DISTANT STARLIGHT

Multiple award-winning multi-instrumentalist (keyboards and drums) Jef Bek cut his teeth on composing and performing original music for theatrical productions and soundtracks in Chicago and Los Angeles. His list of achievements are visible on his website at www.jefbek.com . In other words, he is a true progressive rock devotee, running a parallel career as recording artist as well as having his own radio show 'The Proper Proggy Prog Show' on the morningbreeze.org site. This is latest album, released late 2023 and is a fun ride.

The title track is a fitting 14-minute epic slab of galactic symphonics, introduced by shimmering synthesizers before erupting into a fully consummated arrangement, bombastically driven by guest Rick Zaccaro's robust bass line within a swirl of keyboard exuberance (hello church organ!), nice choir work between Jef, Saskia Chen and Callum Crush, as well as a constantly transitioning layouts, with three guitarists happily joining the cosmic fray. Halfway through, a stretch of silent space as asteroids woosh by at Star Trekian speed, big percussive blasts underlining the warp acceleration, and assorted electronic effects adding sonic drama to the adventure. Saskia handles the vocals with dexterity, egged along by that wonderful trebly bass, and grandiose synth volleys worthy of Topographic Oceans. The electric guitars get to work up quite a fuss, sizzling between the various layers of thick organ, 'shining on' like those famed fragile lads from the UK'. Superb opener.

A brief respite, 'Momentary Champion' serves as breezy distraction, displaying twanging guitars with glee and voices hushing serenely, bubbly bass and a tricky piano flurry that opens the eyes, as well as the ears. The extended 15-minute rambler 'Riptide' is another highlight track here, Callum taking over microphone duties along with Jill Burke on a bustling piece with busy and rubbery bass (Bill Henshell), dual guitars weaving engaging patterns, and Jef shouldering all the atmospheric keyboard roles as becomes a talent like his. The opus is richly adorned with lots of endeavour, sonic adjustments, mood alterations and exceptional soloing where needed. Jef does a stellar (pun intended) job on the percussive side, keeping all the pieces tightly in marching form, direction outer space. The insistent piano is a joy to behold as the drums go into overdrive and shove the pace further into the stars beyond. A delicious bass and mellotron duet recalls the main theme, gloriously exploding into a wicked guitar solo and finally 'cast out'finally home'.

So, you want theatrics? Unexpectedly, a tuba introduces the syncopated dreamscape 'What One Has', with Jef on the off-kilter vocals, Zaccaro back rumbling along to the tricky beat, tricky guitar ruffles from Dan Sweigert and choppy piano. When the trumpet blares, one realizes this was a moment of fun for the crew, a highly original weird section to throw off any sense of uniformity. A little zaniness before delving into sadder subject matter on 'She Started to Drink ', a hurricane of emotions are always involved when dealing with one of the oldest diseases, the human condition's desperate need to numb the senses, in order to better cope. Sweigert and Jeff Libisher interchange guitar blows, Joshua Finkel and Jef swapping yelps of anger, moments of blurry incoherence and musical mayhem, expertly conveyed with a series of spiralling collapses. Mutual assured destruction is not just about waging war with nukes. It can also happen at home or in a bar. Segue into the short labyrinth of dazed confusion that is 'They Are Playing a Game-Jack is Afraid of Jill', a tragic Canterbury- inspired, tongue numb in cheek foray into an intoxicated stupor as they only salvation. End of the line.

A final nearly 12-minute epic, 'When Silence Calls' reasserts the brooding symphonic qualities of this highly theatrical, satiric, galactic and original presentation, coming very close to a prog rock version of classical operas, vocalists and lyricists telling a story that can span the entire universe, as well as looking down an empty glass and wondering why in hell can one be miserable in a land of plenty (the human condition). The music here is adroitly ebullient, with a plethora of keyboards sparkling in the rain, abled by fascinating e-piano stretch that underlines the echoing chaos we are currently enduring, the endless dizzying noise (check out the brash and rash Crimsonian guitar and bass both played with aplomb by Chris Block) that begs for eventual liberation. The theme slows down, the mood gentler and more serene, calling for introspection of the 'universe inside you' and an end to all the turmoil. The piano lowers the velvet curtain. Silence.

4 faraway sparkles