Somewhere in Georgia, U.S.A., at the bottom of his garden under the old oak tree, Ernest Greene is surely weeping, listening to the ambient sounds on Anenon's 'This is What I Meant.' The song's gentle, softly-spoken bass blends gracefully into the affable breeze that meanders in and out between the seductive, spectral audio field of textures. This exact approach has been recurring lately for Los Angeles' Anenon, who greeted us this March with his debut EP Acquiescence to towering applause.

Now, pardon a music journalist's lack of timing to write a review for a credible producer sooner than this, but two months on, we still can't help but feel Inner Hue is sorely relevant. Anenon's newest conquest sees him venture out in what can only be described as a grandiose extension of his visionary Acquiescence, which was released on his own D.I.Y record label Non Projects.

Made up of 10 tracks, there's something largely peculiar about the cracking and ruminating melodies of the album. Strictly speaking, it doesn't contain any descriptive vocals (we don't quite think the "ooohs" and "aaahs" of 'Embers' quite reaches any level of decipherability), but it does carry an utmost sense of abstract narration and organic companionship that makes us feel, well, human. From the ambient, crackling climax of opener 'Eighty-Four' to the more central 'Murmurs,' Inner Hue is music that lives inside us, aching to break free and be heard by all.

That soulful sentiment alone is enough to keep us happier than Utterly-Butterly salesman John Lydon on a Question Time panel, without even beginning to mention the spectrum of delicate instrumentals used in Inner Hue's path. Take 'Memory Residue,' wherein 4/4 beats invite illuminating synth rhythms and flickering melodies. The deep, pulsating bass of the title track reminds you of the true essence of any well-arranged electronic song; it supports entirely while blending in effortlessly and, along with the echoing melodies and twitching beats, is nothing short of a truly beautiful song; it is the recognisable centre piece to the album. It's this agglomeration of instruments that really shines. Come 1:41, we're practically hanging off the cliff in all Inner Hue's cinematic roar.

And if that weren't enough to tickle your taste buds, Anenon offers 'Stone River,' which sees Brian jack out an impassioned minute-long sax solo just to prove he's not all Macbook wizardry. This doesn't go unaccompanied in the instruments of Rhodes and Rolands, which creep up elegantly throughout the rest of Inner Hue. The only real bugger is that there aren't more moments like these and that Brian didn't experiment with more instruments and layers to coax to his studied finesse. And with the gorgeous glockenspiel-bouncing lullaby 'Entwine' executing our timelessness haze perfectly, we remind electronic artists to take note: it's been two months since Anenon's Inner Hue's official release, but by hell, has he set the bar high.