Cyano

Until Cyano, Emily Sprague maintained two spiritually similar but stylistically divergent streams of creative output: Intimate singer-songwriter-y indie folk with the band Florist and naturalistic synthesizer music under her own name. Cyano reconciles those two sides, layering tender, almost childlike vocals over soothing miniatures whose blurring of natural and synthetic sounds recalls the kind of music captured on ’80s Japanese ambient compilations like Kankyō Ongaku (“Double Moon,” “Sing To”) and the spacier side of late-’90s IDM (“Under Tone,” “Noon Liquid Ore”).

The biggest difference is the scale: Where Sprague’s previous instrumental albums (Cloud Time is a great place to start) stretched out, the short pieces on Cyano capture the instantaneous quality of a good thought had on a walk in the woods: brief, surprising, temporary.