Seance, the fourth album from New Zealand singer/songwriter Maxine Funke, has a gently flowing atmosphere of somber beauty supported by supernatural undercurrents. Funke quietly amassed a healthy discography of understated and softly psychedelic folk songs leading up to Seance, and the seven tracks on this release find her sound at its most immediate without sacrificing any impulses to experiment. There are similarities between Funke's murmuring vocals and careful acoustic guitar strums and those of 1960s and '70s hippie-folk artists like Karen Dalton, Sibylle Baier, or Vashti Bunyan, but Seance expands on the sound of those albums by sharpening Funke's distinctive edges as a songwriter and sound sculptor. This can take overt forms like the blinking synthesizer pulse that continues for the entire duration of the otherwise meditative "Quiet Shore" or the ominous "Moody Relish," which ties together clicks from a buzzing drum machine, spoken word recitation, offhand acoustic guitar, and ambient room sounds. Elsewhere, there are more-subdued production elements and lyrical twists that give the album an overall feeling of mystery and yearning. The gorgeously tuneful "Lucky Penny" could pass for a straightforward indie folk tune, with a sweetly sad-hearted melody and a standard song structure, but the lyrics convey a sense of dread that's made all the more ominous by double-tracked vocals and grim synths buried at almost inaudible levels in the mix. Funke maintains a teetering balance between beauty and turmoil throughout Seance, making for a disquieting listening experience that feels familiar yet isn't quite like anything else.