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Autumn rhythms, intoxicated instruments and somber vocals mark the Verve’s newfound experimentalism on Forth, a year’s worth of collected sound bytes and synthesized strings. Since the band’s drug-induced breakup in 1999, lead singer Richard Ashcroft’s solo flop has necessitated an epic reunion record — unsurprisingly, one that stays faithful to the astral textures and avant-garde ambitions of so many fashionable British bands, like themselves.

Nearly every note sustains its pitch until it fades, a numbing convolution played out in natural timber — organic, inchoate and often discordant in its layering. “Rather Be” and “Sit and Wonder” are cuckolded ballads channelling Ashcroft’s turbulent mental state, laconic narratives strewn atop similarly chaotic instrumentals. For the Verve, a sprawling symphony can make even a papercut lovely and profound.

Nick McCabe’s guitar riffs take a willful turn toward mainstream Britpop, drowned in shoegazing, over-blurred artistry. While the band’s new-wave sensibilities do a few tracks well (notably “Valium Skies” and “I See Houses”), the psychedelic hypersensitivity to sound generally saturates the record in surplus strumming and normalized originality. The Verve’s affection for melody from noise — all billowing horns and euphonious echoes — is the extent of their experiment.