His sound is still dream-folk, but these songs seem more . . . mature, I guess. Better constructed, perhaps; the instruments blend seamlessly with the samples of birdsong and rushing water to create an atmosphere of reflective melancholy.
That makes the whole thing sound grim, doesn’t it. This is not a grim record! Sad and lovely, yes; depressing, no. It is, I think, comfort food for souls who do not especially mind being left to their own devices for extended periods of time.
For example, here’s The Coppice/A Haunting, which sounds like a late afternoon walk by a creek running high:
And Sail Cloth, which sounds like a small boat gliding through an arch of trees towards rough water:
In conclusion: Sepulchre, or, a murder of crows rises and wheels across the sky, headed out of the valley – but they’ll be back, they always are, because this is home.