When the record ends, it leaves you with a pretty unsettling feeling. One reason is the last track’s abrupt ending – »Peroration Six« basically breaks off right in the middle. Instead of gently cutting the paying audience’s cord with a fade-out, Floating Points has decided on his debut »Elaenia« to just call it a day at some point. This may appear random, but it is actually a clever move. It mirrors the record’s concept – a surreal being that is hard to grasp. It’s friendly and accessible, and still somewhat ethereously detached from the club, self-sufficient, mysterious. And above all, it’s nothing more than mature evidence of Sam Sheperd’s musical candor, which isn’t trying to fill existing formats but rather ventures to ooze out of these frames in the most elegant manner. In addition to Floating Points’ electronic devices, there are quite a few instruments trying to serve that very purpose – strings, guitars, drums. At some parts, you’ll be pleasantly reminded of Lonnie Liston Smith, but that’s only one of many possible references in Floating Points’ cosmos. He’s going his own way so very confidently that there’s no need for another name by his side. When things work out this well, it would be cheating to keep up the illusion of hypothetical infinity by slowly letting the music fade out. The cut at the end makes it clear that it’s time for reality to step up again. Or you just listen to the record again.