Harding hears and sees and becomes voices, and this album has as many voices as songs. If you listen to any single song on here, you will not be able to believe this is the same person who descended on the world almost ten years ago with the gut rumble of “Horizon.” I kind of think Van Dyke Parks needs to connect with Harding and take this fully into the candy-colored zone. “Staring at the Henry Moore” manages to combine what sounds like Sibylle Baier and Billie Eilish and Joanna Newsom, and maybe even Harding herself. A terrifying accomplishment, and an act of embodiment and expression that hasn’t been fully absorbed.