Despite what its title might indicate, singer/songwriter/instrumentalist Julian Lynch’s third album Terra is decidedly otherworldly in sound and feel. Lynch — a PhD student in ethnomusicology when not making music — brings a gentle sort of intelligence to these explorations, veering somewhere between the odd pop collages of Panda Bear and the ambient prog-rock of Robert Wyatt. Ruminating guitars and impish synth murmurs surround Lynch’s dreamy vocals in a post-psychedelic haze, lent further definition by percolating congas and occasional saxophone daubs. Within these broad boundaries, Lynch manages to create a sense of wonder that rarely succumbs to preciousness. The wide-eyed Rainbow Tribe vibes of the title tune and “Back” frame some moodier moments, such as the brooding roundelay “Fort Collins” and the brontosaurean jig “Canopy.” Though the lyrics here can be somewhat elusive, Lynch’s enraptured falsetto transcends language in trippy flights like “Clay Horses” and “Disappointment.” Terra weaves skeins of whimsical textures around repetitive rhythmic lines.