Kaprekar’s Constant – ‘Depth of Field’ (2019)

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Kaprekar’s Constant’s second album, Depth of Field, is a very modern progressive symphonic album. Now, full disclosure: the first listen produced my comment, “I’m not that impressed with this record.”

Depth of Field never really rocked; the vocals (both male and female) are very pure; and I didn’t hear that much of Van der Graaf Generator’s David Jackson. But, as the old saying goes, “On the seventh day God rested.” Turns out, on the seventh spin, this Kaprekar’s Constant record opened its doors to these grooves and revealed the colors of the universe.

Great prog albums from way back when always did that. I remember that Genesis’ Foxtrot went on forever; ditto for Jethro Tull’s Thick as a Brick. I didn’t understand Larks’ Tongues in Aspic at all – especially after King Crimson’s beautiful Islands. With repeated spins, Kaprekar’s Constant’s Depth of Field also catches time and etches melodies into favorite vinyl memories.



Keyboards and a David Gilmour-like guitar spark the first song, “Rosherville Part I.” Bill Jefferson’s vocals enter with an almost Ian Anderson-like voice (with his sweetest “One White Duck”). And many progressive minutes later, the tune twists and turns through an amazing maze of melodies. Second lead vocalist Dorie Jackson enters the fray with pure Annie Haslam clarity. But the drama is earnest, while Renaissance (both the band and the era) flavor pervades the song. And the keyboard finale recalls the delicate days of the Strawbs’ Hero and Heroine. It’s a beautiful tune.

By the way, I was wrong: David Jackson’s muse dances quietly — all over the album.

There’s more of that intensely passionate stuff: “Holywell Street” is piano pulsed, with urgent vocals, a sunrise guitar, and David Jackson’s sunset sax – then the tune, once again, slips into acoustic reverie. “Ghost Planes” is chord heavy, with spoken words that echo Pink Floyd’s “short, sharp, shock” comments on Dark Side of the Moon. Then a mellotron floats above the voices, while the vocals carve an ancient runic melody. There are more voices, and then the wonderful chorus just sings a slow melodic dance, while a guitar struts rock music steps, and the keyboards sing prog heaven.

And then, to these old ears, Kaprekar’s Constant kicks into Genesis “Cinema Show” drive, with keyboards, bass, and drums just playing warm and wonderful instrumental rock music. The original melody re-emerges with the transcendental beauty of classic Selling England by the Pound vibe.

And “The Nightwatchman” begins with a Tony Banks piano bit. Then it evolves into an acoustic guitar and voice duet that recalls the beauty of Sally Oldfield’s Water Bearer album.

Now, “White Star’s Sunrise” is the big multi-part twenty-three minute plus epic about all the White Star Liners, the Olympic, the Titanic, and the Britannic. It’s all a bit grandiose (with a big electric guitar solo) but this is prog, and we prog lovers love that sort of thing. Kaprekar’s Constant links the various sections with acoustic guitar and flute passages. And there’s an interlude, “Sisters,” that works as a unifying anchor.

Odd: the vocals sometimes sound like Joe Strummer. That said, this is extended symphonic prog heaven, as the music swells, dips, glides, and sings dramatic tragedies. I’m not sure that this has anything to do with rock ‘n’ roll, but it’s certainly a complex and beautiful bit of melodic and intelligent music that echoes the finery of Jethro Tull, Gryphon, the more spiritual stuff from Yes, or a really good Tony Banks solo album.

You know, many bands have been name-checked, but really, this “White Star” extended workout stamps an individual prog ethos on the genre with a big cinematic (and almost documentary) sound that is certainly deserving, as sure as eggs is eggs, of a 5.1 stereo surround reboot.

“Rosherville Part II” is reprised (as all good prog albums do, from time to time), with another (odd) Joe Strummer-like vocal and a nice acoustic bit that evolves into the ending with an Ian Anderson (!!) dramatic reading swirling with latter day Tull profundity that sort of gets pretentious – but the guy wrote Thick as a Brick, “so what the hell.” And a great organ solo punctuates the end of the song.

The final album title tune, “Depth of Field,” is acoustic, brief, and it evokes an Anthony Phillips song, Genesis’ “More Fool Me,” or one of those hummed (and strummed) Jethro Tull introspective songs. It’s a nice epilogue, that will always happen “After the Ordeal.”

Kaprekar’s Constant’s Depth of Field really paints with broad and very lush strokes. It bulges with beauty. It never really rocks but it does, indeed, roll with the extended expectation of a patient listen – a patient listen that will, in time, reveal the gorgeousness of its very vinyl, and equally very epic, symphonic progressive grooves.


Bill Golembeski