When wrote the songs for her sophomore album, 2020's , during a self-imposed period of isolation, she couldn't have known that the COVID-19 pandemic was soon going to force that hand. Following a stretch of being unable to write, the follow-up, , was eventually penned haltingly over the course of two pandemic years, a time span that coincided with an ill-fated relationship ultimately tracked in real time through her songs. There's a similarly delicate, melancholy sigh to as to its predecessor, despite a new production team ( and herself) and its in-the-moment inspirations. She sets the stage with "Map of Japan," whose sultry, midtempo twang, active bass, spare drums, vibraphone-style Mellotron, and breathy vocals could pass muster as a tribute to . That band is a fitting reference point for the hazy, ruminative zone of , which was mixed by 's and has occasional gritty electric guitar interjections, including on this song. The album goes on to offer a range of dreaminess, arguably reaching its lushest and loudest point on the jammy outro to "Superglued," its liveliest on the appreciative, post-breakup "Lights Light Up" (though there is a case to be made for the jaunty but fatalistic "Pick"), and its sparsest on the brittle, comfort-seeking "Henry," which still features a full band. The musical contrasts aren't far-ranging, however, and similarly, even the most optimistic lyrics seem to be biding time ("I guess we don't really know what we're looking for/'Til we have everything and still want more"). ends at what seems like the middle of the story, on a train home to her partner ("I made no promises that I would stay, but I'll try") on the atmospheric "Half Finished," whose quiet shimmer, echoing multi-tracked vocals, and not-so-quiet woolly effects are ultimately suffocating. ~ Marcy Donelson