The press release that usually accompanies a new record for review will almost always mention where an album was recorded. It's widely accepted that, in attempting to visualise a story around any album, the landscape that surrounded the artist while recording it must play some role. Inner city, post-industrial warehouse blocks don't often give rise to pastoral folk albums.

Except, they do. All the time. Because, while landscapes undoubtedly inform an artist's palette, it doesn't take a genius to mentally project oneself somewhere a little more fitting for the sake of an album.

Hilary Woods co-produced Colt with the inordinately talented WIFE during a Berlin winter, and if you've ever been there and then you'll guess she didn't have to project much to wind up with the glassy, introspective results on display here. Once of JJ72, her compositions are a world away from that band, instead drawing on the simplest of percussive beats, foggy synth chords and her clipped, Irish delivery. The record is undoubtedly a satisfying whole, tonally consistent and with a definite air of emotional constriction. What it is not is emotionally engaging.

A chilly, synthetic air lies like a damp cloak over every track, particularly ‘Take Him In’, where the use of electronic reverb to thicken out Woods' vocal lends the whole thing a sense of affectation. The beats are similarly weightless, missing any natural space that could have been added by using the acoustics of the studio more to stretch out the mix. What we're left with is a record that sounds like it was made on a computer - which of course all albums are these days - although a lot don't set out to sound like that. It is atmosphere as programmed by a robot.

The nicest moments come when this template is broken a little. ‘Kith’ seeks to build some urgency with a restrained guitar riff and less since gloom, but the build doesn't lead anywhere especially interesting. ‘Sever’ tries to go James Blake with a simple (always simple) piano line, but fizzles out in less than 3 minutes.

I can't remember being as frustrated with an album as with Colt. Woods has a voice, and shows just how memorable an arrangement she can deliver on the conversational ‘Jesus Said’, with its brilliantly aimless cello notes that wander about until drawn together by one of the album’s rare, driving rhythms. Too often there doesn’t seem to be a definite roadmap. Other than a few brief moments, this record feels like a missed opportunity.