“This is your life, don’t let it just happen to you,” are the very first words Hannah Cohen sings on her third album, Welcome Home. It lays her mission statement out rather neatly: don’t let all the drama ruin the moment. While many an artist in Cohen’s folk pop lane opt for wistful album-length ruminations on loss and love, she is much more one for the simple things.

If there’s one secret weapon determining Welcome Home’s success, it’s surely Cohen’s voice. It floats by with seeming impossible lightness, eerily perfect, dancing with grace over any track set before her. Very much a labor of love, in more ways than one, the album is produced by Sam Owens (better known as Sam Evian), alongside whom she began writing the album’s material in 2017 as their relationship blossomed into an idyllic home life (needless to say, hence the record’s title).

Unsurprisingly, then, the album is largely one uncomplicated by feelings of doubt or sadness, existing in the bliss of love as certainty, rather than potential. When there are moments of dismay, such as ‘What’s This All About’, they’re viewed from a place of healing, past trials and losses left behind. To the casual listener, Welcome Home may well at first sound uncomplicated, but, to the contrary, it’s a snapshot of a moment in time, that blissful time spent at a relationship’s peak, straddling the uppermost rocks, hoping to never need descend.

To be sure, Cohen’s voice doesn’t do all the heavy lifting. The instrumentation is lush, and Owens’ production pristine, with each and every layer given time to shine. It can all be a bit glossy, but how else should one approach such joy? It suits the feelings found here well, and makes Welcome Home and endlessly pleasant abode to inhabit.

The pair credit the likes of Marvin Gaye and Carole King for influencing the record, and the blend isn’t entirely surprising. The latter artist in particular is audible in Cohen’s enchantment with life, the former in the deft handling of the playing to be found behind her performance.

To be fair, Hannah Cohen is playing in a crowded field, and this particular album's very nature doesn’t make it a likely contender to muscle to the front of a loud room, but therein lies its charm. This is undemanding music for a pleasant day with a loved one. The bruised adoration of 'Return Room', in particular, is gorgeous to lay within. With any luck, it’s sunny outside. If you’re luckier still, you have a porch with a hammock at the ready. Grab whomever makes you smile most and spend 40 minutes in Welcome Home’s contented, blissful little world. I imagine there's little more its creators would hope for.