For ten years, Boston's Marissa Nadler has been releasing icy, dreamy folk music for the likes of Eclipse, Kemado, and her own Box of Cedar Records. Sometimes this can lean towards a particularly gothic baroque take on slow, viscous alt-country; sometimes it manifests as vaguely British in scope, witch-ballads for Pentangle or Roy Harper. With July, her first release for Brooklyn-based nu-era indie powerhouse Sacred Bones, Nadler pulls her sound back and out, employing Randall Dunn as producer and situating her songs at the center of a newly carved ice-cavern, with less light getting in than ever before. Dunn, who has worked with ambient-metal susperstars Earth & Sunn O))), gives Nadler a sound that fits comfortably within the black-lace-on-everything aesthetic of her new label. We still get a little high and lonesome, with lyrics doing the epic love and loss despair circuit, but the gothic erudition has been dialed up to 11. Unlike her previous tendencies to get a little British in this stripped down context, we find, on this record, a particularly American country-gothic, something out of Richard Brautigan's Hawkline Monster. Beautiful, haunting, promising.