Lo-fi, intimate, extremely hushed meditations on isolation and loss. After more than a decade of captivatingly mysterious and warped ambient-drone-folk, Liz Harris (who’s originally from Sonoma County!!!) is finally getting extensive attention with her tenth and most minimal album. Here she mostly ditches her trademark gauzy guitars for a piano, and she leaves her vocals relatively untreated. Recorded largely on the Portuguese coast, this feels like a stark emotional portrait of a very specific (and rainy) place and time, but it could be a source of comfort anywhere or in any season. All tracks are excellent. No FCCs confirmed. (There might be one on 2, but I can’t tell and kind of doubt it.)

1. (1:39)—Instrumental. Field recordings. Slow, deep drumbeat.
2. (4:42)—FCC? Subdued, pensive, minimal.
3. (2:59)—Dark, slow piano. Dramatic, forlorn, high-pitched vocals.
4. (3:48)—Instrumental. Slow, circular piano. Machine beep at the end.
5. (5:44)—Multi-tracked vocals. Long coda, really, really beautiful. Frog sounds.
6. (1:33)—Instrumental. Brighter, faster piano. Rain sounds.
7. (7:57)— Soothing, major-key. Most extensive use of multi-tracked vocals. Sounds of rain and thunder.
8. (11:24)—Instrumental. Watery, submerged piano-like sounds fade into a series of drones. Calm and drifting, then eerie, then more like piano again, then eerie again, and finally calm again.