Analogies between productive activities of music labels (and laboratories!) and factories which makes blenders and other kitchen-aid tools are nowadays more relevant than in the past, but this is not to be considered a pejorative exemplification, especially if whisked and beaten stuff tastes good and assortment of recipes is so rich! Well, you could object against such an association with arguments related to commodity economics, as thinking to a factory of blenders could evoke an imaginary crowded by backcombed housewives exhibiting seducing plastic smiles, but I'm pretty sure you will easily recognize these new musical features by skillful electronic juggler Barry Lynn (most known as Boxcutter) are somehow vintage, even if that lovely nostalgic affection he translates into sonic language has been addressed to the glorious dawn of internet (or better its achievement as a mass phenomenon, maybe second best just to scratch'n'win lotteries or porn movies) as you may guess from the references you'll notice by giving the tracklist a cursory glance or just by pressing "play" button and listening the initial tracks, "NeoGeocities" (many of you should recognise The Host mentions Geocities, a notorious free web-hosting serive, now active just in Japan, maybe a possible explanation of the fact this track features that kind of harmonics, which are associated to Japanese electronic music's sonorities), where there's a combination of analog and digital sonic pulses, as well as sounds which look like having been grabbed from old and new modems, including some modulations of the unmistakable raspberry coming from old analogic modem after dialing provider's telephone number, and "Angel Fire" (another glorious ISP belonging to Internet's golden age), where a guitar played with the typical palm mute technique has been perfectly set into a flowing stream of synth pads and spirited 808 drumming. This sort of historical re-enactment runs in parallel to an exhumation of sonic stimulations - often stuffed with that space-rock cream of effected guitars - which are able to evoke that sort of daydreaming period and its promising load of progressionist expectations, a bunch of hopes ideally watered by Juno-106 smelling arpeggiated synths of "Hidden Ontology", the faint lights evoked by the brightful melodies of tracks like "3AM Surfing" and "Summer Solstice at Cape Canaveral" (my favorite track of the whole album), the relaxing and balancing mood of "Aeontology", evoking that kind of extatic feelings awaken while observing northern light shows, the nocturnal reverie of the final track "Birthday Blubells" and so on. In many moments of the record, you could be overwhelmed by a "paradise lost"-like childish nostalgia and particularly if you're an IT senior manager of some collapsing company or a broker who made good deals when Internet speculative bubbles used to fluctuate in stock markets, The Host's sonorities are going to inject that kind of bittersweet feeling you could experience while glancing through a photobook with a plenty of shots immortalizing your first birthdays' parties.