Son of a preacher man (Wiltshire vicar to be more precise) Stephen Fiske releases his second album following his debut ‘This Is How I Write’ in 2005.

Fiske describes his music better than I ever could. Treated piano is used as the basis of “melodic elements” employed as ”abstract complementary patterns… repeated in different timbres and combinations to create more emotive music”. Fiske then adds synthetic acoustic sounds and environmental samples to lend the songs a more authentic sense of personality.

The result is positive. Albeit a short album at little over 35 minutes, Manhood And Electronics is a gently persuasive body of work, perhaps leaning towards the textural resonances of early Brian Eno.

Following the short, dulcet pleasantry that is Barnab, Ter4 invites the listener into a warm electronic cocoon of piano-led melodies enveloped by drifting atmospheric synthesiser sounds. Frum is more deliberately engaging, its mellow melodies laid on a platter of fragile, broken percussive beats.

Chantiers Navala exhibits Fiske’s versatility, featuring an awkward sounding collective of textured synth sounds – some string-based. It has a monastic feel to it, yet carrying an underlying feeling of dread that’s queasily effective.

Track 6, Tam, is another top track. Again, directed at the observant listener who likes to dissect his music rather than be immediately impressed, passive electronic sounds build into a crescendo of drone-based ambiences. Tram, meanwhile, introduces a drifting beat to add a sense of motion, driving Fiske’s sumptuous, melancholy melodies forward – again, the combination is highly engaging.

Whilst Fiske doesn’t quite have the superpower technique of his idol Eno, it’s too his credit that he rarely panders to his audience. Manhood And Electronics is a confident, intricate and resourceful ambient electronic album that doesn’t pull up trees but does offer a consistently pleasant, if not enchanting experience.