Papangu – Celestial

Papangu have no interest in repeating themselves. Their debut roared with zeuhl aggression; the follow-up floated on breezy prog folk. Now, with Celestial, they pivot again—this time toward the wide-open, keyboard-driven sound of early-’70s Yes and Camel.

That means organ and synth lines that conjure Tony Kaye’s atmosphere, while the bass—channeling Chris Squire, Greg Lake, and John Wetton—leads the arrangements with melodic authority. Guitars recede, coloring the edges rather than driving the music. The songs are their shortest yet, only two nudging past seven minutes, but concision doesn’t mean simplicity: each track is packed with non-repeating riffs and modal shifts, as tightly wound as technical death metal but rendered in bright, verdant tones.

Heavy metal’s fingerprints have almost vanished. A blast beat surfaces once or twice under jazzy passages; an occasional harsh vocal feels more like a psychedelic experiment from 1969 than a genre signifier. Some might hear pastiche, but that underestimates Celestial. Papangu don’t just replicate the surface of classic prog—they inhabit its inner logic, capturing a spiritual authenticity that dead-on imitation rarely achieves. Across three records, their mastery of disparate forms has become the band’s real identity.

For a group that refuses to settle, Celestial proves that sincerity can be its own kind of risk.