The ghost in your attic. The whirring of an old projector. The breeze on a moonlit night.

Winter Abel’s “Babel” captures all of that — a moody, cinematic masterpiece that lingers like a spirit long after it ends. With an otherworldly falsetto and deeply evocative lyricism, Abel draws listeners into a space where beauty and melancholy coexist. His voice drifts between the ethereal ache of Thom Yorke and the emotional urgency of Bon Iver, Hozier, and Lizzy McAlpine — fragile, yet powerful enough to break open the heart.

Built around haunting guitars, ghostly harmonies, and cinematic soundscapes, “Babel” unfolds like a fever dream — one that flickers between longing, loss, and the quiet glow of acceptance. Each note feels like an echo from another realm, pulling us deeper into Abel’s poetic world of shadows and light.

“Babel” would fit seamlessly on Spotify’s “Cinematic Indie,” “Haunting Voices,” “Ethereal & Atmospheric,” “Sad Indie,” and “Indie Chillout” playlists — the kinds of spaces where songs aren’t just heard, but felt. It’s music for late-night drives, sleepless thoughts, and souls that live between worlds.

With “Babel,” Winter Abel doesn’t just sing — he haunts. And in doing so, he establishes himself as one of the most captivating new voices in cinematic indie music.