drifting, but also marching, nonsensical: "Trust Nothing" is a well-thought title - trust not the beat, the century, the path of the highly varied instruments. 8/10 -- April Larson (15 July, 2009)