Tell Where I Lie is the debut album from David Fendick and Jonny Hooker, the brains behind multi-instrumental two piece Fossil Collective. The record follows on from earlier releases of two exquisite EPs that, in retrospect, displayed a steady progression in both melodic maturity and confidence towards this inevitable debut. Without reading too much into a name, there is a clear sense of reassembling and revival of the extinct, as a collective influence from across various eras echoes throughout the record. The classic song-writing of Fleetwood Mac and Neil Young merges with the contemporary melodies of Fleet Foxes and Bon Iver, as the great musical relics of the past are delicately shrouded in the modern 'indie-folk'.

Assertively opening the album is 'Let It Go', a hauntingly harmonised semi-acoustic track that despondently recalls the past, understands the impermanence of experience, and, as the title suggests, learns to let go. Although minimal and wholly regular, it is in the rest of the record where Fossil Collective experiment with various melodic complexities in an insistent yet methodical way. 'Under My Arrest' gradually builds sonic layers of acoustic power chords and orchestral string duets above a syncopated, driving rhythm, which float beneath waves of half-whispered vocal harmonies that calmly move towards a unified crescendo. 'Boy With Blackbird Kite' softly wavers between a weak melancholy and upbeat optimism, whereas 'Wolves', the first single to be taken from the album, uneasily quivers before an urgent drum pat jolts the melodic machine to life. Faint echoes of Pink Floyd's 'Wish You Were Here' refrain can be heard on 'Brother', a regretfully apologetic self-exploration, with pianos and brass, electrics and acoustics, blues and jazz.

Just beyond the half-way point is 'Monument', a track so painstakingly intricate and slow it feels like it lasts twice as long as it does – which isn't exactly a bad thing. Before the vocals come in, it could be considered a purely instrumental number, with the hum of a tremulous, hazy violin creating a ghostly echo in the distance. But following a grief-stricken vocal lament, everything fades – everything except a hauntingly distant piano and the ricocheting shimmer of guitars as the entire song feels nervously suspended in time, until a deep, droning cello alleviates the tension. 'On and On' is the follow up single to 'Wolves', a startling contrast to the previous 'Monument' with its sense of endless urgency and searching, a journey that is perhaps continued on into 'When Frank Became An Orb', which depicts the confusing paths faced in emotional relationships.

The record draws to a close with a sense of an increasingly raw vulnerability. Most of the electrics are removed altogether, leaving the song writing and acoustic arrangement open to scrutiny – or an opportunity to evoke the utmost poignancy in a listener. 'Magpie' combines an insistent, fingerpicked guitar with restrained vocals, whilst 'How Was I To Know' sounds like a live acoustic performance complete with ukulele arpeggios, plaintive vocals and intimate melodies that effortless weave into and out of each other in an emotional waltz.

In spite of the musical diversity present throughout, there is a constant undercurrent of tenderness that, no matter the pace, instrumentation or lyrical aesthetic, is the most affecting element of Tell Where I Lie. The album is a powerful constellation of thoughts that, through the blossoming talents of Fossil Collective, has resulted in a collection of songs that thrive on a heightened sensitivity and enchantment. The images that float to mind upon listening create a softening of the inner self, a relaxing of the psyche and an opening up to the hidden, unexplored corners of our hearts. Confident without being garish or overpowering, it is nevertheless an empowering and uplifting record that focuses far more on structuring each component by removing the fragile, individual, pieces from their isolation and uniting them into something collectively self-assured and inspiring.