Raül Fernandez is the man behind Refree, a Spanish outfit led by a music journalist with a delicate radar for dispersed, delicate tunes. Nones is an elaborate testimony about loss and affection, his second effort after the album Quitamiedos. Both releases are about crafting beautiful pop diamonds with simple studio arrangements.

Fernandez's auspicious debut album earned a great deal of acclaim all over, for which he relied on the collaboration of chamber pop impressionist, Migala's Abel Hernández, and José Aguado (of Manta Ray fame).

Nones is an extensive lyrical exercise, a result of maturing ideas and boiling emotions. To put it simple, it's Rachel's meets Friends of Dean Martinez meets a trembling balance of solitude and gathering. It's a record soaked in Mediterranean references and post-folk sensibilities, like a brooding sedative for those aiming to survive.

The words are as subtle as the archetypal delusions kept inside little envelopes of life ("Como en los Días Corrientes"). The casual listener embarks on acoustic journeys across squalid extravaganzas of pain and sorrow ("Les Soldats Perdus"). It's life through the mirror, short stories of common soul seekers, those who often disregard magic and delight.

Nones tentatively flattens your wounds against the flesh so you can feel your nerves hurt, and notice little traces of sparse beauty between days. It's not hard to assume that these songs are uneasy reports of blurred realism but with an exquisite perception of everyday life. Starry-eyed characters play-acting, anxious for passion to be unearthed and with a goofy desire to wrap their troubles in dreams.

Sleepy, vacant melodies corrupt the space between, leaving you with nothing to revel in but a plaintive tension and permissive desire. Still, traditional songs surpassed by a low-key yet emotional delivery and that ultimately show that everything is not lost.