Emiliana Torrini

Ambient's got a bad reputation. Most of the time it seems sparse, distant, cool to the brink of icy—heartless music, to be sure. Could there possibly be anything warm and fuzzy about egg-headed Brian Eno noodlings or Cafe del Mar-type compilations meant to bestow cool upon mojito-sipping hipsters in dimly-lit boutique hotels? Exactly.

Icelandic-Italian singer/songwriter Emiliana Torrini's found a rare patch of grass within the cold, steely ambient world. The spare, folkish arrangements on Fisherman's Woman, her sophomore album, showcase an approach to ambient that's organic and full of life. Torrini references nature's changes and their emotional parallels, evoking the sound of fresh spring mornings, exposed countrysides and the expansiveness of a vast ocean.

Torrini's gossamer voice is as otherworldly as Bjork's, but it also has the fragility of Beth Gibbons. It's a bit of a gamble to hang the weight of such an emotionally charged album (Torrini wrote Fisherman's Woman after someone close to her died) on her tremulous vocals, but she's got an unexpected resilience that consistently pops up throughout all the detached melancholy.There's no doubt Torrini's in pain: "If the telephone should ring," she anguishes on "Thinking Out Loud," "God knows it could never be him." Later, though, she buoys back: "My middle name's still 'Risk,' " she teases. "Will you still meet me on a sunny road?" It's beautiful to watch Torrini's pain ebb and flow like the tide as she dares us to float along on her personal sonic wave.—Suzanne Ely