Everything changes a minute or so into Frances Cone’s self-titled EP. The airy synths of opener “June” tiptoe beneath frontwoman Christina Cone’s cooing vocals, and a distant chorus rings from exposed wooden rafters. It’s lovely, if precious. It’d be easy to hear “June” underscoring an excruciating goodbye between the doe-eyed tweens of an ABC Family staple. But then, a minute or so in, the floor drops out, not to jagged guitars or harsh distortion, but into a rising crest of synthesized brass that evokes the final moments of Brian Eno’s seminal Music for Airports. It’s subtle, yes. Maybe even ignorable. But it still changes everything.