Despite running nearly an hour it's infinitely fascinating and much more interesting than you might think. The music slowly evolves in ebbs and flows, builds incrementally - almost unnoticaebly - to climactic pinnacles of various moods and timbres before slowly stretching back out to infinity and being enveloped by its own decay, only to be replaced with softly swelling orbs of pure sound.
Eno has the ablity to coax warm, calming tones out of his synthesizers and computers that no one else can really get close to. Long time listeners will recognise that soothing rush of tranquility that certain sounds of his generate in your brain.
Of course, and this may surprise people unfamiliar with ambient, it's not all hippy-dippy bullshit. Eno's always explored unease (see 1982's Ambient 4: On Land which gets agitatingly ominous at points), and Reflection is no different.
Here he masterfully shifts gears on you, the atmosphere changing without notice, as a vaguely sinister and unsettling sense of unease washes over you before it too is washed away under the returning calm.
Eno, of course, is the master of this stuff. As the title suggests, the music here reflects what you project onto it. It blends seamlessly into the background if you're busy but also proves to be a rewarding and compelling listen when given your full attention.
Brian Eno
Reflection
Warp Records
Verdict: A fascinating and compelling ambient work