The minimal dub-techno landscapes that Jacob Long makes as Earthen Sea carry a sense of refinement and grace. Each element of his Kranky debut is radiant. It’s rare to have any vocals appear on of the fog-enshrouded landscapes that Jacob Long devises as Earthen Sea. But earlier this month, Long cleared out his hard drive with A Serious Thing, a nine-track compilation of tracks recorded in the past three years (with all proceeds going to the International Refugee Assistance Project, American-Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee, and the National Lawyers Guild). Less than a minute in, the voice of firebrand gay Harlem intellectual James Baldwin emerges from the mists and speaks of the crucial role of dreamers in their respective societies. “The poets (by which I mean all artists) are finally the only people who know the truth about us,” Baldwin said. “Soldiers don’t, statesmen don’t, priests don’t, union leaders don’t. Only the poets.” And while there are no words and no voices that appear on An Act of Love, Long’s debut for Kranky, that poet’s search for an undeniable truth powers the eight breathtaking tracks that appear here. A hardcore veteran who’s played in D.C. bands like Amalgamation and Black Eyes, Long later played bass in the adventurous punk act Mi Ami. Over time, that trio mutated from art-rock towards the sounds of Chicago house and Jamaican dub, soon splintering into three separate electronic acts: drummer Damon Palermobecame Magic Touch and guitarist Daniel Martin-McCormick became Ital. Long himself took the foundations of dub as the starting point for his next iteration, Earthen Sea. Much like the godfathers of minimal techno—Moritz von Oswald and Mark Ernestus, Vladislav Delay circa Multila, the entire Chain Reaction roster—Long realized there was sublimity to be had in endless reverb, delay, and its sonic residue. And with 2014’s Mirage, released on Martin-McCormick’s Lovers Rock label, Earthen Sea’s aesthetic solidified. An Act of Love is a continuation of that effort, though there’s a feeling of refinement and awareness that gives each element here a heightened radiance. Even in the buzzing static and air organ chords that comprise beatless opener “The Present Mist,” there’s a sense of grace, of deep breaths being drawn musically that makes it standout from other ambient noise of its ilk. Earthen Sea makes minimal dub techno, but while Long’s components are suggestive of dance music—especially the 707 that drives most of the tracks—the context for each programmed hit seems to not be a packed club. Rather, Earthen Sea could soundtrack a depopulated metropolis, each beat bouncing off of concrete. A squelchy kick drives “About That Time” and other elements wash in: a canned clap, a tapped ride cymbal, a piano line as contemplative and sonorous as that of Harold Budd. But underneath all of that is a gloriously slow swell of white noise, which rises and falls like an incoming tide and is mesmerizing in and of itself. -Pitchfork