This compilation showcases Cortez’ soporific sound that lets the FX not just fill in the gaps between simple, repetitive jangly refrains but completely flood the mix setting the sparest of melodies adrift in smooth currents of distorted guitar. This often creates a kind of drowned, occasionally orchestral, sound as amply demonstrated by the opener, ‘Babys Breath’, or later on ‘Lips to Kiss’, where Cortez’ tone clusters provide shimmering backdrops to Arpin’s sugary wisps of song fragments that reluctantly and elusively hover and disappear like fragile leaves briefly carried and consumed by a flowing river. Theirs is a world where fast, percussive manoeuvres are made impossible by an inert atmosphere like that of a snow dome whose graceful falling shapes can never hurry.

The heavily processed and often backwards looped guitar work often sounds like the work of more than one individual - on more than one occasion it reminds of what can be heard of a distant outdoor stage from the campsite of a particularly windy festival. In the main, the seemingly singular approach, deliberately or otherwise lacking in much in the way of dynamics, rhythm or low end frequencies, gets increasingly predictable as the disc wears on, feeling like it was more novel to form - seeing microtunes gain macro properties through processing - than it is to consume.