Tu Fawning's music is crafted to sound timeless, like it could have come from any period or place. It often works; 'Anchor' opens with tribal drums, while 'Blood Stains' sounds Victorian - somewhere between a Gothic fantasy and a gospel choir. Eerie choral pieces like 'Skin and Bone' could even be inserted appropriately into that future opera scene in The Fifth Element.

Nevertheless, the most obvious reference points are thoroughly modern. Joe Haege's layered, reverb-heavy vocal could belong to Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, while lead singer Corrina Repp is an aural dead ringer for Victoria Legrand of Beach House.

That latter duo is an especially apt comparison. Like them, Tu Fawning are elegant and considered. Their songs don't jump from section to section; they evolve slowly, with common threads tying everything up. Think petals in time-lapse bloom, or a single tracking shot instead of fractured scenes. There are lots of different sounds here - including a music shop's worth of instruments and plenty of studio trickery - but strong production ensures everything meshes perfectly together.

The result is, in truth, a little too smooth. Successful contemporaries like the aforementioned Bon Iver have moments of ice-thin delicacy, as well as endings of climactic bombast. Moments that dare to go for the jugular. A Monument isn't nearly as bold. The build-up on 'To Break Into' could have been mountainous, but it just never gets there. 'In The Centre of Powder White', meanwhile, as stark as it is, could have been even more skeletal. The songs end up sounding like stories, rather than personal confessions. We get the emotions second-hand. It's the difference between a photograph of a scenic view, and actually being there. There's no doubting its beauty. But even if the composition, lighting and Photoshop after-effects are impeccable - as they certainly are here - it's somehow not quite the same.