The BQE is, for one, an orchestral suite, commissioned by the Brooklyn Academy of Music and adapted from a 2007 performance at the Howard Gilman Opera House. Now it’s also the soundtrack to Stevens’ homemade film of the same name.

Of course, the package includes all sorts of eclectic goodies, from View-Master disks to a 40-page color comic book. “Maximum” is the word with Stevens, from his early electronic work to the widely lauded orchestral pop of his 2005 offering, Illinois.

Thus the expressway is a strange but perfect muse for the artist. Throughout seven movements, The BQE weaves a day in the life of the roadway, including a tranquil sunrise (“Movement I: In The Countenance of Kings”) and the whirlpool of exits and interchanges (“Movement III: Linear Tableau with Intersecting Surprise”).

The influences (mostly classical) are countless, but Steve Reich looms large over many of the suite’s best moments. In fact, for the first time in his prolific career, Stevens sounds more like a modern composer than a pop star.

Visually, The BQE is devoted to the bleached, tidy aesthetic of any Wes Anderson film. Like the expressway, the hula-hoop serves as bizarre symbol of futility and frivolity. The result is a vibrant, slightly pretentious ode to urban sprawl; it’s a wholly singular work.

So, the entire affair is something of a red herring, but what isn’t with Stevens? “Movement IV: Traffic Shock,” is the prime example; it pairs 8-bit synthesizers with a chorus of flutes for an unexpected thrill. On the heels of an orchestral reworking of his 2001 electronic album, Enjoy Your Rabbit, it’s clear the artist is arranging his past for the purpose of a new weird future.