In 1991, Mute Records issued a compilation titled The Tyranny of the Beat. Over the years, Data Breaker has been guilty of fostering this up-tempo'd tyranny, but sometimes it's good to take a break (pun intended) from rhythm's relentless propulsion and revel in beatless space. One of Seattle's most accomplished accomplices in this pursuit is Phønøn (aka multi-instrumentalist Chris Hanis).

Hanis has been toiling in obscurity for over a decade, most notably in the darkly atmospheric Soov with Wyndel Hunt, who later released CDs for ambient-music bastion Dragon's Eye Recordings. When Soov dissolved, Hanis formed Phønøn with Adam Reza. That configuration broke up in 2009, leaving Hanis to carry on solo, Phønøn-ing to galaxies beyond.

"I really enjoy working with other people, and I continue to collaborate on other projects," Hanis says. "But at the same time, it's been good to have the freedom to take Phønøn in some new directions without having to negotiate every step of the way with a partner. Working alone has also helped me stretch as a musician and has allowed me to find some new sound spaces that I never would have discovered otherwise."

Phønøn's vaporous, enigmatic drones can be traced back to admitted Hanis favorites like Brian Eno, Robert Fripp, Jon Hassell, and Harold Budd (geniuses all), with attributes of metaphysical sci-fi author Philip K. Dick and surrealist filmmaker David Lynch factoring into his aesthetics.

Ambient music typically treads a fine line between tedium and bliss and/or an unsettling quality. Obviously this is subjective, but how does Hanis know when he's attained those coveted latter states?

"It's difficult to make compelling ambient music for the reason that its very nature is to lurk in the background, gently stalking around in the space. Eno's original vision of ambient was of an environmental music that functions as a background to an overall space, becoming integrated with it. When you're no longer focusing on the foreground, you're using the space itself as part of the architecture. It's like those Japanese paintings where you see a tiny figure engulfed by a massive landscape or sky. Unlike the chords in a pop song, there usually aren't well-defined landmarks that you can easily latch on to. The artist is forced to work from a much more psychologically subtle palette. Instead of pointing in a specific direction, it's a kind of an inductive process of lulling the listener into the space so that it happens organically and without conscious awareness. A person once described listening to my music as ending up in some faraway place, but not remembering driving there or even having been in a car at all. When I get that kind of reaction, I know that I've captured something powerful in the music."

Pillow Full of Drone featuring Phønøn, Vox Vespertinus, Joy Von Spain, Celadon, Sataray happens Sun Jan 31, Visionary Dance Studio, 4128 Fremont Ave N, 8 pm, $5, all ages; www.visionarydance.com.