Critics tend to have a difficult time categorizing the Clogs’ music. In reviews of the band’s previous four albums, the word “classical” appears frequently, though seemingly as a stand-in for “instrumental”-which really just means the group’s songs often lack vocals. But calling the Clogs a classical band is a bit like referring to The National-the Brooklyn band whose guitarist, Bryce Dessner, also performs with the Clogs-a rock group. The term is so broad it fails to meaningfully inform a listener unfamiliar with the band.

When it comes to the Clogs, it’s probably best to avoid any attempt at single-word genre classifications and opt instead for flowery adjectives: beautiful, elegant, ethereal-even, in some cases, spiritual. With their new album, “The Creatures in the Garden of Lady Walton” (due out on Tuesday), the Clogs have expanded upon the hushed experimentalism of past efforts, employing vocals more often than ever before. Yet the brooding percussion and string accompaniments remain. The solemn, introspective songs on “The Creatures” carry the hypnotic power of religious chants. Australian composer Padma Newsome, who wrote the music for the album, has created a masterpiece-an intricate intertwining of cross-cultural and cross-generational music that nods towards traditional European folk in a way that’s reminiscent of Joanna Newsome’s “Ys.”

Shara Worden sings on six of the record’s 10 tracks and unlike with her work in My Brightest Diamond, her high-pitched vocals avoid grating theatricality. The album’s final song, “We Were Here,” pairs Worden and Sufjan Stevens in a subdued, lullaby-like meditation on death. Stevens and Worden sound tranquil and removed, as if singing from a tomb at the bottom of the ocean. Their words contrast beautifully with Dessner’s thoughtful fingerpicking.

Yet, “The Creatures” is worth buying for “Last Song” alone. As he’s done so many times with The National on tunes like “Slow Show” and “All Dolled-Up in Straps,” Matt Berninger tames his distinctive growl to make “Last Song” unforgettably haunting. As an ominous acoustic guitar whispers behind his words, we’re left wondering how it’s possible for anyone to make life’s brevity tremble with such grace.