In space, no one can hear you meditate. Thankfully there’s the mysterious project called Urban Meditation that’s arrived to tell you that, indeed, you can in fact set your soul alight in the vacuum of the cosmos, provided you’re accompanied by waves of bubbly pulsations, trilling synths, and a chorus of disembodied phantasms to clearly mark the path. Whether or not the mind(s) behind this moniker have chosen their name to honor Mssr. Namlook and his similarly-titled, multi-chapter editions is, frankly, moot—this is surely the stuff expansive, intergalactic journeys are made of, bits and bursts of farflung stardust intermingling with the kinds of bass sequencer passages so beloved of Dreams Tangerine, Schulzian, or otherwise. Urban Meditation’s lineage may even have a more direct (yes) analog to the many space critters that emerged from the rubble of the 70s' Teutonic shifts (think folks such as Gert Emmens, Ian Boddy, Keller & Schonwalder, et al), married to the kind of blip-bots forged from an array of pre-millennial, post-trance/ambient/techno bleep factories (here’s looking at you Heavenly Music Corporation and the rest of the Silent majority). Meaty, trippy, beaty, and bouncy, the wrenching of these blokes’ sonic relics out of the great unknown has reaped dividends for our listening benefit, and we are all the more fortunate for it.