The thing with Yann Tiersen that first really attracted me to his wintry, yet somehow cockle-warming compositional work was its childlike sensibility. Half of his songs sound like slowly uncoiling mobiles, whilst every other instrumental track has the feel of one final beautifully crafted waltz – most likely with a once adversary – within the closing moments of a lost Tim Burton animation, such is the strength of the theme of slowly thawing coldness. That is to say that they’re the sort of ditties to turn such adversaries into not merely associates, but friends. And just like the bande-son extraordinaire, Berlin’s Oskar Schuster scores fantastical sorts of things; things he prefers to dub ‘musical fairytales’ as opposed to songs per se. Elements of the spectral inspired by compatriot Nils Frahm and Aphex’ Drukqs alike join together with glockenspiel plinks and typewriter clacks as Sneeuwland assumes the intangible ethereality of the out-of-the-average out-of-body experience. It’s a thing of rare beauty; the sort that feels so fragile we ought cryogenically freeze this particular fairytale so that future generations may savour it as we once would’ve the folkloric works of Heinrich Hoffmann et al.