Tim O’Hara’s second Giant Spaceships album carries his grandmother’s name and a cast of players big enough to make “solo project” an accounting problem. The Colorado musician spent three years on Zora, recording in homes and studios across five states. After that much coordination, the pleasure is in hearing a band that still sounds willing to follow a stray idea. Ten songs proves a sensible limit for an ensemble with this many interests. O’Hara’s affection for folk, blues and country is obvious; the jazzier and more exploratory playing makes the album worth a closer acquaintance.

The rounded, muted guitar sound on “String & Tape” makes its mixture of jazz, folk and acoustic playing the album’s most distinctive pleasure. Some of the brightness has been rubbed away, leaving a texture that suits the unhurried enjoyment of the instruments themselves. “Birdfight” shares that subdued production, with a more straightforward folk character. These performances make the acoustic side of Zora particularly attractive, and they also establish a demanding standard for the rest of it. A lovely guitar tone is an excellent introduction to a song, although O’Hara occasionally seems content to let the introduction do most of the work. The softer material can become a little too well behaved. With this many musicians available, tasteful is a fairly modest place to stop.

By comparison, the blues of “Blues and Purples” fits O’Hara with such ease that somebody really ought to encourage the habit. This is one of his strongest performances here, and the directness is a relief amid the album’s more elaborate musical appetites.

“Corn Maze” takes its time gathering momentum, working through its dusty country-Americana atmosphere until O’Hara begins singing and the performance acquires a centre. The entrance is satisfying enough to justify the wait, and it makes the opening stretch more persuasive in retrospect. O’Hara sounds settled into the performance, with the country character giving his singing a setting that suits its relaxed arrival. Elsewhere, the extra energy of “Bright Midnight” is welcome precisely because Zora spends so much time cultivating softer pleasures. Its pace benefits from those changes in temperament. Too much of the same subdued treatment would turn an attractive production choice into expensive wallpaper, and the livelier playing keeps demanding attention. Across the album, the most persuasive arrangements have a reason to develop beyond their initial appeal. “Gathering Passengers” is the exception I have mixed feelings about. Its experimental, jam-session quality conveys the excitement of musicians trying something in company, and that exploratory mood suits Giant Spaceships. I’m less taken with the point at which following the experiment becomes the main event. O’Hara is more compelling when the playing has a song to keep returning to; here, the apparent freedom sometimes interests me more than it moves me. A little indulgence belongs on a record with this cast, although this is where the listeners and the musicians may have different ideas about how much.

Jeff Sipe plays drums, Gabriel Trees handles lead guitar, and Rich Landar’s contributions include organ, electric piano, mellotron, synth, dobro and mandolin. Add flute, cello and the additional singers, and the credits start to suggest an equipment hire company. O’Hara and co-producer Trees generally make that abundance work. Larry Crane’s mix at Jackpot! Studio brings together recordings made over three years, including performances captured in the musicians’ homes. The finished record retains a pleasing casualness, especially in the looser playing. The better passages sound inhabited, with the instruments contributing to the mood of a performance rather than presenting themselves for individual inspection.

For all that instrumental activity, the singing supplies several of the album’s most effective changes of emphasis. The woman’s voice joining O’Hara on “The Malcontent” animates its familiar folk setting, introducing another personality into a song with a fairly classical bearing. His more confessional singing asks for closer attention, while the gospel quality I hear towards the end gives the record a welcome lift. The movement between shared singing and a more personally exposed performance is more engaging than the idea of a uniformly intimate album. O’Hara benefits from the differences his collaborators bring, especially when they disturb the easy continuity of the sound.

For my money, “String & Tape” is the clearest indication of what Giant Spaceships does best. Its muted production and mixture of styles are closely bound together, giving the performance a particular identity within the album. That is the direction I would follow before adding another instrument to the credits. O’Hara already has a fine collection of players and a sound with considerable appeal; the moments worth returning for are the ones where their curiosity gets the better of their good manners.