Quiet Signs is an apt title for Jessica Pratt’s new album, a hushed and intimate set of predawn sounds. The record kicks off with “Opening Night,” a stark and skeletal instrumental piano piece, slightly wobbly and spare, something along the lines of Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue , or an atmospheric sketch by Erik Satie. It’s a fitting entry point to this captivating and extra-mellow record, which is filled with delicate guitar songs propelled by gentle, bossa nova-ish rhythms, recalling the equally quiet music of Caetano Veloso, Colin Blunstone, Vashti Bunyan and The Clientele. The timbre of Pratt’s voice is unique, like the sound is being held, rolling in the back of her mouth before she lets it out into the air. It’s part flute, part muted trumpet and part didgeridoo. Synth, piano and organ complete the mood. Pratt’s voice sounds breathy and up-close, but her singing is also reverby; sometimes the songs sound like she was sitting in front of a mic in an empty concert hall, with a lone piano at the other side of the room. This is Pratt’s third record. Her first was recorded in 2007 and released in 2012; on it, she garnered comparisons to more purely folk-leaning artists like Judee Sill. Her second album came out in 2015 on Drag City. Pratt’s guitar playing is more minimal, rhythmic and chordal on the new record. She’s switched to nylon strings in most places. Her voice is oddly more subdued and yet more confident. It’s a deeper journey into a kind of somnolent dream world. She’s receding into a kind of hypnotic calm, but she’s really onto something.