At some point, Manchester musician David Tyack has surely stood inside a shop full of clocks, entranced by the hypnotic intermingling of the machines' clicks and bells. Then again, he could have listened as hordes of Japanese monks chanted softly, or heard the quiet hum of electricity pylons - for these are sounds conjured up by his second album.

The chief inspiration here, though, is Washington Irving's story, Rip van Winkle, in which a chap falls asleep in the Dutch mountains, and wakes to discover that the entire world has changed. With keyboards, music boxes, ticks and occasional guitars, Tyack builds atmospheres of breathy pondering and natural beauty, with quiet, drowsy nods to Ryuichi Sakamoto, Neu! and Fripp and Eno's No Pussyfooting opus. Former Can vocalist Malcolm Mooney, meanwhile, breaks a 17-year recording silence to read the entire text of Rip van Winkle over a minimal, gentle backing. A curious release, but one with a beguiling magic.