Manchester Orchestra, “The Valley of Vision.”

As if the new Manchester Orchestra project, The Valley of Vision, isn’t enough for the ears, it ramps up the layers visually with a 180-degree virtual reality film that achieves great beauty by simply allowing the recipient to interpret it their own way.

Of course, everyone is always free to do so – and the band casts a deep and colorful mood purposively meant to evoke emotion and, ultimately, hope. It’s not exactly what could be called the band’s previous “alternative” music, so much as being alternative “alternative.”

The band’s last record, 2021’s The Million Masks of God explored a man’s encounter with the angel of death. The Valley of Vision is aptly named: Manchester Orchestra is exploring emotional gratitude, in an up-and-down tumble of emotions. There are layers to climb, and fall from, and climb again until you get there.

But they might’ve have done too well with the visuals, which were done by director Isaac Deitz and convey stunning beauty that becomes real emotion that almost overwhelms the music.

Almost. But the package they spun together is a true experience that’s meditative, reflective, dynamic and convincing. It deals with the human heart, emotional wreckage, control, escape and rejuvenation. At least it did for me. It’s open and airy enough to take someone’s brain multiple places. It moves you somewhere.

The opening song (scene? package?) is “Capital Karma,” which plops you right down in the middle of an incredibly beautiful forest. With a heart intact and the camera exploring some human wreckage, frontman and main writer Andy Hull’s vocals go from stated patience to building desperation, as the video zooms in and out of lush scene setting.

The centerpiece heart begins going through seasonal change in second song “The Way,” during which Hull’s musings get shaky (“I think I’m losing my mind/ Fear became the Fentanyl…”).

Burning car wreckage and a burning fuse attached to a phone conveys more urgency – still surrounded by hope and beauty – as the music builds and retreats. It’s a wonderful combination of mediums, with music matching the feeling of a speeding car, the sun coming out briefly only to go back down.

Third song “Quietly” slowly builds from hushed singing to a symphonic burst with overdriven drums, with the anticipation and symbolism of an inflating balloon in a birdcage. By this point, you’re feeling the music and visuals instead of just hearing or seeing, which was probably the intent. Old home movies backdrop a vibe changing from “I just sat there quietly…” to “Here are all your demons…” The movies show people running around a fire gaining steam in a park or parking lot, a ship sailing to the musical crescendo coming, as people go about their business as the fire rages. Will the balloon pop? And when? By now you’re emotionally invested.

“Letting Go” goes back to the forest, where the heart has burned – or has it? The easy wandering melody seems reassuring on what seems like the next day, or phase, into acoustic-guitar-driven melody “Lose You Again.” The band does such a great job of conveying emotion through dynamics, and there’s so much to look within frames that seem to move so slowly.

Then it’s a beautifully clear day with snow on the ground. Then we’re suddenly in a space overstuffed with books. The left turn is emotionally jarring, with a careful melody propping everything up. And, just as you’re smelling all those books, the scenery shifts again. The sun is out, the snow has mostly melted, and new trees are growing.

This brings us to last track “Rear View,” which takes the audience to a mid-American (I think) plain in a vintage, driverless car, journeying through and over the plains (this part owes a debt to Radiohead both musically and visually but goes beyond “Karma Police”). There may be a message about control, and not controlling, life, but just remaining thankful to be on such a vibrant road. Despite the apparent simplicity, the visuals are a lot to take in as Hull sings about love, excuses and reliance.

It’s simply beautiful and ends in a cliffhanger, that transitions into a musical and visual dream storm as you can’t wait to see what happens to the heart, the telephone, the gasoline pouring from a can, and…

Well, I’m not going to ruin the ending.

Follow music critic Tony Hicks at Twitter.com/TonyBaloney1967.