Three albums on, Daniel and Lauren Goans, known collectively as Lowland Hum, remain true both to their name and their original motif. Thin boasts everything the title implies, a whispery collection of low cast songs etched in a folkish noir, all of it ushered in by soft harmonies and the scant strum of acoustic guitars. “These songs are an illustration of this time of slow reorientation,” they declare in the introductory liner notes, and indeed it’s easy to envision their process. Recorded in a friend’s attic with minimal accoutrement as far as the technology was concerned, one can practically hear the creaking of floorboards in the still of their solitary environs. Mellow and meditative, the duo parlay an intimacy that makes the listener sometimes feel as if they’re intruding, the gentle nudge of the melodies giving pause through these reflective tones. The entire set flows together with no significant shift in stance, but individual songs such as “Palm Lines,” “Adonai,” “Family Tree” and “Vedauwoo” convey a stillness and sobriety that allows the pair absolute isolation from all outside concerns. Best then to distance yourself from distraction and allow pause for the proceedings.