What Thomas Bartlett lacks in musical imagination, he very nearly makes up for in his dogged commitment to a very personal — and very quiet — vision. It’s a little trick he likely picked up from his friends and frequent collaborators in The National; on his latest album The Conformist, released once again under his Doveman banner, Bartlett hones in on a single aesthetic — one is almost inclined to call it a formula — and he simply works it, less interested in expanding his approach outward than burrowing further inward, mining his chosen sound space for everything in it.

It’s a blessing and a curse. Sure, you could say that, if you’ve heard one Doveman song, you’ve basically heard them all — but in saying that you’d also have to admit that the guy is still finding new shades and themes to explore in his hushed, insistently quiet take on indie rock. And if it’s commitment you’re after, consider this: though The Conformist encompasses sounds ranging from ’80s-flavored synth-pop to orchestral music, Bartlett forces it all to conform to his whims, making each new sound or style a mere wrinkle in the fabric of his music. And the same is true with the guest performers: it’s merely interesting to note that Barlett is joined here by members of The National, by Norah Jones and Glen Hansard, and by indie composer/arranger Nico Muhly, whereas it’s downright astonishing to think that the presence of each guest barely registers, as they’re woven into the fabric of Doveman’s music as nothing more than curious little wrinkles, textures in service of the big picture.

That’s basically how this album works. Little snippets of everything from classical to trance to folk music are woven together into a fabric that’s dense and seamless, and if the instrumentation is based in pop/rock, the layering and structuring of sounds has more in common with ambient music. It isn’t quite an ambient record, though for some listeners it might have the same background-noise, mood-altering effect, but it is stubborn in its commitment to being totally hushed and quiet, never really rising above a whisper. It’s mood music, at once eerie and warm, and its most distinguishing feature is in how Bartlett weaves together so many diverse elements in a way that deliberately diverts attention away from his eclecticism; the point of these elements is basically to go unnoticed, to serve simply as components, as building blocks, as mood-setters.

And the music is very moody, though that’s not to say it’s dour or depressing; Barlett whispers lines that speak to love and domesticity, and if the picture he paints isn’t always idyllic, it is rich with the quiet contentment of fidelity and belonging. It is, in a word, very comfortable, and if The Conformist isn’t exactly going to blow anyone away or register above a pleasant murmur, it’s still both impressive in its craft and effective in its overall mood.