usic journalists have long accepted the inadequacy of our critical vocabulary. Peruse my archives and you’ll find a heap of phrases recycled for lack of better words. This does not invalidate criticism; it just reveals the limits of analytical listening. Which is fine—there are plenty of other ways to listen. Reactive listening constitutes a second branch of music writing—the emotive, ecstatic love letters to albums that polarize readers ’round these parts—but another form of listening (and possibly many more eluding me) remains: creative listening.

Case in point: the new World album, by Adam Forkner of Yume Bitsue and Honey Owens of Nudge and Jackie-O Motherfucker. It lacks the energy and focus to interest rock critics, the conceptual underpinnings that tickle the fancy of avant gardists, and the scene-making excitement surrounding out-music. In short, there’s little to say about it. Sprawling pieces of spindly guitar noise, rolling synth wave, and the occasional burst of percussion…And? Well, that’s pretty much it. Stripping Yume Bitsu of its progisms, World loses something in the process.

It gains something as well. Unfortunately this something lies outside my critical scope. These soundscapes are lacking. Such a statement usually damns an album. But World is not a closed system; its empty space begs to be filled. The album invites the listener to fill it. During the long pauses and pastoral wind of “Won’t You Let Your Hair Down,” one imagines melodies and riffs that could brighten the mood. Flashes of color and verbal bubbles also surface—raw materials for other creative responses. Considering that Owens is also a visual artist, I suspect that this may be the reaction the band intended.

Let’s not confuse World with bland wallpaper forcing listeners to entertain themselves. The lost piano and synthetic neural hum of “Now is Forever” are compelling, demanding attention and, more importantly, response. The fragile woodwinds and Owens’ sky-write vocals resound beautifully. But given the 15-minute-plus duration of the first three pieces, more is expected. World intentionally withholds much. The appeal of the album hinges on the listener’s ability to recognize that and wriggle into the open area.

The fourth track defies the model, opting for a hard, compact, acid-rock blast. The track is such a departure it isn’t even featured in the album description of the Marriage Records website. Not surprisingly, creative listening doesn’t suffice, so I’ll react instead: glory-fuzz attacks and woman-wronged wails melting delay pedals into lava-lamp magma lumps and lifting ears to cosmic banshee star clusters. Hot damn!

The first sixty minutes of the album are far gentler. They quietly invite the listener to paint a picture, make charcoal scrawls, or write a short story (preferably about imaginary mist-shrouded Pacific Northwestern islands or interstellar shamanic quests). If you have a spare hour, it’s a great way to pass the time. On the other hand, if you don’t have the time, energy, or focus, and you’d rather the music do the heavy lifting, World is probably not for you.