Let’s get one thing out of the way: Basia Bulat doesn’t live in a château. The property at the heart of the songwriter’s new studio album is at once her apartment, her jam-space—and the inside of her head. Basia’s Palace is a place festooned with love and memory, bad wiring; it’s a paradise that comes alive in the wee hours of the night, at a time that’s suited to video games and Leonard Cohen records, when you sit in all that richness, taking in all the mess we inherit.

Reuniting with co-producer Mark Lawson, she found herself moving through a dreamworld of whispers, synths and early Eurovision tunes, Cohen’s I’m Your Man and Air’s Moon Safari, her great uncle’s gauzy Maryla Rodowicz LPs. The result feels like an album that was concealed behind the backings of Bulat’s childhood photos—tracks like “My Angel,” where mystery and romance mingle over squelchy synths + drum-machine, with a soaring string arrangement by Drew Jurecka (Dua Lipa, Alvvays), or “Laughter”— which was mixed, like all tracks on the record, by legendary engineer Tucker Martine (Beth Orton, Neko Case, The National)— that takes a quiet domestic scene and sees it build to a deafening sublime. “Disco Polo” is a track Bulat’s been threatening to make forever—a folk-song named for a genre of trashy Polish dance music that was beloved of her father—whereas “Baby,” which took years to finish, makes an elegant dance number out of an oh-too-familiar predicament: “Baby, baby, baby,” Basia sings, “I don’t learn!” At some moments there are shades of Serge Gainsbourg and Brigitte Bardot’s “Bonnie and Clyde” or Charles Aznavour’s “Emmenez-Moi”; at others it’s the silicon-shiny sweetness of The Cardigans’ “Lovefool” or Air’s Moon Safari.