LUUNA certainly like to keep their cards close to their chest. Their chic, sleek website is sparsely populated with information, giving very little away about the band’s makeup, origins and etymology. Even their debut EP Moonflower offers only a tantalising glimpse into their delicately beautiful blend of trip-hop and alternative pop, with elements of electronica thrown in for larks.

Creating an aura of mystery is an age-old technique, leveraged throughout history from Rasputin to the geishas, Prince to George Noory. LUUNA’s enigma might not quite eclipse these masters of the art, but the blurriness of their image may go some way to complimenting the blurred lines of the music genres they melt together on their first album. Just three songs long (with an additional radio edit of lead track Soap tacked on at the end), Moonflower is a compact and compelling statement of intent from the York three-piece.

The lead single is dominated by swelling strings and the vibrant yet vulnerable vocals of their anonymous songstress, with a few police sirens and a steady backbeat added in to add confusion and cohesion in almost equal measure. What’s more, the the accompanying video of a girl stumbling breathlessly around a deserted forest area adds a sinister edge to the piece, further enhancing its unnaildownability.

It’s little surprise that Soap was chosen as the flagship for the band’s first release, being the standout track on the album. However, that doesn’t mean the other two songs are mere passengers; A Big Fat Something lulls the listener with the kind of staccato silkiness reminiscent of Portishead or Morcheeba, all the while honeyed over with those delicious vocals and backed up by the drums once again. Meanwhile, Remedy is an altogether smoother beast, tipping us over into a fully-fledged stupor of euphoria before picking up the pace at the end with incongruous guitarwork and pacier vocals which spiral almost out of control.

It’s very hard to get a proper measure of a band from just three songs, but if this was back in the bad old barbaric days before Spotify, Moonflower’s triple offering would likely prompt you to buy their full album. Hopefully they’ll oblige us with one before too long.