Issue 2025-054

Babal — Running In The Gutter

Jerry Kranitz

Babal are the trio of Karen Langley on vocals/lyricist, Rob Williams on guitar/guitar synth, and Jon Sharp on drums, with guests Paul Smith on acoustic bass and Chris Gill on bass. (Chris is also an exceptional guitarist and Band Of Rain ship commander.) Running In The Gutter is Babal's 13th album and my introduction to the band.

The Babal website makes references to such disparate artists as Talking Heads, Zappa, Beefheart, Hendrix, Primus, Bent Knee and Patti Smith. They're a prog band, with intricately varied, avant-garde yet accessible compositions, a potent theatrical inclination, and are nicely spacey/psychedelic at times. If ever comparisons were mere references and not 'sounds like' analogies, this applies to Babal.

Langley's vocals and lyrics are a commanding presence. Her voice is melodic yet assertive and has a mildly dissonant edge, somewhat in the way the Thinking Plague, 5UU's and Dagmar's vocals fit in with the music, though Langley has a soulful and at times mildly bluesy edge. I wasn't surprised to read on the Babal website that she has done solo performances of her poetry and prose. I'll confess that I'm usually not the most attentive when it comes to lyrical content, focusing on the voice itself, its sound and delivery and how it fits as another instrument. Yet I found myself tuning in closely to Langley's lyrics.

One Big Family opens the set and is Langley's "full-on attack" (her description) on social media. "Children stay dumb and forget how to talk. How are your kids Mark? Happy and free. Are you being the best dad you wanted to be?" The vocals pair beautifully with the psychedelically quivering guitar that melodically floats along with a steadily supportive rhythm section. The Best Restaurants is next. Keyboards and guitar plus alien effects trip around in space, creating a combination of composition and jam, before Langley joins in with her criticism of wealth in the face of poverty. I love the way Williams' guitar brushstrokes the cosmic canvas in support of the vocals.

The World That We Know considers the possibility of ecological extinction. Killing of the whales, melting icecaps. "I want a green world. I want a green world. I want it to smell good. I don't want it to stink like it does at the moment." Seems like a reasonable expectation, doesn't it? The vocal delivery on this song is pure poetic theater. And once again we've got lusciously varied guitar parts and a gorgeously spacey atmosphere, with the music traversing varying musical motifs. Cake Music consists of space-jazz that later gets hip-shaking swing dancey. It's got some of my favorite guitar of the set, including killer wasp sting licks, and Langley ranting passionately. "Everyone do their little bit, as corporations sell us more shit." I couldn't help but chuckle when the song ended with, "And now, here's Dick with the weather."

We Shall Be Fables is an enchanting blend of repetitive, psychedelically swirling patterns and melodic/atmospheric dreamland. "Who cares what lions think, when they break the backs of their prey. We will all be king for a day." And finally, "We are just a story"

Running In The Gutter is the most pastoral song of the set, at times reminding me of Anthony Phillips' The Geese & The Ghost album, though Babal are spacier and Langley's vocals set it all firmly in Babal Land.

In summary, Babal are very much in their own realm. I had to listen to this album more times than usual before I could write about it. They're progressive rock, they're theater rock, they're musical poetry... check out the Gallery link on their website for some eye popping pics of how they look on stage.

Beat — Neon Heat Disease - Live in Los Angeles

Patrick McAfee

In 2019, Adrian Belew approached Robert Fripp, Bill Bruford and Tony Levin about a tour to commemorate the 40th Anniversary of 1980's King Crimson. Levin was on board, but the others politely declined. However, both gave Belew their blessing, with Fripp even suggesting the band name, 'Beat'. Guitarist Steve Vai and Tool's drummer Danny Carey, both superfans of 80's Crimson, eagerly accepted Belew's invite. Regrettably, plans were delayed for five years. The initial hold up was due to the covid pandemic and then scheduling conflicts. Finally, in September 2024, the calendars of each member aligned and Beat's tour of the USA began.

I was fortunate to attend several shows on their tour, including the Los Angeles date recorded for this set. The concerts were a potent mix of nostalgia and extraordinary performances. Belew & Levin provided necessary authenticity, while Vai and Carey brought a respectfully fresh dynamic to the songs. A key example is the version of The Sheltering Sky found here. It captures the essence of the original, while still allowing Steve Vai to showcase his own distinctive style. The results are mesmerizing.

With a setlist that includes a majority of KC's 80's material, it was a wise decision to include the entire concert in this package. Many of these songs have not been played live in decades. It is joy to hear riveting renditions of Neal and Jack and Me, Santori in Tangier, Industry, and Dig Me, amongst others. Appropriately, the band also performs an exceptional version of the 1970's classic, Red, which was a staple of the 80's band's live shows.

Adrian Belew was correct in his assertion that this vital period of King Crimson's history warranted an anniversary celebration. His enthusiasm is evident throughout this performance as is the pride that both he and Levin have for this music. Though Fripp and Belew's original performances are difficult to improve upon, there is zero doubt that Vai and Carey were the perfect choices for this assignment.

Though fate and circumstance delayed the Beat tour, Neon Heat Disease proves that it was well worth the wait.

Hence Confetti — Duress

Calum Gibson

Hence Confetti are a band at the fringes of my musical tastes, having found their 2023 debut EP to be enjoyable, even if a bit Meshuggah-like at times. And now here, in 2025, Hines, Dwyer and Golsby have returned with another EP from the land of Australia.

Duress starts things off with some heavy and discordant works. Harsh vocals and heavy drums hit out alongside disharmonic guitar leads and aggressive palm-muted chugs. Promise however, is a more melodic affair. Little disharmonic off beats are present here, instead we have clean vocals and atmospheres melding with the muted guitar work to create a track simultaneously heavy yet soft and accessible.

Shang Tsung lands with a hammer blow — intense, full on and intricate in composition. At times bordering on “just being noise” – but with an undercurrent of control and precision that keeps it from leaping into the abyss of overindulgence.

Nearing the end, The Road is Thinning is a fine piece of death-infused prog metal. Disjointed passages meet with hard chord progressions and ominous vocal delivery. Void allows a short interlude of rest before Onslaught brings the EP to an end. A well-choreographed piece of technical fretwork sets the tone as growled vocals, thick bass and complex drum patterns fill the rest of the space.

I'd say it is an improvement on the previous release, with a definite sense of growth in the songwriting and musicianship. If you enjoy groups like Crippling Alcoholism, Dethklok, Svalbard, or other melodic/gothic/hardcore/post-type stuff, then you might get a kick out of this.

Lights Of Vimana — Neopolis

Edwin Roosjen

Lights Of Vimana is a band with members that come from various countries. From Italy Riccardo Conforti (drums, synths), from the US Jeremy Lewis (guitars, bass) and from Belgium Déhà (vocals). Lights Of Vimana play very dark music that can be categorized as doom metal, and Neopolis is their debut album.

We at DPRP do not review a lot of albums in the doom metal music, it has to contain something out of the ordinary, looking at our reader-base. The music of Lights Of Vimana is filled with lengthy dark parts with ambient soundscapes that make this release more interesting to reach that reader-base. If I have to find a progressive rock influence then it has to be that Neopolis is somewhat in the style of the first Anathema albums. Most people do not know this, but Anathema started out as a doom metal band before they turned more progressive. Maybe Lights Of Vimana will travel the same path.

When listening to the first few minutes of the album it is like the start of soundtrack of a horror movie. A very slow dark and scary beat surrounded by threatening keyboard sounds.

This is the kind of music you listen to with the curtains closed and candles lit. After a few minutes the slow doom metal like music starts with chanting vocals. At some points the chanting vocals are entwined with dark grunting vocals. Slow heavy grinding guitar riffs are alternated with ambient keyboard sounds.

This album is mostly dominated by lengthy instrumental parts, and the parts with vocals are at times clean vocals and at times grunting vocals. Something you will not find is speed, this album is very slow. From start to finish Neopolis is a slow dark trip.

The debut album Neopolis by Lights Of Vimana will not be for everybody, but that can be said for a lot of albums. If you like anything into the doom metal direction or dark, lengthy soundscapes, then this album is worth checking out. When the start of the album grabs you and you get sucked into the scenery of dark sounds, then Neopolis will be a very interesting trip.

Mission Jupiter — Aftermath

Andy Read

Hailing from the remote progressive province of Belarus, Mission Jupiter is a band that caught my attention with the release of their second album back in 2021. The album cover and band name hinted at a more prog-metal sound, but Talk To Me was a varied collection, leaning more towards the ambient, with splashes of electronica, folk and pop. I seem to remember the use of saxophone being especially noticeable.

Since then the impressive singer Nastia Shevtsova has gone. The band's third album marks the debut of vocalist Kate Varsak. She has a strong if rather unremarkable voice. After a promising hard-rocking opening track (Revelation) the songs meander into a rather indistinct collection of female-fronted alt-rock.

Ballads predominate. The progressive influences are negligible. Self-Destruction is indicative of the overall style and lyrical matter, as it ably addresses personal battles with mental disorders. Crippled Country is the only song that features saxophonist Dmitri Soldatenko.

After several spins I can only remark about how little sticks in my memory. It's all rather formulaic with sounds that have been done much better many times before. Those that seek the progressive and/or the metal in their music have no need to investigate any further. Those who enjoy female-fronted alt-rock might want to try this for themselves.

We Lost The Sea — A Single Flower

Greg Cummins

We Lost The Sea are a post‑rock / instrumental band out of Sydney, forming in 2007 and debuting in 2010 with their album entitled Crimea. This was followed up in 2012 with The Quietest Place On Earth, Departure Songs in 2015 and Triumph & Disaster in 2019.

When I first sat down with A Single Flower, I didn't hit play expecting something casual. This is a band that's always asked for more from its listeners — patience, attention, emotional openness. And once again, they've made an album that's less a collection of songs and more a space to sit inside, a place to feel something heavy, something honest.

I can't talk about this band without acknowledging what they've been through. After losing their vocalist, Chris Torpy, to suicide in 2013, We Lost The Sea became an instrumental group. Not by choice, but by necessity. They didn't try to replace him. Instead, they turned that absence into a kind of language.

You can hear that choice echoing on every album they've released since, and A Single Flower is perhaps their most refined expression of it. It's music that carries grief, but also deep beauty, and a sense of cautious hope. It doesn't scream — it breathes. It aches. And it blooms.

There are no vocals, no lyrics, no spoken word samples. It's a totally instrumental album built from a foundation of grief, emotion and a wall of sound that hits you like a rampaging bull elephant. But that doesn't mean it's lacking in voice. If anything, their instruments have become voices in themselves. The guitars don't just play chords — they weep, they swell, they shimmer like fading memories. The Rhodes and piano add softness and texture, while the drums are restrained but purposeful, like footsteps pacing a hospital hallway at night.

It's incredible how much they can say without ever uttering a word. In layman's terms, this is slow-burning, cinematic, emotionally rich instrumental rock. It's the kind of music you could soundtrack a sunrise or a farewell with — sweeping and patient, full of tension and release.

In more technical terms, the album leans on dynamics and texture. The songs often begin sparsely — a single guitar playing a repeated motif — and then gradually evolve, layering shimmering tremolo-picked guitars, ambient synths, Rhodes piano, and eventually drums and bass that build toward a crescendo. Think crescendo-driven post-rock, but with more restraint than drama. There are even moments where they flirt with minimalism, using space and silence as much as sound.

What struck me is how carefully they use distortion and volume. This isn't about loudness for its own sake. The heaviest moments only feel heavy because of the quiet that came before them. It's a band that understands contrast — both musically and emotionally.

The album is long — over 70 minutes, with only six tracks — but I never found myself bored. It breathes at its own pace and I found that if I met it halfway, it rewarded me. One of my favorite moments is in the middle of the album, where a soft melodic line circles around itself on clean guitar, barely accompanied, and then slowly gives way to this massive wall of sound. But even in that wall, the melody is still there — buried under feedback, shimmering in the distance. It's haunting. It reminded me of memories you try to hold onto as they start to blur.

The final track is nearly 30 minutes long, and it's... honestly, it's a journey. It feels like a eulogy and a rebirth at the same time. There are movements to it — like a symphony. It starts small, grows devastatingly loud, and then dissolves into silence. I had to sit still for a minute after it ended. Not many albums do that to me.

If I had to compare this against their past albums, I'd say A Single Flower is more introspective than Triumph & Disaster, and more concise in its emotional storytelling than Departure Songs. Where Departure Songs felt vast and mythic — almost like monuments in sound — this new one feels more personal, even intimate.

The melodies feel simpler, but not in a bad way. Simpler like a single flower on a grave. It's not about grandiosity — it's about clarity, restraint and meaning. Where their past albums sometimes meandered, this one feels more focused.

That said, the emotional weight is still very much there. This isn't light listening. It's not music you throw on in the background while you do chores. It asks you to stop and feel. It's patient. It's mournful. And it's beautiful.

A Single Flower feels like the work of a band who have truly found their voice — ironically, after losing the voice they once had. There's something incredibly moving about a group of musicians continuing on after tragedy, choosing to speak through their instruments instead of replacing what was lost.

This album doesn't offer easy answers or catharsis on a platter. It's not flashy, it doesn't try to dazzle. But it stays with you. It lingers.

If you've never listened to We Lost The Sea, I'd say don't rush. Set aside some time. Let the music unfold. A Single Flower isn't an album that shouts to be heard — but if you listen closely, it speaks volumes.