Like a much-loved antique wooden automaton, Annelie’s weather-beaten upright piano rattles and clunks, pedals creaking in mechanical counterpoint. It’s a hypnotic, analog accompaniment to her beautifully spare piano anthems. Each piece, with its simple, mysterious title, rolls into the next, creating an album that ebbs and flows, its silences and sustained chords conjuring a sense of timelessness, calm, and space. The opening, “At Night,” a brooding homage to Radiohead, sets the tone with its waltzing time signature, while the central track, “A World,” meanders, pausing as if to gather its thoughts. The closing, “Quiet,” leaves us hanging, urging us to keep this transfixing album on loop.