Pitchfork

When you're dreaming, time becomes fluid. The steady, firmly ingrained progression of seconds, minutes, and hours breaks from its linear, unilateral form to allow for drastic changes in magnitude and direction. Hours can slink by with no conscious recollection of the passage of time, and seemingly infinite journeys can occur within the span of a few minutes. Several different things can exist in the same place at the same time, and within the context of your dream, it always seems to make perfect sense. You're never surprised when you've traveled from one end of the earth to the other in a couple of seconds-- the change in the nature of time alters not only your surroundings, but your perception of them as well.

This, the self-titled debut from Olivia Tremor Control mastermind Will Cullen Hart, is one of the few albums I've heard that can effectively blur the line between real-world time and dream-world time. With its illusory, ethereal production, wistful melodies, and oft-funereal pace, this is one of those rare albums that can completely absorb you in such a way as to almost dissolve the world around you, and make you feel like you've been transported to another realm of existence within the course of 58 minutes.

While not an Olivia Tremor Control release by name, there are very few elements here that will be unfamiliar to fans of the band. Aside from Bill Doss, just about everyone who's ever contributed to an OTC release is present, making for a grand total of 21 musicians involved in its making. Given the sheer volume of people contributing, and Cullen Hart's history with layering sound, it's no surprise that Circulatory System is a sonically dense album. But here, more than on any Olivia Tremor Control record, Cullen Hart displays an almost supernatural talent for melding these sounds into a single entity that is absolutely enveloping, and for shaping that entity around a powerful melody. In some ways, the absence of Bill Doss seems to be a blessing, turning the once-Olivia sound inward as Hart is left to explore his own lyrical and sonic ruminations on time, death, and the nature of humanness.

Initially, Circulatory System sounds remarkably dark. Mournful percussion, ambiguous and ominous noises, and minor chords galore conjure vague, hazy images of death and sorrow. The upbeat, pop/rock of the Olivia Tremor Control, showcased on songs like "The Opera House" from Dusk at Cubist Castle and Black Foliage's "A New Day," has all but evaporated. But in its place stands some of the most deeply reflective psychedelic music ever laid to tape.

"Inside Blasts" serves as perhaps a perfect archetype of Cullen Hart's new direction. Opening with only accordion and his muffled voice, the song gradually builds with stereo banjos, Dirty Three-style violins, and sparse drumming. Fuzzed-out bass enters the fray, alongside eerie tones that could best be described as what a music box might sound like if it were made out of a coffin. Sounds are added so subtly that they almost become subliminal, sinking deeply into the folds of your brain without necessarily registering any kind of conscious reaction. And when a change is substantial enough to make you take notice, its impact is greatly intensified by the minute variations surrounding it. A little more than halfway into "Inside Blasts," many of the elements that have built up over the course of the song suddenly cut out, as layers of vocal harmony and odd percussive noises are introduced. It's a near-perfect sonic approximation of sadness and beauty, and without question one of the album's best moments.

Another high point comes with "Yesterday's World," the album's opener and possibly its most direct, poppy track. Fuzzy guitars, layered horns, and trashy tambourines back up one of the best melodies Cullen Hart has ever penned. But even "Yesterday's World" has a strong undercurrent of philosophical reflection and melancholy to it. As Cullen Hart questions, "Can we go back in time/ Can we bring, can we bring, can we bring these days," the instruments backing him slowly fade out, leaving only his increasingly uncertain-sounding voice.

Indeed, nagging uncertainty seems to be one of many thematic threads that help make Circulatory System such a cohesive, affecting album. The record's closer, "Forever," consists only of the words, "We will live forever and you know it's true," sung in a disturbing, otherworldly melody by Cullen Hart and Neutral Milk Hotel frontman Jeff Mangum, as well as a slew of others. By far the most haunting moment on the album, "Forever" is the sound of a campfire singalong of long-forgotten ghosts, lamenting the infinite loneliness of eternal life.

As "Forever" fades out, reality slowly begins to creep back in. The sounds, words, and voices on Circulatory System linger as a memory, but not as a memory of an album. Bits and pieces of melodies refuse to leave you, and you find yourself listening to the record over and over again to see if the vaporous melodies are real, or just figments of your imagination. You listen seeking comfort, but find only more depth in the album's uncertainty. Like a dream, you can never shake the feeling that your memory of Circulatory System is never quite the same as the original. Unlike a dream, you can revisit that original as many times as you wish.