I want to put them in a shoebox full of wood shavings and keep them under my bed. This guitar/vocals duet are warm without being wet, romantic without being twee, and retain a dark undercurrent while bobbing merrily along in their rickety old coracle.

I'll start with 'Wind and High Water', which is my favourite of the handful of tracks you can listen to right now. While Lianne Turner's vocals undoubtedly have a contemporary appeal, it's a world away from the BRIT school bad/strange girl contrivances we get rammed down our neck every day of the week. In short, it feels real, harbouring an aching sadness you might hear in a long-lost Molly Drake recording. The delicate guitar figures lend an English earthiness to the bittersweet, lilting melody.

It's really beautiful to hear in this unadorned form; alas, this kind of music is readily co-opted by commercial interests at the moment, and is easily debased not only by association but also ill-directed investment: image consultants, hammed-up vocals, or worse still, 'funky' horn stabs courtesy of some inexplicably big name producer. 'Melodies, Landscapes' has a gentle grace which is so lacking in much of the saccharine and chrome of so-called 'nu-folk'. It has a repeating guitar figure like a musical toy; it's hypnotic, never tiresome. Most recent track 'The Answer' is less my cup of tea, but it does have hazy existential reflections stressed with jazz chords that beckon you under its parasol.

This is not to say Atlas Twins should forever remain in some kind of sepia rosewood lo-fi halcyon day – give them a Korg and a mixer, and I still think they'd come up with something charming. They manage to strike a tasteful balance of emotion, which is damn hard to achieve with such minimal arrangements and heartfelt words.