This debut by duo Robert Gomez and Anna-Lynne Williams is a delicate, airspun collection of tunes that wisp by on the wind, dissipating before the listener realizes it’s gone. The instrumentation seems weightless. Providing color to Williams’ weedy, graceful voice and Gomez’ occasional gruff growl are simply picked guitar, glowing harmonium, and barebones percussion (Ormonde's, er, charming version of Serge Gainsbourg’s “Lemon Incest” moves with shakers as its sole percussion). Feeling just as surreal as the duo's album cover art, these songs—recorded in a short period of time in a small West Texas house—feel as remote as the artists might have felt in the recording process. (Williams hails from Seattle, Gomez from Denton, Texas.) Gomez's ghostly vocal delivery on the lovely, bad-dream waltz “Cherry Blossom” is a slightly unsettling yet mesmerizing four minutes, and the minor-chord fingerpicking circling under Williams' velvety voice on “I Can’t Imagine” gives the gorgeous tune a dark underpinning. Machine is beautiful in many ways and for many reasons, promising a unique partnership ahead.