This slow, rich, melancholy debut from Danish musician Majike Voss Romme is a masterpiece—no joke. It’s a pensive and naturalistic singer-songwriter record that fits in with those of artists ranging from Sibylle Baier to Marissa Nadler and Angel Olsen. But it’s much more than that; Romme has perfected the ability to reach maximum tension and release while always keeping her voice and arrangements at a simmer. I can imagine her being introduced as an honorable guest in revered music halls everywhere. All these songs are utterly brilliant, but particular favorites are 3, 5, 9, 10. No FCCs.

1. (3:57)—Chilly, spare piano. Somber strings. Simple, threatens to turn epic but thankfully never does.
2. (3:35)—Minimal, led by two tracks of guitar. The “pop” song, only by dint of its conventional structure. Could have been on many a late 60s folk record.
3. *(4:31)—Dramatic. Toms, yearning strings. Takes an abrupt left turn—rhythm turns syncopated, a drone enters, strings return.
4. (3:29)—Back to the minimal piano. Airy, mourning horns.
5. *(3:24)—Crepuscular, jazzy, droning. A glitchy but subtle and very tasteful synth distinguishes this.
6. (4:30)—Slightly Western, Tarnation-ish feel to this one. Toms return, + tambourine + flute drone + a little twangy guitar.
7. (4:08)—A poppy piano chord progression made fresh again by Romme’s restraint. Builds and once again drifts back into calm without triumph.
8. (5:13)—Operatic and repetitive—the big one. Intense bowed + plucked strings. Faded, incredibly sad vocals. Ends cold.
9. *(4:00)—A cappella for the first and last minute, instruments enter slowly. When the backing vocals hit their peak, it feels deathly like little else.
10. *(5:59)—Very slow, despairing and yet expansive and majestic, making good on Romme’s promise to “fill your space with light.” A perfect cap to an immaculate album.