Matthew Barlow’s “Sound Meditation 3” is eight minutes of gently pulsing tones. They layer and they ripple. The ripples spread out as new tones emerge. Somehow the fragility is retained, despite the sequential activity, despite the accumulation of tones, the eternal reemergence of tones. The piece never comes close to suggesting, let alone reaching, anything like a critical mass. Everything passes with ease. Balancing the elegance is an underlying plasticity to the tones. It is light music made from vaguely unnatural sounds, a synthesizer’s vision of cloud formations, a silicon chip’s sense of water drops.