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Sufjan Stevens’ music has never quite been of this world. The Michigan-born singer-songwriter’s whispery, poignant vocals and genre-blurring instrumentation veil his melodies in the filmy haze of an Impressionist painting. Stevens has an extraordinary capacity for infusing even the most intimate melodies with sweeping grandeur: The haunting love songs he composed for the soundtrack of the 2017 film “Call Me by Your Name” feel right at home alongside selections from seasoned cinematic composers John Adams and Ryuichi Sakamoto.

Stevens describes his current project, a collaboration with his stepfather Lowell Brams, as “a rich soundtrack from an imagined sci-fi epic.” On Feb. 19, the duo released the album’s first single, “The Runaround.” In its futuristic mystery, the mostly instrumental track evokes a New Age mantra.

With its intricate, overlapping layers of synthesizers, “The Runaround” occupies a strange sonic space, neither acoustic nor artificial. Many of its recurring motifs bear uncanny resemblances to orchestral instruments: The austere opening theme appears to be a keyboard riff until the third note melts into an entirely different timbre, acquiring the expansive resonance of a woodwind solo. A high-pitched melody reminiscent of strings devolves into an incessant, automated trill like a ringing phone. The buzzing beats that anchor the swirling melodies could be exclamations from a dissonant harpsichord. These distortions of familiar sounds help the track achieve a softness and warmth especially rare in electronic music.

For Stevens and Brams, even the human voice is fair game for a sci-fi spin. When Stevens finally begins to sing in the track’s final minute, his voice multiplies into a wildly reverberating chorus, so heavily altered that it almost blends into its instrumental backdrop. The ten short lines of lyrics raise more questions than they answer: “What are you waiting for / My troubadour?” Stevens sings before a swell of synths engulfs his question.

After Stevens’ voice disappears, the rest of the music follows suit until the only sound remaining is a three-note motif analogous in structure to the opening. As it, too, fades out, “The Runaround” comes around full circle.

—Staff writer Clara V. Nguyen can be reached at clara.nguyen@thecrimson.com.