Before she released Laughter, Seattle-based musician Jesy Fortino, a.k.a. Tiny Vipers, was best known for two LPs on Sub Pop: Life on Earth (2009) and Hands Across the Void (2007). Laughter is Tiny Vipers' first release since Life on Earth, and with eight years between them, the two works share little stylistic or sonic commonality. Where Life on Earth and Hands Across the Void offer quiet, serene acoustic guitar and hushed vocals, Laughter is an organic construction of moody soundscapes and ambient keyboard sketches. There is no acoustic guitar and few vocals. It's woven from a different fabric entirely.

The word “laughter” evokes thoughts of carefree joviality, so it's somewhat amusing that an album by that title would contain no such sentiments—rather their opposites. The mood of Laughter often feels unsettled, gloomy, and ponderous. All affability is absent. The album opener, “Boarding Charon's Boat,” begins with haunting vocals floating nervously, as if trying to escape, above a pulsing, shifting electronic landscape that scrambles, agitated, into something akin to mania at its climax. Then, the sudden segue into the disarming calm of “Crossing The River Of Yourself”—a track of such resonant beauty that it often echoes unprompted in my head. Laughter's third track, “Living on a Curve,” has wayward anxiety reminiscent of the most esoteric, lyric-less tracks from Bowie's Berlin trilogy. It could sequence inconspicuously on the autistic second side of Low. Elsewhere, the scare-synth on “K.I.S.S.” and the album's title track evoke portentous unease suitable for a horror score, like a John Carpenter theme re-imagined.

Fortino's Sub Pop output garnered a devoted, if largely independent, following and critical acclaim. I could see where fans of those albums—who aren't aware of her foray into brooding ambiance with Mirroring, a collaboration with Grouper's Liz Harris—might be surprised by Laughter's stylistic about-face. But there is no cause for disappointment here. With Laughter, Fortino has created something wholly original — a kind of field recording from the unknown—that speaks to a creative vision more exciting and vast in scope than the more traditional singer/songwriter fare of her earlier work. Once you hear it, it doesn't let go.