A meditative collection of tracks dating from 2009. Many layers of sound created as a template for devotional music.

Celebrated with a page-long in-depth review in The Wire by Simon Reynolds, who compared the opening track to a "The Orb" song, among other things ...

Recorded in the summer of 2009, in Antwerp - Belgium. Released by Release The Bats - Sweden, february 2010. Reissued on cassette by CN Cassettes, 2011.

"That all these quixotic seal-calls and blurps are tied together so expertly into 20-minute treks is only sweet gravy drizzled overtop an already-tasty bed of buttery mashed potatoes. Not to get so “cartoon-y” with it — I feel like I’ve done nothing but throw out adjectives this whole review — but Dolphins Into The Future, ever since its maiden vinyl voyage on Not Not Fun last year, are so much fun I’m helpless to control my imagination. For a reviewer who has enjoyed/suffered, say, a 50-50 split so far when it comes to really getting in bed with long-form drone/space/lift/synth-hazard recordings, Martens’ music serves as a refreshing change, fluid to the point of absurdity and downright ADD-addled in its cycles. A must for the Kranky elite and several other indie swaths from Sunn to Stunned to O. Point Never." (Tiny Mix Tapes)

"(...)en toch verslikten wij ons in een sigaret toen we lazen over Martens’ plannen met dolfijnen en New Age. Was dit dan toch misschien de brug te ver? Nee, zo bleek al uit talloze cassettes op Martens’ eigen Cetacean Nation Communications en uit ‘On Sea-Faring Isolation’ op Not Not Fun, en nee, zo blijkt nu ook weer uit het sterke ‘The Music Of Belief’, een ouderwetse plaat, waarop je geen nummer ongestraft van plek kan veranderen. Track één – ‘The Voice of Incorporeality (Being A Poem Of Silence)’ – duurt een half uur, maar we hebben ‘m al minstens acht keer beluisterd zonder te skippen. Dat is een verdienste waar véél uitstekende popsongs van drie minuten zich niet op kunnen beroepen. Los daarvan is dit een track vol super intense geluiden die veel rustzoekende New Age-adepten waarschijnlijk overstuurd schreeuwend richting horizon jaagt. Maar wie zijn psychedelica daarentegen graag iets diepgravender heeft, weet zich bij deze uitgenodigd." (Gonzo Circus)

"listening to lieven martens' new digispinnner on release the bats is enigmatic in the sense that you could never get into your cortex that this is actually not made using no recording equipment at all, and probably also not made in paradise but rather in an antwerp apartment while cars honk n holler outside. its enveloping and takes your body even more so than your mind into a different place, no pressure zone. my back is feeling better already, despite sitting on a reg kitchen chair sloping that spine into oblivion. of course since being dolphins into the future the first part is the sound of underwater holidaze and cetacean whoops and sonar, intense and really basket weave full on phil spector this time wave not wall of sound style new age. second part is a sound log of an explorer's travels over the course of seven entries. the vibe is that of a true documentation of experience of places not familiar yet perplexingly familiar, vacationing inside the rainforest inner self. it couldnt possibly take me any higher right now. heres to the possibility that it will never end." (Facial War)

""The Voice Of Incorporeality," the 30 minute opening track of Martens's first CD release, actually reminds me a little of "A Huge Ever Growing Pulsating Brain That Rules from the Centre of the Ultraworld," The Orb's debut single. It raises the delicious thought that Martens is, deliberately or not, pushing retro-chic into the early Nineties, or one sector thereof: chill out rooms, smart drinks, Mixmaster Morris, Fax Records, Telepathic Fish, etc. But since that moment had its own retro-futurist and "cosmic camp" invocations going on, "Voice" equally reminds me of Rainbow Dome Musick, the two LP-side-long compositions recorded by Steve Hillage as an ambient soundscape for the 1979 Festival of Mind-Body-Spirit. Like that album's "Garden of Paradise", just about every sound in "Voice" is a glisteningly gauche signifier of Heaven or Eden. The trickle of a waterfall and the liquid chirruping of tropical birds establish the mise-en-scene: an aquatic bower-of-bliss in a jungle clearing. Harp-like twinkles of synth cascade gently while a dazzling drone gyrates, like a polygon whose mirrored facets keep catching a shaft of sunlight. Yet this isn't really New Age: the music's contours aren't picked-out cleanly enough, everything's too saturated and overloaded, and as the never-changing/ever-shifting track reaches its end the final effect is bruising bliss." (The Wire)