This site clearly has a new policy: I’m only featuring artists who have an affinity for cats. Those who have no time for these retractably-clawed scratching machines can go and hawk their wares somewhere else as far as I am concerned, say Pitchfork, get them reviewed and then have to step out blinking into the harsh lights of fame, while cat lovers are welcome to get featured here, and remain in a pleasant fog of obscurity. The fact that Vikki Jackman meets my harsh eligibility criteria is one of the few facts I gleaned from her Myspace page. Other than that she has a sideline in making scarves and brooches (in case you are wondering, and as lovely as it undoubtedly is, I passed on the flowery Delilah cowl).

Well, a couple more things you need to know: she is the partner of Andrew Chalk, who runs and records for the Faraway Press label, she has featured on on his work, and this is her second solo release for that label, after the seriously beautiful – and seriously quiet – Of Beauty Reminiscing a couple of years back. Whispering Pages continues her trip into dark and distant recesses of memory, being constructed around her long, decaying piano fragments. My use of the word “constructed” may imply a strength that isn’t there: these pieces are gossamer-like, and would be ruptured by the merest gust of wind. Headphones are required to fully appreciate the album’s subtleties, like the jazz rhythm section buried deep within “Two Clear Eyes”, or the summery joys hinted at by the field recordings of “Dreams” . All the while there are those weighty flickers of piano to provide a piece such as “The Snow Queen” with its elegiac Basinski-like emotional centre.

For further investigation of Jackman, Chalk, and Faraway Press head, with your usual catlike grace, to their website.