Rather than an album, EP or the "mini-LP" it's billed as, Suzanne Kraft's Missum is best viewed as a suite. It's a collection of gorgeous, atmospheric pieces to listen to in sequence, dip into or let wash over you. At once introspective and potent, Missum's seven ambient-kosmische pieces are all named after their track lengths. The decision to avoid titles feels significant, as it encourages introspection with minimal distraction.
Emeralds are an immediate reference point, particularly on the meandering "7:30 (Pads)" and "8:13," whose fat, rippling chords and pearlescent melodies share some of their later works' towering restraint. A whisper-thin crackle and a high-pitched drone lend a hint of menace to all the liquid beauty.
The thick, undulating chords on "6:36" are countered by glimmering synth figures, but other tracks like "4:46" are less playful. One of the few pieces with beats—though they don't come in for a good minute, and are no more than a pulse—"4:46" recalls Returnal-era Oneohtrix Point Never with its fogged synths and shades of new age. While the closer and the "1:59" interlude are less fleshed out than the longer tracks, they don't feel superfluous. Missum isn't groundbreaking, but it contains moments of naked beauty that occasionally border on the sublime.