The acoustic Bristol trio Three Cane Whale inhabit a zone distinct from most folk and pop, a quiet place where “shadows on chalk hills” or “an acre of watery light” provide inspiration for gentle ruminations on place and mood. Like its predecessors, this third album drifts along on a shifting matrix of muted brass, chimes and diverse strings (“bowed psaltery” anyone?), augmented by Estonian violinist Maarja Nuut and cellist James Gow. Cut at Real World studios (and produced by Portishead’s Adrian Utley), it’s less evocative than their second album recorded in potting sheds and chapels, though bursts of birdsong on Wingmore and Gospel Pass attest to some plein air playing, and its sense of rural enchantment is unwavering.
