This may not be quite the moment for a “difficult” Sufjan Stevens album, recorded with his stepfather and label co-founder, and brimming with murky instrumentals inspired by new age music.

Aporia certainly doesn’t trip over itself in its eagerness to be liked. The record unfolds in warm washes of texture, discordant melodies sprinkled through. Without much to cling to in terms of vocals or song structure, fans of Stevens in his sad folkie setting may be more baffled that beguiled.

That’s their loss. Aporia is a gorgeous curio – somewhere between meditation session in a flotation tank and binge listen to Alan Partridge’s Deep Bath. Occasionally, the conspiracy of synths, choral flourishes and clattering tempos threatens to rise toward a catharsis. But then it soporifically reverse gear and sinks away in the deep unknown.

Aporia, at its best, is like stumbling upon your favourite Boards of Canada, Aphex Twin and Sigur Ros b-sides all at the same time and with a leaky bucket over your head. Stevens’ 2010 LP The Age of Adz was famously characterised as a “orchestra having a breakdown”. Here he’s off the therapist’s couch and, though with that faraway look still in his eye, suddenly ready to face whatever the day may bring.

• 8/10

Out now.