Ambient music, soft and soothing as it tends to be, is forced to talk a delicate tightrope: the genre’s best works are interesting enough to be engaging, but not so active as to become distracting. Harpist Mary Lattimore and vocalist Julianna Barwick have both been plugging away at that exact balance for quite some time now, filling their respective releases with rich sound inclusions and floating melodies. Finally, the duo have seen fit to combine their efforts. ‘Tragic Magic’ is hardly the most daring release of the year so far, but the ambient beauty on display here is nonetheless breathtaking.

On its face, this collaborative record feels like a wholly natural merging of Lattimore and Barwick’s sounds (so much so, in fact, that is seems unbelievable that the two hadn’t released a full-length project together until now). The fairytale aesthetic of ‘Tragic Magic’ is reflected in every fibre of its style, which is pleasant to an absolute fault. Opener ‘Perpetual Adoration’ is an assured testing of the waters, comprising solely of wandering harp progressions, hushed vocal accompaniments and sparse atmospheric keys in the background— the song isn’t the most fleshed out or adventurous on the record, but the seamless melding of creative visions on display is heartwarming to say the least. If there’s a complaint to be made of the album, it’s that Lattimore and Barwick’s effortless companionship doesn’t leave much room for experimentation or dynamics. The pair are extremely cautious, with neither artist wanting to rock the boat or take the lead at any point: even with results as unquestionably pretty as these, one can’t help but wonder whether a less conservative approach to a track like ‘The Four Sleeping Princesses’ might’ve given us some more memorable moments.

What the duo lose in creative potential is more than made up for in the efficacy and consistency of their execution though— ‘Tragic Magic’ is on a fairly straightforward quest, and it’s one our heroes live to tell the tale of. Lattimore’s harp takes centre stage for the vast majority of the record, and the instrument’s warmth and texture feels deeply engrained into every second: a song like ‘Haze with no Haze’ could hardly feel so mystical if not for this wonderful recording, which places as much emphasis on the room around Lattimore as it does on the artist herself. Barwick’s contributions are far harder to pin down in the mix, often flitting across the soundstage with an astounding weightlessness. When these two worlds— the classical and the natural— combine on ‘Temple of the Winds,’ ‘Tragic Magic’ bears a striking resemblance to worship music, as if the album were being heard inside the echoing halls of a cathedral. In its execution, the record is essentially untouchable: as airy and malleable as these seven songs can so often feel, it might just slip right through your fingers.

The best moments come when, in their own gentle way, Barwick and Lattimore do manage to throw the odd curveball our way. If the first two songs on the album are a comforting (if overly familiar) entrance into a sunny glade, the cover of ‘Rachel’s Song’ that follows is the grey cloud that briefly blots out the sun. The track is no less enveloping than those previous, but carries with it a more haunting quality that’ll really make your ears prick up— a quiet synthesiser playing the ‘Dies Irae’ is the only warning the duo provide before plunging into a towering collection of vocal layers, and it’s a surprise that had us grinning ear to ear. For as earthy as the album’s sound palate tends to be, Barwick’s affinity for electronica somehow manages to slot in without a hitch. ‘Stardust’ may just be the standout cut from the project, trading in those gentle harp arpeggios for cinematic synth swells and programmed drum loops ripped straight from the sci-fi genre: the song is allowed to be loud in a way that few passages on ‘Tragic Magic’ are, opening the door for the harmonious ‘Melted Moon’ to close the album with very sure footing.

Barwick and Lattimore’s collaboration is so seamless, it feels almost obvious: their work together teeters on the edge of mundanity in places, simply because this sound was always going to be such a safe bet. Regardless, it’s hard to argue with the consistent level of wonder and awe the duo are able to conjure, especially when ‘Tragic Magic’ ultimately proves itself to be more diverse and thoughtful than you may have assumed. Sometimes, it’s ok for an album to simply sound great— this one is positively gorgeous.