Virginia-raised, LA-based artist Lael Neale is keen to avoid fuss. To avoid the “arduous production” of early recording sessions, on her Sub Pop debut, she strips things back to minimal instrumentation and embraces the imperfections of a first take.

Her lyrics are intuitive, meandering between memory and fantasy. As she ponders the rituals of the mundane – folding sheets, making toast, watching strangers in the street – her old-timey vocals and country-folk melodies make gorgeous, placid trails, gently crackling on the four-track tape. Like an early Lana Del Rey without the theatrics, it’s music to feel absently, romantically blue to: White Wings is melancholy and nostalgic, How Far Is It to the Grave artfully macabre, and Blue Vein seems coated in Super-8 sepia, wings quivering for flight. None of them ask much from the listener – it is enough to listen in as she gently unpacks her consciousness, her questions directed inward.

Neale’s commitment to quiet sometimes leaves you hankering for a big finish. The lush omnichord of Every Star Shivers in the Dark nudges towards a cathartic release but keeps its toes stubbornly curled around the edge of the diving board. The churchy bliss of Let Me Live By the Side of the Road has the potential to reach Fleetwood Mac heights – folky songwriting bolstered by pop power – but it fades into the ether on the edge of nirvana. There is comfort in Neale’s introversion, but you long for her to burst free; for a hint more dynamic texture to fully render her vignettes.