You and i are Earth is Anna B Savage's unabashed love album

Which is precisely what the London-born songwriter (now based on the west coast of Ireland) has done on her third album, informed and thoroughly immersed in the delights of a happy relationship and the quest to lay down fresh roots in a new environment.

You've heard love songs of course, but You and i are Earth essentially counts as an entire, uninterrupted love album, capturing different shades of the infatuation and mutual discovery of a burgeoning and gradually deepening relationship. It could easily curdle into a feast of gushy oversharing fit to invoke an involuntary sugar-rush amongst less loved-up listeners. However, Savage’s ability to say something interesting in a context as endlessly over-harvested as a ‘love song’ means that there's quite a bit more going on here than cataloguing the wonders of a new love or "Our House" style slices of sunny domestic bliss (although both of these also feature). Ultimately, You and i are Earth is just as much focused on the nervous hope and occasional trepidation involved with ditching the safe and familiar environs and opting instead to try out a new life, maybe even a new you in unfamiliar surroundings.

It definitely helps that You and I are Earth sparkles with Savage’s most direct, open and unabashedly beautiful music to date. Produced by Lankum collaborator John ‘Spud’ Murphy and featuring guests from Ireland’s contemporary music circles (including Anna Mieke, who shares vocals on “Agnes”, members of Crash Ensemble, and Lankum’s Cormac MacDiarmada), these organically throbbing tracks manage to combine earthy robustness with delicate gentleness, with the unique timbre of Savage’s voice shedding some of its knottier edges in favour of pure feeling and soaring expressiveness on the likes of the softly majestic (and seriously beautiful) closing duo of the title track and “The Rest of Our Lives”. There are alluring production touches and unusual instrumentation scattered throughout the album, with the overall feel of standouts like the rural funk of “Donegal” and the infectious, loose-limbed yearning “Lighthouse” bringing to mind the classics from the golden era of jazz-inclined British folk-rock, say, for example, John Martyn’s Bless The Weather.