Porcupine Tree is the shimmering space- pop dream of Steven Wilson, who, in addition to producing the album, takes the guitar, vocal, piano and songwriting credits on Stupid Dream. And while it might be too harsh and cursory to call Wilson's own dream stupid, another less odious but no less harmful adjective comes to mind, that being "curious."

The album's curiosity lies in its duality. From the first notes of "Even Less," which leaves unsubstantiated hints of an affinity to Jeff Buckley's work, Wilson is easily pegged as a studio junkie, searching for a perfectly manufactured environment for his complicated pop songs. In and of themselves, Wilson's habits aren't surprising. A growing number of artists are importing sonic advances made elsewhere into guitar pop's large tent, and the wide spectrum of textures prevalent in indie rock today speak to both the direct and indirect influences of electronica and ambient music.

The root of Porcupine Tree's curiosity is its source material. In creating what is obviously intended as cutting edge pop, Wilson and company draw heavily from the early dinosaurs of experimental rock-- Genesis and Pink Floyd-- and, in the process, constructs a curiosity indeed: the anachronistic experiment. Unfortunately, the peculiarity doesn't prove endearing, nor worth enduring. In the case of the age- old 'little and late" cliché, the album runs to "Tinto Brass" (its 11th track) before anything innovative is encountered, and by then, well... you know the schpiel.

For much of its running time, Stupid Dream contents itself to wading in well- traveled waters, which while neither stupid or foolish, are ultimately uninspiring and certainly less than dreamlike. If the likes of Floyd and Gabriel- era Genesis are your habit (and, admittedly, they are not mine), I recommend dropping your music dollar on the truly experimental, rather than this pale resurrection.

-Neil Lieberman