Recommended music: 'Kite Without A String' by Beach Moon/Peach Moon

Another release from the bijou Paper Trail records, this hazy, gently lo-fi record will slowly drift into your consciousness. Full of warmth and tinkling melodies, it's an album that never outstays its welcome but makes the most of the time it has with you.

Starting life as a solo vehicle for Robert Prisco from San Francisco (I love how that rhymes), but since expanded to a full band, at its heart Beach Moon/Peach Moon revolves around Prisco's high, softly-sung vocals. Like Mercury Rev's Jonathan Donahue but with less angst, he subtly swoops through the tunes, using his voice as an integral instrument within the overall set-up. Meanwhile the lyrics are full of missed opportunities and stolen moments that fit well with Prisco's world-weary delivery. "Thoughts are fleeting, seething through my barren bones" he sings on The Fog, one of many references to the natural world and our environment. On 'Firefly Stars' he tells us how "She filled my sky a deep dark indigo, That's how I saw how bright the moon was", before moving on to the end of the relationship on the title track: "I'm not mad at you, I'm just sad at us".

Overall then it's a wistful but not downbeat album, full of touching moments and hidden pleasures. Well worth a listen.

Track of the Day: 'Heated Cliff' by The Cyclist

For his first new track since last year's 'Bones In Motion' album (see here for a review of that), Andrew Morrison continues to mine a rich seam of woozy analogue sounds. Fading in like a heartbeat, it soon crackles into life, as layer upon layer of distorted, hissy melodies and drums pile into each other, The result is a hypnotic groove of a track that just gets better and better.

Recommended music: 'Bones In Motion' by The Cyclist

Sometimes records go a long way to reach you. This one was mostly recorded in Derry, Northern Ireland, with a few extra bits in Geurande, France. I know not how, but it was picked up by the LA-based Leaving Records, who specialised in cassette-only releases. They in turn have now done a distribution deal with Stones Throw, who put this out on their Drip.fm subscription service, which is how I came to hear it.

There's a blurry, fuzzy, analogue warmth to the record - it sounds a bit like a mixtape that was made 20 or so years ago and that has played so much that the tape's started to wear away. Parts of it are woozy and wobbling, other bits are repetitive and rhythmic, and it somehow manages to sound like late '80s house and the soundtrack to the future as imagined by the BBC show Tomorrow's World. It's definitely a bit hypnotic, drawing you in to a trance-like state as you sink into The Cyclist's unique take on the world of electronic music.

Andrew Morrison (who is The Cyclist) has described his music as "an attempt to get to a time in electronic music where everything sounds warmer" - you can listen to a couple of tracks from the album and see if you think he's succeeded. For my money he's certainly managed to knock some of the sharp edges off the music, and in doing so he's created an album that's well worth listening to.