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With their tricksy prog yin and concussive rock yang, Fleeting Circus are somehow both cola-sweet and nutrient-dense at the same time. Taynã Frota’s weathervane falsetto prologues the opening

track, and its well-worn title verse. Between the guy-siren — guyren? — vocals and the phaser trippiness, we get it. Dream world, indeed.

The next stop is “Fake Station” (of course you see what we did there, we won’t even ask). Nice shoutalong chorus and thick-plectrum guitar chops. From there it’s a painfully brief four tracks to go. Take it all in below, and name a price at the links.

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