It begins with the opening of gate, an invitation into a private but unhidden world that’s at least a little lovelier than our own. From that first-line summoning of lovestruck summer haze, Feist’s 2004 breakthrough album Let It Die lures you into a more charmed dimension, one that’s alternately soaked in the glow of sunshine-pop, shrouded in folky mystique, lit up in disco-ball glimmer. It’s an album that happens almost entirely in rooms, tiny and sometimes-solitary spaces where the mood is ruled by Feist’s shape-shifting vocals, her finespun melodies that melt all anxieties and heart-numbing guardedness. Through it all Feist reveals herself as a songwriter with a singular power to alter the very texture of your emotional experience, lending purpose to longing and turning heartbreak into something elegant and possibly enviable.