I picture a family photograph of Fine Glindvad and all her Danish sisters. It’s in vivid color, but Glindvad shows up sepia-toned. In a musical scene that’s got the Bliss wallpaper embedded in its source code, Fine looks back further still, charting a verdant uncanny valley between Laurel Canyon and Copenhagen. “Everything in the shade,” from her newly announced album, Jazz Dreams, could almost pass for a long-lost Goffin-King demo, but it’s too slippery. The song’s root chord keeps changing, and Fine’s voice is like temporary face blindness: Is that Hope Sandoval? Lana Del Rey? Dido? Your beautiful young preschool teacher who still comes to you in dreams?

Someone like ML Buch—a fellow alumna of Copenhagen’s Rhythmic Music Conservatory—seems to catalog alien life forms on record. Here and on Fine’s 2024 debut, Rocky Top Ballads, the extraterrestrial encounter is always taking place in the background, or just out of frame. Earthbound technologies simply can’t account for Andreas Murga’s buttery guitar tone. And while “Everything in the shade” is, for a Fine song, exceedingly legible, it circles around this cryptic mantra: “to be the rain on the hill.” To me, this means: Let me caress all of you, every square centimeter at once. In her pocket dimension, Fine briefly makes the scientifically implausible sound possible.