With each successive release, the self-sustaining universe that is Sarah Lipstate’s output as Noveller pushes outward. Her instrumental sound—built from guitar loops run through pedals—has evolved well past its drone-anchored early incarnation. That relied on layers of distortion to create meditative spaces that enveloped the listener; more recently, synths and percussion have entered her sprawling compositions. A Pink Sunset for No One is ruled by a newly epic sense of scale and narrative. For better or for worse, the album’s more intricate details are at times overshadowed by its glimmering crescendos.

However, the tension between Noveller’s roots as an intimate bedroom project and the outsize shape it takes here is compelling: even if her style has grown to fill the kind of rooms one might play opening for Iggy Pop, it still feels like a dreamworld Lipstate has built primarily for herself. Opener “Deep Shelter” begins with a low-pitched four-note phrase that repeats throughout, accumulating iterative details that begin to soar outward from the humble introduction. Four minutes in, these loops pull back to make way for a gently cinematic piano bridge: self-soothing, yes, but executed in a remarkably high-definition way.

There’s also a heightened sense of energy, Lipstate spending less time luxuriating in her guitar’s textures and more on developing big-picture structure. “Rituals,” which winks at Steve Reich, is anchored by soft, distant percussion and a small chorus of staccato riffing, punctuated by blasts of rippling sustained notes. On “Trials and Trails,” perhaps the album’s most technically impressive track, Lipstate solos heroically over distorted passages, the juxtaposition throwing the liquidity of her playing into relief. - Pitchfork