The Blossom Filled Streets has Movietone opening their music up, allowing it to breathe – there’s more light in these songs, and the musicianship here has real unity of purpose. What that purpose is, though, can still feel quite abstract, though there seems to be a loose narrative here that pulls together domestic spaces, shorelines and urban geographies, and the cycle of life of flora. “1930’s Beach House” shivers and shudders around filigree piano and tremolo guitar, Kate Wright’s voice a hypnotic purl; “Hydra” wheezes and huffs through creaking strings, before a tumbledown rhythm propels the song, with tiny constellations of melody etched between the beats. Again, there’s something in the way the members of the group interact that suggest a small group playing jazz, but with the craggy Bristol landscape as the score.