If you’re looking for muted mystery, Jessica Pratt’s third album, as its title suggests, will enigmatically oblige. Quiet disquiet has been the California singer-songwriter’s subtle weapon since her debut, and these nine songs, fully and beautifully recorded in a professional studio for the first time, stick to the winning formula, centred around hypnotically simple acoustic repetitions, muted piano and Pratt’s soft siren calls.

The ersatz vintage grain of folkish chamber-pop confections such as This Time Around and Fare Thee Well could almost have you believe she’s some lost, private-pressed psychedelic prophet, dug up by a label like Light in the Attic or Trunk Records, were it not for the post-millennial tone of her child-witch voice, so reminiscent of CocoRosie or early Joanna Newsom. The likes of Here My Love and Poly Blue beguile with an eerie, emotionally distant, dissipated prettiness, adorned with occasional bursts of psych flute. Pratt saves the best for last, though, with the complex, shifting emotions of Aeroplane, which hints at a haunted, Mazzy Star-ish darkness, her voice flitting playfully into deeper registers. It really is the quiet ones you have to watch.