I’m hesitant to call Telo Hoy’s debut album, Rubber Wing, a breath of fresh air—but it does make you hyper aware of the air around you. Through a series of delicately-crafted vibraphone and synthesizer compositions, Hoy immerses you in a soundscape that hovers between ambient, classical, and electronic, expanding outward as the tracks progress. Perhaps Rubber Wing refers to a synthetic technology pushing air in order to create motion, to lift off and fly.

Hoy and his collaborators, Zubin Hensler and Andrew Weathers, who respectively mixed and mastered the album, made something that might qualify as ambient, but it demands your attention as it grabs ahold of you. Every strike, every crackle, every hum grows into this momentous feeling that ebbs, flows, and ceases.

In the space Hoy creates, you’ll encounter “Melody for a Dying Star,” the shortest track of the album, but one in which the mallets take over, with a certain pace to their strikes that isn’t rushed, but condenses time significantly more than other compositions. You’ll also find empty pockets of sound, especially after passing through the lush, dense “One Thousand Sirens.” Are these the sirens of Homer’s Odyssey, or do they or are they the sounds of an emergency? Fittingly, the album closes with “Exiting the Station” and you wonder if all of these movements have been within, after which you realize that the air returns to a standstill.