Style: Black metal, atmospheric black metal, folk (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Winterfylleth, Grima, Havukruunu, Panopticon, Abigail Williams
Country: New York, United States
Release date: 8 August 2025

Native American and Norse peoples share a few historical parallels in how they were confronted, overrun, and transformed by Christian evangelization. Norse paganism was gradually outlawed in favor of Christianity in the high middle ages, while colonization of and expansion within the New World saw many Native American peoples and practices eradicated via law, violence, and disease. Many surviving texts and oral traditions from these cultures were subsequently preserved (and thus perverted) through Christian reinterpretation and narrative.¹ In both histories conversion to Christianity was, to put it lightly, highly encouraged. The treatment and transformation of these two ocean-separated populations isn’t a mirror image, but their history certainly rhymes.

In its developing stages, a large part of Scandinavian black metal identity was rooted in rebelling against that historical inertia and embracing the old ways²—continuing to shape the genre to this day. All that to say: I can see how the sights, sounds, and lyrics of black metal might have a certain appeal to somebody of Native American descent. Though he’s not the first to infuse an indigenous influence with extreme metal, Jon Krieger’s Blackbraid is certainly my favorite. Blackbraid I was an instant darling and my favorite release of 2022; the Native American inspiration, artwork, and dour yet melodious atmosphere in the music hit all the right spots for me. Blackbraid II (2023) was even better, expanding on and refining the ideas from its predecessor and cementing Krieger as more than just a one-off.

Blackbraid III has now descended upon us, with no shortage of the fire and frost of its elder brethren. As before, riffs arrive in a variety of guises: tremolo-picked blizzards punctuated by brash high chords, power-chord progressions that chant beneath soaring lead lines, and even a few chugs on the low end for good measure. The unceasing wintry gale of the harmonious guitars in “Tears of the Dawn” will blanket you in aural snow, and the hollow production style of the album only adds to that chilling effect. “God of Black Blood” trudges with slow, face-crumpling heaviness (and has the album’s standout guitar solo). My favorite track, though, is “And He Became the Burning Stars.” It opens with a triplet-driven 6/8 riff whose rhythm is an oar cutting through turbulent waters. Surrounding this riff are dissonant yet melodic chords that crash into it, feeling both alien to the riff but perfectly at home in the album’s broader sound. But, the real magic of the song comes in its melodic and soft bridge that transitions into the latter half of the piece, which completely transforms the song into something as beautiful and pensive as the opening was aggressive. You’ll remain exhilarated and moved across its ten minute runtime.

The music here is so consistently captivating that the greatest criticism I can level at Blackbraid III is its overly rigid structure. The opening tracks set a template that the rest of the album rarely strays from: a soft, acoustic opener (“Dusk (Eulogy)”) followed by a full-throttle black metal scorcher (“Wardrums at Dawn on the Day of My Death”). This pattern is almost ever-present, deviating only after “Wardrums…” and again at the very end, with a fantastic cover of Lord Belial’s “Fleshbound.” One particular interlude track, “The Earth Is Weeping,” is overly repetitive, three times as lengthy as it should be, and should have been attached to its predecessor as an outro. Others, though, justify their place—like “Traversing the Forest of Eternal Dusk,” which weaves flowing guitar melodies, Native American flute, and what sounds like genuine field recordings of a living forest into something transportive. Such interludes are the quiet nighttime fires that keep you alive amidst the icy gusts of the black metal blizzard about you.

Krieger’s knack for creating evocative song titles continues to be in full effect³ on Blackbraid III. With names like “And He Became the Burning Stars” or “Wardrums at Dawn on the Day of My Death,” the part of me that longs for lore and some form of spiritual communion with nature swells just reading them. The lyrics are no slouch either: “The dust of my spirit / Shall flow forth at twilight / A sacred sepulchre in frost / An offering of flesh to the moss” (from “The Dying Breath of a Sacred Stag”). Adding to the effect is the top-notch vocal delivery and production on III. While not being able to understand a harsh vocalist’s specific words almost never detracts from a song for me, intelligible rasps and gutturals can only elevate the material—and nary a scathing shriek passed through my ears that I couldn’t understand on first listen.

I came into Blackbraid III with expectations that were miles high, and in that sense I might be slightly disappointed. Across its fifty-three minutes, the shifts between fury and calm create a cycle of tension and release that mirrors the ebb and flow of the natural landscapes that the album evokes. Thus, the music clings to the tonal and structural palette of its magical predecessors—perhaps to a fault. The consistency that Blackbraid has displayed across three releases is both a blessing and a curse. I tend to be most interested in trying out new flavors from an established artist, and Blackbraid III doesn’t exactly try any different recipes in the cookbook. Yet its strong songwriting, deep integration of the creator’s folklore, and solid production values go a long way to turn a “more of the same” release into something that I’ll keep spinning over the years.

Recommended tracks: And He Became the Burning Stars, Traversing the Forest of Eternal Dusk, The Dying Breath of a Sacred Stag, Like Wind Through the Reeds Making Waves Like Water
You may also like: Saor, Walg, Valdrin, Pan Amerikan Native Front
Final verdict: 7.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Official Website | Instagram | Metal-Archives

Label: Independent

Blackbraid is:
– Jon S. Krieger, also known as Sgah’gahsowáh (vocals, guitars, bass)
With guests:
– Neil Schneider (drums)

1. I myself grew up in an American-born Christian tradition that bastardizes the history of Native Americans. ︎
2. And I mean the old “old ways,” not the South/Central Europe circa 1939 “old ways.” ︎
3. “Barefoot Ghost Dance on Bloodsoaked Soil,” “Warm Wind Whispering Softly Through Hemlock at Dusk” (Blackbraid I), “A Song of Death on the Winds of Dawn,” and “Twilight Hymn of Ancient Blood” (Blackbraid II) being some favorites from previous albums. ︎

The post Review: Blackbraid – Blackbraid III appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive death metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Meshuggah, Rivers of Nihil, Entheos, Tesseract
Country: United States
Release date: 14 August 2025

“We all rip off Meshuggah!” Or so Devin Townsend famously said in his 2014 track, “Planet of the Apes.” Comedic exaggeration? Slightly. But Meshuggah’s influence and the proliferation of djent have defined a solid chunk of the metal released after the mid-aughts. Our boy Justin dove deeper into the style’s evolution in his review of Atlan Blue by Antediluvian Projekt—a middling djent album released earlier this year—but suffice it to say that numerous artists have added a couple of strings to their guitars and embraced those chunky, polyrhythmic grooves. And though in recent times many bands have adopted djent and its features as a weapon in their sonic arsenals rather than as a core part of their identity, the style remains prominent. Hell, even the latest Muse single, “Unraveling,” includes a gratuitous djent passage.

This brings us to progressive death metallers Kallias and their latest release, Digital Plague. The album’s story—one of humanity’s unhealthy digital obsession, technological overreach, and the ongoing pattern of creation and destruction—is given life by, you guessed it: big, heavy, djent riffs. As the band put it, “Think if Meshuggah scored Blade Runner.” Eight-string guitars in hand, Kallias ravage their way through the tracks with the intensity of a helicopter blade. But, while Meshuggah might be their most apparent influence, the band wield djent as one tool in their prog-death toolkit—technical chops, cinematic orchestrations and synths, odd time signatures, and diverse vocals all coalesce in a fresh and shockingly accessible release.

Kallias’s strength lies in the balance they strike between heavy chugs, progressive flair, and hooky passages, and nowhere is this more apparent than in standout track “Null Space.” Within the first two minutes, we’re treated to a massive, choppy verse, textural synths, proggy riffing, and an earworm of a chorus that reminds, frankly, of a ballsier TesseracT. Still, the track sounds cogent and compelling. Similar can be said about the infectious opening cut “Destructive Apathy.” Frontwoman and guitarist Nicole Papastavrou backs up her fiery playing with ferocious growls—across all Digital Plague, she’s a force. Meanwhile, in addition to his consistently outstanding instrumental performance, bassist Chris Marrone delivers a diverse array of clean vocals that provide something to grab onto amidst the mayhem. 

Digital Plague’s tracks don’t stray far from one another, each offering some combination of dramatic intensity and complementary melodicism. But to help keep the album from turning stale, Kallias introduce new elements throughout. The title track, for instance, builds tension with staccato, bowed strings, and later features a soft, almost Opethian bridge. “Pyrrhic Victory” distinguishes itself with chant-like clean vocals that further Digital Plague’s narrative, eventually giving way to a big, rolling outro accompanied by cinematic synths. “Exogíini Kyriarchía” leans most heavily into djent, and “Shadow Entity” is more brooding and ends with a guitar solo that stands as an album highlight. Each track provides something engaging to catch the ear, while tight and often technical musicianship is consistent across the release. The rhythm section, in particular, is ridiculously active, forming a solid backbone while still delivering blazing flourishes throughout. 

Yet, despite the band’s instrumental prowess and constant sprinkling of new ideas, Digital Plague feels a tad formulaic. Each song runs about four and a half to six minutes and has a similar atmosphere and feel. The compositions are dynamic within individual songs, but show less variety across the tracklist—they all hit the same spot, even if striking from slightly different angles. Fortunately, the formula works, and Digital Plague is a blast. But because of this, the album has a high floor and a relatively low ceiling. Venturing into a few new sonic territories and taking some bigger compositional risks could have elevated the release that extra bit.

All in all, Digital Plague nods at Kallias’s influences while holding its own identity. Plenty of riffs will make your face wrinkle and your head jolt, but you’ll also find about a half dozen infectious choruses to sing along to. And although the album could contain more diversity from song to song, its cinematic nature keeps it engaging, the tracks stand strongly on their own, and the performances are ferocious. Basic Meshuggah worship this is not. We’ve sure come a long way since HevyDevy’s proclamation.

Recommended tracks: Destructive Apathy, Null Space, Shadow Entity
You may also like: Soreption, Aversed, Subterranean Lava Dragon, Daedric
Final verdict: 7/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram | Metal-Archives

Label: Independent

Kallias is:
– Nicole Papastavrou (guitars, vocals)
– Chris Marrone (bass, vocals)
– Justin Gogan (drums)
– Erik Ryde (guitars)
With guests:
– Chaney Crabb of Entheos (vocals, “Destructive Apathy”)
– Ian Waye of Soreption (guitars)

The post Review: Kallias – Digital Plague appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: avant-garde metal, progressive metal, chamber music, progressive rock, Romanticism (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Rush, Mertz, Liturgy
Country: California, United States
Release date: 1 August 2025

What makes metal metal? Indubitably, it’s some blend of attitude, riffs, lyrical themes, instrumentation, and “heaviness” (that last one is to say, you know it when you hear it). Until 2020, I would have thrown in distortion to the list of essential characteristics, but Kaatayra’s Só Quem Viu o Relâmpago à sua Direita Sabe, currently still my album of the decade, changed that as a fully acoustic yet recognizably black metal album. New avant-garde metal band Rintrah push my conceptions of metal even further, abandoning even the harsh vocals of Só Quem. That’s right, The Torrid Clime is classical acoustic guitar, drumming, and reedy, belted clean vocals. So what makes Rintrah metal? 

Their unabashed veneration for the Romantics. I mean, ask anybody; Romantic poetry is hella metal. But seriously, since metal’s earliest days, its practitioners have been neoromantics, intentionally or not. The genre’s acolytes are obsessed with individuality and freedom of expression, an idealization of the past and the exotic (through incorporations of folk music, for example¹), and, above all, a singular desire to attain the sublime. Metal mainstays—crushing heaviness, screamed and growled vocals, blast beats, crazy displays of guitar wizardry, singing of gore and nihilism—all act to make you, the listener, feel small compared to the display of sonic power. As eminent Romantic philosopher Edmund Burke said: “Whatever is in any sort terrible, or is conversant about terrible objects, or operates in a manner analogous to terror, is a source of the sublime; that is, it is productive of the strongest emotion which the mind is capable of feeling.”² Like Romanticism, metal is, at its heart, a rebellion: against the shackles of a boring life, from the very start in the industrial hellscape of Manchester. It’s designed to make you feel something profound, with heaviness as its modus operandi.

Simply put, metal is obviously Romantic, and Rintrah fully embodies the philosophy more explicitly than any other band I’ve ever heard, so those dulcet acoustic guitars and blast beats are more than enough to be metal to the philosophical core. Rintrah’s Romantic aesthetic is, in a word, audacious. Adorning the album cover of The Torrid Clime’s is the 1818 painting Wanderer above the Sea of Fog by Caspar David Friedrich, a work which is literally first on Wikipedia if you search “Romantic art.” The lyrics across Rintrah’s debut record are pulled from various Romantic poets—William Blake, Percy Shelley, Emily Dickinson, Lord Byron, Charles Baudelaire, and Charlotte Smith.³ There is even a Mertz piece, “Nocturne, Op. 4, No. 2,” on the record fitted in as a mid-album interlude. 

So yeah, The Torrid Clime is pretty damn metal, although musically it’s a far cry from what I’d expect. There are no grandiose orchestrations here à la Mahler, Mendelssohn, or Dvorak. Classical guitarist Justin Collins manages to make his instrument sound like a harp, while Arsenio Santos on bass (Howling Sycamore) gives The Torrid Clime a Rush-like rhythmic edge. The vocals provided by Otrebor (Botanist) and William DuPlain (ex-Botanist) are also Rush-y, powerful, nasal-y tenors; like Geddy Lee, I could see Otrebor and DuPlain’s vocals being a sticking point for listeners. Yet their delivery of the various poems is admirable, with drama, bombast, and spot-on cadence. It’s quite the bardic performance, in fact, and one could easily imagine one of the vocalists with the charmingly strummed guitar lines traveling city to city performing their poetry.⁴ The guitar tones are succulent with plenty of technical embellishment, keeping the music quite harmonically complex. During the faster moments, like those in “Ozymandias” and “On the Giddy Brink,” I even hear strong hints of Kaatayra with the rhythmic intricacy of the guitar parts—not to mention the wonky rhythms of tracks like “The Chariot.” The compositions are also full of masterful transitions which perfectly underscore thematic shifts in the text, such as the transition between the main riff and the softer, richer one in “Fearful Symmetry.” 

For much of The Torrid Clime, the frantic blast beats are in wonderful juxtaposition with the calmer classical guitar and breathily belted vocals, but at times Otrebor’s drumming becomes completely detached from the plot as Collin’s guitar and Santos’ bass fall out of rhythmic contact with him—the vocalists are off doing their own thing in the stratosphere most of the time, regardless. Rintrah’s unique combination of sounds works in its favor until their delicate synergy becomes unraveled. Thankfully, for most of the tracks on The Torrid Clime, Rintrah stay in their lane, letting those euphonious guitar lines, thumping bass, unique vocals, and blast beats all interact with surprising cohesion. The tracks that change up Rintrah’s characteristic sound are also strong points on the record: instrumental “Nocturne, Op. 4, No. 2,” blast-less slow track “Mutability,” and a cappella finale “Into an Echo.” Even within the band’s focused sound, one can never know what to expect. 

The Torrid Clime is a unique album driven by guitars that sound like harps and charismatic vocalists who could travel town to town in some idyllic reimagining of the past. Fraught with gentle tension and unruly percussion, The Torrid Clime doesn’t induce the sublime as obviously as in lots of metal but rather in a wholly unexpected way; as I kept returning to the album, it revealed itself to me in the dramatic performance of the lyrics, in the percussive transitions between riffs, and in the complex, expansive chords. Rintrah is an intriguing project, undoubtedly not for every metalhead, but for those with an open mind and an appreciation for the philosophical, the sublime awaits.

Recommended tracks: Fearful Symmetry, On the Giddy Brink, In Tempests, Into an Echo
You may also like: Botanist, Forêt Endormie, Howling Sycamore, Kaatayra
Final verdict: 8/10

Related links: Bandcamp

Label: Fiadh Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook

Rintrah is:
– Justin Collins – guitar
– Otrebor – drums, backing and lead vocals
– William Duplain – lead and backing vocals
– Arsenio Santos – bass

1. The Romantics’ glorification of the past, promotion of shared heritage, and emphasis on extreme emotion all contributed greatly to the rise of nationalism. This is also how I believe NSBM became such a problem in the black metal world. Metal’s full embrace of the Romantics’ philosophy comes with its negatives, too. ︎
2.  From A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful. ︎
3. Rintrah don’t even quote some of my favorite basic-bitch Romantic poets like Colerdige, Wordsworth, and Keats. Definitely look into all of these Romantic poets, though! ︎
4. The bard is a common Romantic motif in their exaltation of the past. ︎

The post Review: Rintrah – The Torrid Clime appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive Deathcore, Technical Death Metal (Harsh Vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Fallujah, Rivers of Nihil, Black Crown Initiate, An Abstract Illusion, The Contortionist (early)
Country: USA (Nebraska)
Release date: 25 July 2025

Ben’s Raincoat is a legendary item that prevents one debuff and instead grants a temporary barrier for ten percent of maximum heal-oh shit, wrong review. Ahem. 

Named after an item from indie rogue-like game Risk of Rain 2 (great game by the way), Ben’s Raincoat is an American progressive death metal/deathcore band who describe themselves as a “Rogue-Like band with permadeath”. Well, that’s not a very helpful description, but suffice to say, Ben’s Raincoat obviously has a passion for gaming and music, so they’re alright dudes in my book. Radiant Cliffs is the debut EP from the five-piece tech death startup, and right off the bat, some comparisons are readily apparent. 

Perhaps the simplest way to sum up Ben’s Raincoat’s style is by saying that it sounds like half of the band’s favorite Fallujah album is Empyrean—abundant with modern technical rhythm guitar work and atmospheric lead guitar/synth textures—and the other half’s favorite is Leper Colony, with its crushing breakdowns and a more chug oriented approach to riffing. Radiant Cliffs’s riffing style consists mainly of arpeggiated melodic structures, and is often accompanied by soaring leads, blast beats, and double bass, forging ahead until they are inevitably interrupted by some form of deathcore breakdown. “Plunder” acts as a compelling thesis for such an approach: a swelling synth intro blooms into the main theme of the song—a 16th note tremolo that outlines the central chord progression—which returns later in expanded form for the chorus. I enjoy how each chorus is composed of straight 16th notes while every other part of “Plunder” has more of a cantering triplet feel, giving the song an engaging and satisfying structure. Ben’s Raincoat’s riffs are at their best when they focus on outlining and enhancing a song’s structure and melodic progression, or when straying further into galloping metalcore territory (“Material Possessions”, “Chorus of Flies”), and “Plunder” has both sides in spades. 

As with many a debut EP though, there are questionable exploratory moments that sound like Ben’s Raincoat didn’t quite know how to flesh out an idea, or otherwise fit certain parts together cohesively. Riffs will sometimes stray into odd deathcore-infused djent territory that feels at odds with the rest of a song’s structure. Take the intro riff to “Material Possessions” as an example: a stilted 16th note pattern jumps over awkward intervals that compose a melody which sounds more akin to an early 2010’s solo bedroom djent project than a modern tech death group. One of my favorite riffs of the EP follows immediately afterward—a shimmering downward cascade of 16th note groupings of three—giving a slight whiplash effect to a high point due to the somewhat clumsy pacing. Similarly, “Ignition” opens with an out of place hardcore riff bereft of any form of lead guitar or synth texture, leaving the track sounding like an unfinished soundscape in the context of the rest of Radiant Cliffs when the obvious intent was to be a firestarting thrasher.. Deathcore breakdowns occur on nearly every track, ranging from climactic (“Chorus of Flies”) to derivative Lorna Shore ripoffs (“Horticulture”), another symptom of the inexperience and inconsistency common on debut releases.

Besides Fallujah’s dreamy riff-laden atmosphere and Lorna Shore’s formulaic breakdowns, the other main point of reference to be found on Radiant Cliffs comes—somewhat surprisingly—in the form of vocalist Dominik English’s uncanny resemblance at times to Cattle Decapitation’s Travis Ryan. English has a massive range which he fully utilizes, and is able to pull off the same form of half-distorted “goblin” singing that Ryan is so well known for. At times, the vocal performance verges on the stereotype of deathcore vocal olympics, but English has a great sense of pacing, injecting his performance with plenty of layering and variety in an intelligent and natural manner, fully justifying his utilization of the tropes. While such a performance goes hand in hand with the core tech death and deathcore conceit of Ben’s Raincoat, it also has the unfortunate side effect of further illuminating the neophytic qualities of Radiant Cliffs. 

Fear not though, Ben’s Raincoat. You were raised in the crucible of rogue-like gaming. Sure, there are plenty of weak moments to go along with the strong, but the strong has great potential to be refined into something unique and compelling. You have the opportunity to take everything you’ve learned from your debut EP and do even better on your next playthrou-errr, release. There are a number of small details that shine through the tropes—such as the spectral piano over the chugging riff in “Chorus of Flies”, or the nostril inhale before the track’s climactic final breakdown—that blow the winds favorably in your direction. All that’s left is to continue working, exploring, and respawning until you’ve perfected your build. Something something meta progression.

Recommended tracks: Plunder, Material Possessions, Chorus of Flies
You may also like: Abiotic, Krosis, Ovid’s Withering, Serein
Final verdict: 5.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram | Metal-Archives

Label: Independent

Ben’s Raincoat is:
– Jared LeGier (Bass)
-Geddy Johnson (Drums)
-Jace Krajicek (Lead Guitars)
-Nick Jordan (Rhythm Guitars)
-Dominik English (Vocals)

The post Review: Ben’s Raincoat – Radiant Cliffs appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by: Marald van Haasteren

Style: Doom Metal, Alternative Metal (Clean Vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Alice in Chains, Baroness, Pallbearer
Country: New York, United States
Release date: 27 June 2025

This may upset some people, but I thought Alice In Chains’ mid-Aughts reformation yielded some of the band’s coolest work. Perhaps not anything remotely as eternal as “Man in the Box,” “Rooster,” or “Would?,” but the shift from dark, moody grunge to dark, moody, doom-inspired grooves and atmosphere on Black Gives Way to Blue (2009) and The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here (2013) was fucking sick. Furthermore, they helped propel me towards bands like Pallbearer and other purveyors of riff-forward heavy rock. Disappointingly, the William DuVall-era of Alice in Chains has seen little activity since 2018’s Rainier Fog. Luckily, Blood Vulture has swooped in to partake of Jerry Cantrell and the boys’ lunch.

Circling the skylines of New York, the titular Blood Vulture reveals itself as one Jordan Olds, host of YouTube talk show Two Minutes to Late Night and, apparently, omni-gifted musician. From the girthsome, riff-forward doom guitars, modern metalcore-flavored synthesizers, roiling bass, down to the eerie Jerry Cantrell-esque crooning and bellowing, Olds executes nearly every aspect of debut album Die Close. One-man projects are nothing new in the world of metal (black metal, especially, seems laden with bedroom conjurers). While undertaking such a project is, I think, deserving of some measure of applause out the gate, there runs the risk that such high-minded ambitions may outstrip the capacity of the practitioner. For every Midnight Odyssey, a thousand more Oksennus¹ (Oksenni?) exist, filling the void with noise. Olds, to his credit, appears to have sidestepped some of this auteur-minded hubris by stacking a sizable guest roster at his back. But is this enough to give Blood Vulture’s debut the wings needed to soar? Or is the folly of man destined to curse Die Close with Icarian luck?

I’ll not beat around the wing—er, bush: This album kicks ass. From the opening guitar line and creeping vocal motifs of “Die Close: Overture” (finally, an intro that warrants its existence!) to the last resplendent harmonies of “Die Close: Finale,” Blood Vulture spends forty-five minutes delivering delectable platters of slow-rolling, tectonic alternative metal skewed toward a darkly Gothic ethos about a vampire living out the last of his immortal days long after the death of Humanity. Thick yet nimble riffs drill through post-apocalyptic landscapes of thunderous drums and growling bass tones, synths glittering like snatches of starlight piercing smog-choked skies. Olds’ voice is rich and thrumming with a decadent power worthy of his centuries-old protagonist. Alongside the obvious Cantrell-canting, there’re nuggets of John Baizely (Baroness) lingering in his harmonies (“Die Close: Interlude”), and even flashes of Sumerlands’ Phil Swanson in the way his voice melds with the production, culminating in a mosaic of winsome sonic idents.

Musically, Die Close haunts the liminal space between the morbid emotionality of Alice in Chains and the heaving riff-roil and production-blasting of modern doom mavericks Pallbearer. Olds buries the listener in bone-churning, groove-laden guitars, like the plaintive howls of Mankind’s vengeful ghost echoing across this blasted necropolis called Earth. Moe Watson’s drumming is equally committed, pounding and bludgeoning whatever life remains, heavy as the footsteps of our doomed vampiric wayfarer—yet capable of breaking into bursts of potent energy when required (“An Embrace In The Flood,” “A Dream About Starving To Death,” “Grey Mourning”), striking out with stampeding double bass and frenzied ride cymbal strikes like a sudden onset of PTSD. Doom metal can sometimes wander into realms of navel gazing, keen to drill away at a riff or motif endlessly to the point where the proverbial horse is beyond beaten. Blood Vulture soars over this pitfall thanks to considerate track lengths and song structures designed around forward momentum. Guest contributions from the likes of Kristin Hayter (Reverend Kristin Michael Hayter, ex-Lingua Ignota), Brian Fair (Shadows Fall, Overcast, Hell Night, Downpour), and Jade Puget (AFI, Blaqk Audio, XTRMST) fit into Die Close’s architecture flawlessly, adding to the album’s layers of dark, tragic beauty. (Hayter on “Entwined” creates an absolute standout of a track, in particular, her gospel-like vocals the perfect partner to Olds’ resonant cleans.) Even the interludes, of which there are three, secure worthy positions thanks to how they return to and build upon what becomes the album’s central motif, with “Die Close: Finale” closing the story with the kind of sorrowful bombast worthy of a suffering immortal.

Another feather in Blood Vulture’s plumage is a far simpler (on paper), yet no less important matter—one that has oft-wounded many an ambitious band and, generally (for me), marred the very reputation of the vaunted concept album. Olds has managed to strike a fine balance between his narrative goals and musical musts. He never forgets that Die Close is an album. Not a book. Not a movie. An album, whose mission first and foremost must be to enrapture the listener with its sonic wiles. Lyrics, and storytelling by proxy, are necessary components to this configuration, but when Aristotelian directives override bardic needs with three-act fancies, there’s little to be salvaged from the experience. Barring the “Die Close” trifecta of interludes, any of Die Close’s seven proper tracks can stand strong in a playlist shuffle without blunting momentum or capsizing the story, as the narratives are nestled snugly within the ebb and flow of their parent songs.

Since Sleep Token dropped Even In Arcadia back in May, I have been wondering if there would be anything in 2025 to come along and grab me in any similar way. I’ve listened to more than a few fun records, but most have been missing some measure of that special sauce required to saturate my taste. Blood Vulture doesn’t entirely reach the same level of addictive listening—few things will, at least until Silent Planet drops a new album—but this has been the first record post-EIA that I’ve sat back and gone, “I don’t really have anything negative to say.” Maybe the production could be a little clearer at times—the bass tends to get lost amidst the ruckus, an affliction all too common within metal—but this is some of the grooviest, coolest stuff I’ve listened to all year. Olds (and his collaborators) must certainly be commended for dropping such a confident piece of work. I don’t know who in 2025 may be waiting for new Alice in Chains, but if you’re out there, fret not: Blood Vulture is here to fill the void, and then some.

Recommended tracks: A Dream About Starving To Death, Grey Mourning, Entwined, Die Close: Finale
You may also like: A Pale Horse Named Death, Hangman’s Choir
Final verdict: 8.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Official Website | Facebook | Instagram | Metal-Archives

Label: Pure Noise Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Blood Vulture is:
– Jordan Olds (vocals, guitars, bass, synthesizers)
With guests:
– Jade Puget (additional guitars on “Grey Mourning”)
– Kristin Hayter (additional vocals on “Entwined” and “Die Close: Finale”)
– Brian Fair (additional vocals on “Burn For It”)
– Moe Watson (drums)
– Gina Gleason (additional guitars on “Die Close: Interlude”, additional vocals on “Die Close: Finale”)
– Emily Lee (additional vocals on “Die Close: Finale”)
– Steve Brodsky (additional vocals on “Die Close: Finale”)
– Kayleigh Goldsworthy (violin on “Entwined,” “Die Close: Interlude,” and “Abomination”)

1. See Andy’s review of Auringolla Ei Ole Käsiä for details. ︎

The post Review: Blood Vulture – Die Close appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Drone, ambient, post-rock (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Sumac, Sunn O))), Swans
Country: Connecticut, United States
Release date: 1 August 2025

A ghost yearns for escape from the house in which they died, contemplating the weeds that grow over their grave; a man sees the reflection of a familiar yet contorted face in place of his own in a bathroom mirror, slowly eroding his sanity; at the end of a hopelessly long corridor, blasphemous rituals force prophecy out of the mouth of a severed head. Stories of haunting tie a past that cannot be ignored to the present, occupying spaces both physical and mental. Kayo Dot‘s latest record, Every Rock, Every Half-Truth Under Reason, lives wholly in this haunted world, casting incorporeal shadows on doorways through amorphous, experimental post-rock and shrill, brittle drone. Can Kayo Dot exorcise the ghosts of their past, or will the specter of half-truths loom forever?

Reuniting the lineup from Kayo Dot‘s 2003 debut Choirs of the Eye, flashes of the group’s past manifest in elements of Every Rock. The spoken word passages that adorn “Oracle by Severed Head” and lengthy ambient piece “Automatic Writing” recall the poetry present in many of Choirs‘ pieces. The freeform post-rock from the debut is let even further off the reins as “Oracle by Severed Head” and “Blind Creature of Slime” contort notions of song structure and rhythm into something even more obscure and unrecognizable. What is noticeably new, though, is the presence of sonoristic drone pieces, sitting in high-pitched and microtonal chords for lengthy periods accompanied by hoarse harsh vocals. Lyrically, Every Rock is teeming with the paranormal, crafting imagery around desecrated bodies (“Oracle by Severed Head”), a paranoid decay of wellbeing (“Closet Door in the Room Where She Died”), and entities bubbling with indiscriminate hatred (“Blind Creature of Slime”).

The signature compositional style of Every Rock is one of sheer intractability: well-defined beginnings and endings seldom appear across its extended pieces, and tracks are labyrinthine in structure. Opener “Mental Shed” immediately introduces harsh vocals and gleaming organs with no fanfare, suddenly transporting the listener into a painfully bright liminal space that stretches endlessly in all directions. The only musical footholds are clambering percussion and faint, ephemeral woodwinds. “Closet Door in the Room Where She Died” embodies a similar form, being led along by shrill keyboards, menacing strings and woodwinds, and wailing shrieks from Jason Byron; occasionally, a ghastly choir vocalizes in response to the maniacal ramblings of the narrator. From this Lynchian compositional approach arises an ineffable discomfort and occasional terror as the scant elements that engender a sense of familiarity either quickly fade away in wisps of smoke or melt into something unrecognizable.

Every Rock‘s post-rock tracks are similarly esoteric, albeit with an execution based on heavy use of free-time rhythms and asynchronous accents. “Oracle By Severed Head” gently introduces jangly guitars, splashing drums, and placid woodwinds which ebb and flow around Toby Driver’s diaphanous vocals. Everything plays in the same oscillating rubato but on wildly different accents, as if the constituent parts are a stewing suspension where each component is magnetically repelled from the other. Near its end, strings congeal each element into a towering behemoth as the track builds into a massive climax. “Blind Creature of Slime”, on the other hand, is compositionally stubborn, sporadically iterating on a single guitar phrase underneath a forceful and powerful vocal performance. The track begins on its highest note, wrapping its tendrils around the listener’s consciousness and forcing them to face the narrator’s blinding hatred, but spins its wheels for a touch too long. There is an intentionality in its repetitious unease, but by the end, I’m broken out of the suspension of disbelief needed to buy in to “Blind Creature” fully.

Working in tandem with the subtle evolution in Every Rock‘s tracks is the overall album pacing. Many of the record’s most stunning moments are born from the contrast and transition between drone and post-rock. The transition from “Mental Shed” to “Oracle by Severed Head” feels all the more cathartic and dreamy due to the intense release from the former’s shrill synthesizers into the latter’s hazy and relaxed instrumentation. The petering out of “Automatic Writing” makes the explosive introduction of “Blind Creature of Slime” even more intense. Additionally, the break in the piercing organs in the final third of “Closet Door in the Room Where She Died” creates a stark and powerful silence after they etch into the listener’s consciousness for ten-plus minutes. The longest track, “Automatic Writing”, is comparatively weaker when looking at the other drone tracks. In concept, the piece is compositionally brilliant, slowly coalescing its constituent parts from a blurry fuzz into wistful ambient passages with longing poetry, delicate soundscaping, and ascendant group vocals; I just wish it reached homeostasis more quickly. Its mammoth introductory segment evolves at a glacial pace—even Driver’s vocals are rendered textural as notes are held out for remarkably long intervals. Were “Automatic Writing” edited down, it would likely have the same emotional impact as the aforementioned tracks, but stands as a bit too meandering to fully earn its runtime as-is.

Every Rock, Every Half-Truth Under Reason is a brilliant, though occasionally flawed, marriage of the relatable and the surreal. Ultimately, the record chooses not to exorcise its ghosts, but instead invokes them, asking the listener to share the space and embrace the discomfort of that which is unknowable and irresolute. By cleverly subverting ideals of song structure, rhythm, and tonality, Every Rock fully embodies the liminal spaces inhabited by that which haunts us.

Recommended tracks: Oracle by Severed Head, Closet Door in the Room Where She Died
You may also like: Khanate, Alora Crucible, The Overmold, Natural Snow Buildings
Final verdict: 7.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Official Website | Facebook | Instagram | Metal-Archives

Label: Prophecy Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Kayo Dot is:
– Toby Driver (vocals, guitar, bass, keyboards, organs, clarinet, flute, drums)
– Greg Massi (guitars)
– Matthew Serra (guitars)
– Sam Gutterman (drums, vibraphone, percussion)
– Terran Olson (clarinet, saxophone, flute)
– David Bodie (percussion)
With guests:
– Jason Byron (vocals, track 3)

The post Review: Kayo Dot – Every Rock, Every Half-Truth Under Reason appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Black metal, atmospheric black metal, post-black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Emperor, The Black Dahlia Murder, Carach Angren
Country: Washington, United States
Release date: 18 July 2025

This year has seen no shortage of post-black metal releases. So many, in fact, that I’m overwhelmed with pings from Andy to check out this or that release in one of my favorite genres. I can’t keep up. But, as I let my Release Radar play the other day at my real job¹, a vaguely post-black track piqued my interest. I opened my Spotify window to see a track called “No Less Than Death” by… Abigail Williams? Damn. Truth be told, they are a band that fell off my radar ages ago for whatever reason. I remember them having a vaguely symphonic black metal sound—with a metalcore oomph. What I was listening to at that moment, however, reminded me of Numenorean more than anything: moody, resonant, and full of rich vocal harmonies before the raspy black metal vocals took hold. Strange to open up a review of an album by talking about the closer, but it’s how I was introduced to A Void Within Existence. Would the rest of the LP sink its teeth into me in a similar fashion?

To find out, I hit rewind. The first thing to grab my attention as A Void Within Existence opened was the bass work of John Porada. “Life, Disconnected” starts the LP off with a slow, dissonant crawl in which the bass is almost front-and-center. I love a black metal album where you not only feel the bass, but hear it audibly in the mix as well. “Nonexistence” commences in similar fashion, but opting for sadness over angry dissonance. The track wanders through a murky melancholy, and ends with a guitar solo full of breathing bends that twist your insides in David Gilmour fashion. My only gripe here is that it ends too soon, leaving you wanting more. But honestly, that might be my only real complaint about any of these songs: I just want more. And when a seven, eight, or nine minute track ends and feels like it flew by in half the time, is that even a complaint? Or just a sign something special is happening?

Though many tracks are emotive—and boy howdy, take your pick among despair, grief, wonder, or almost any other plaintive feeling—the beating heart within this …Existence is a tech-laden strain of black metal that is as varied as it is heavy. Much of that impact is owed to the drumwork of Mike Heller. You may know him from his contributions to about a million different projects and bands, including Fear Factory and Malignancy, but most notably for a handful of us at the Subway from his recent work in Changeling. He is credited here as a session musician, which makes me pity the poor soul that Abigail Williams find to play these blistering, hyper-technical drum parts on tour. “Void Within,” a furious and scraping black metal odyssey, showcases Heller’s prowess. His brute intensity and technical precision are cranked to eleven throughout the track. Lightning-fast double-bass, relentless blast beats, varied use of every cymbal at his disposal, and a flurry of whimsical fills on all of the toms come together in a performance that is both dazzling and tasteful—never showy for its own sake, but always exactly what the song demands (and then some).

A Void Within Existence would be a strong black metal release even if it were made up solely of songs like the aforementioned “Void Within,” or another glass-eating black metal track like “Still Nights.” But the veteran musicians that currently comprise Abigail Williams turn …Existence into something much more ambitious. You’ll know exactly what I mean when you listen to the whole of “Talk To Your Sleep,” which starts with the stankiest of down-tuned riffs. If I ever get a job hammering railroad spikes, this is the track I’m listening to for my rhythm and pace. What takes “Talk To Your Sleep” to another level, though, is the melodic bridge it eases into halfway through its runtime. It’s one of those elevating moments on A Void Within Existence that confirms you’re listening to songwriting that’s as emotionally intelligent as it is heavy.

From the fleeting strings and drifting keys that haunt its margins, to the earthquaking heaviness at its core, that emotional intelligence is woven into the compositional choices that comprise A Void Within Existence. Abigail Williams don’t simply stack riffs or pile on atmosphere for the hell of it. Rather, a keen sense of pacing and a dollop of emotive contrast provide the hooks that have kept me spinning this album repeatedly. Just when you think you’ve mapped the territory, the ground shifts beneath you—come for the nihility, stay for the empathy.

Take “Embrace the Chasm,” for instance. The song opens with a familiar black metal snarl—solid stuff, I think to myself. But almost on cue, as if Ken Sorceron (the everpresent frontman of Abbie Dubs) had heard my thoughts, the track pivots. Suddenly, gloomy arpeggios drift in, shadowed by echoing piano, pulling the song into a more introspective space. “We’re not aiming for ‘solid,’ here,” he seems to say—and the song isn’t done shapeshifting yet. In its final third, the track unfurls into something strangely serene, and almost hopeful. The melodies lift upward, carrying you into something both heavy and soothing. A black metal lullaby, drifting towards peace. In that shift from fury to beauty I feel the nuance that has kept me tethered to this genre: a rage giving way to release.

If you told me that Abigail Williams were going to drop one of my favorite releases of the year (and the cover art is taking my top spot in that regard), I would have been surprised. Not because I ever held any dislike for the band, but because I hadn’t thought about them in so long. They’d quietly drifted out of rotation. But A Void Within Existence has pulled me right back in. The album is moody, technical, surprising, and—like my favorite extreme metal releases—bridges brutality with beauty in a way all its own. Consider this my belated apology for ever letting them slip off my radar, and a nudge to make sure they don’t fall off yours.

Recommended tracks: No Less Than Death, Embrace the Chasm, Talk to Your Sleep, Void Within
You may also like: Valdrin, Illyria, …And Oceans
Final verdict: 8.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram | Metal-Archives

Label: Agonia Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Abigail Williams is:
– John Porada (bass)
– Ken Sorceron (vocals, guitars)
– Vance Valenzuela (guitars)
With guests:
– Mike Heller (drums)

1. This will probably come as a shock to our readers, but working solely at The Progressive Subway wouldn’t pay the bills. Or even a bill. ︎

The post Review: Abigail Williams – A Void Within Existence appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive death metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Blood Incantation, Death, Morbid Angel
Country: Florida, United States
Release date: 25 July 2025

Between the summers of 2017 and 2018, I had the misfortune of living in the oppressively muggy hellscape that is Jacksonville, Florida. I was in my mid-twenties, fresh out of law school, and ready to complete a year-long gig that happened to be based there. Surely the coastal city—geographically one of the largest in the United States—has some nice areas and redeeming qualities, but those aren’t what I remember. No, the Dirty J was home to a dilapidated downtown area, characterless suburban sprawl, a rash of severe storms, and incessant swampy heat. I really can’t think of a better setting to inspire some winding, gritty, feverish death metal. And that’s exactly what we get from Jacksonville’s own Haxprocess.

The band’s sophomore album, Beyond What Eyes Can See, offers forty-five minutes of progressive death metal packed into four meaty tracks. Drawing clear inspiration from Blood Incantation, these Floridians place psychedelic twists among wandering riffs, all given life by a warm, old-school-tinged production. Haxprocess’s sound is heavy, but at the same time open and expansive—much like their overstretched hometown. In case you couldn’t tell, I wasn’t a fan of my year in Jacksonville. Will Beyond What Eyes Can See bring something good out of that godforsaken city?

Haxprocess’s style of death metal can be distilled down to two words: riff salad. Countless riffs comprise the band’s long, freeform compositions, frequently taking a core idea and permuting it several times over—rhythmically, in phrasing, and in texture. A captivating dual-guitar attack characterizes Beyond What Eyes Can See, as one guitar often strays from the other, comes back with harmonization, or unites fully for emphasis. The album holds plenty of strong leads and solos as well. Although the drums are consistently shifting and grooving, and the bass occasionally pokes out with some runs of its own, the guitars are clearly the central focus, and the album’s better for it. 

Once in a while, Haxprocess cease the heavy, greasy riffing and stray into psychedelic territory. The final few minutes of “The Confines of the Flesh” feature a few dreamier passages amidst the fray, and “Thy Inner Demon Seed” comes to a halt about halfway through and switches over to an infectiously trippy section built atop lighter, swirling guitars. Album closer “Sepulchral Void” pulls a similar trick around its midpoint as well, offering a compelling bridge of clean guitars and emphatic volume swells. Although the airy passages are a welcome break from the serpentine death metal, they could be incorporated a little more smoothly. These shifts to lighter atmospheres aren’t the only sticky compositional points on the album, either—across all tracks but with notable frequency in the closer, the band come to a hard stop simply to switch from one heavy texture to another. Despite being four long tracks, Beyond What Eyes Can See can feel like an album of bits and pieces. 

In a similar vein, the tracks’ lengths aren’t always fully justified. Opener “Where Even Stars Die” does a good job of stringing together strong parts cohesively and varying textures logically, but the other tracks aren’t quite as successful. “The Confines of the Flesh,” particularly, tests just how many similar pinch-harmonic-centered riffs a listener can endure as it wanders from part to part. And throughout the album, many riffs begin to sound the same—a shocking amount end with only slightly varying, choppy triplet phrases. On the whole, the songs tend to be a little bloated. That said, the Haxprocess do strike gold now and again: the harmonized, drawling riff that closes “Thy Inner Demon Seed,” as well as the track’s psychedelic middle bridge, are prime examples. It’s passages like these that pull the listener back in and keep the album engaging.

Ultimately, Beyond What Eyes Can See is a solid take on riff-centered, sprawling, and sometimes spacey death metal with old-school flair. Compositionally, the album leaves a bit to be desired, and the tracks’ component pieces aren’t always of even quality. Still, there’s plenty of guitar work to enjoy, and the highest points are full of creativity and intrigue. Haxprocess might not have done the unthinkable and redeemed Jacksonville in my mind, but Beyond What Eyes Can See is more enjoyable than anything else I remember of that wretched city.

Recommended tracks: Where Even Stars Die, Thy Inner Demon Seed
You may also like: Ancient Death, Horrendous, Bedsore, Felgrave, Tomb Mold
Final verdict: 6.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram | Metal-Archives

Label: Transcending Obscurity Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Haxprocess is:
– Lothar Mallea (guitars and vocals)
– Shane Williamson (guitars)
– Davis Leader (bass)
– Adam Robinson (drums)

The post Review: Haxprocess – Beyond What Eyes Can See  appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive death metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Septicflesh, Fleshgod Apocalypse, Strapping Young Lad, Children of Bodom
Country: United States (NY)
Release date: 4 July 2025

What’s in a name? The walls of my music library are lined with bands whose creative output I passed over for years due to their terrible branding. Septicflesh, Fleshgod Apocalypse, Bedsore… the list goes on. I’ll never understand why so many good artists choose to debase their projects by naming themselves after bodily functions or necrotic diseases. While I may be more prudish than many in the metal scene (I judiciously save up swear words for special occasions and avoid them in everyday use), I’ve nonetheless learned that sometimes, you have to set aside preconceptions based on a band’s name, and let the music speak for itself. And who better to come gushing forth from the underground metal scene to help me enact this principle than the campily-named Pissectomy?

Setting aside for a moment the troubling medical implication of a pissectomy (where is the piss going? Does the procedure make you unable to piss, or does it cause a constant stream to be siphoned from your body?), Pissectomy’s name was clearly chosen for shock value. The band’s early output leaned into this, with deliberately subversive and urine-based lyrical themes and a sample-heavy, drugged-out noisegrind style. However, the adage of “let it mellow if it’s yellow” seems to have shaped Pissectomy’s style and restraint over time, as the latest record holds a surprising amount of refinement under the toilet-seat humour.

Pissectomy is nominally a one-man project helmed by Jason Steffen of New York and South Korea¹, but much of new release Electric Elephant Graveyard is brought to life by a cast of hired guns from Fiverr (an online marketplace for freelance service providers) and similar platforms, and the result is intriguingly genre-fluid. The first two tracks on the album are lavishly outfitted in sympho-death grandeur—think of the aforementioned Septicflesh or Fleshgod Apocalypse—but then the orchestra quietly slips out the back before the third track, “Sharkstar”, without so much as a tuba case banging against the doorframe on the way out. Save for a subtle reprise of some strings in album closer “Singularity”, the rest of the album relieves itself of symphonic elements, offering up riffs and licks galore with predominant influences from death metal titans like Cannibal Corpse and Children of Bodom, plus dashes of power, thrash, and prog.

For all of Pissectomy’s crude branding, Electric Elephant Graveyard is surprisingly restrained in its use of urinary humor, and it’s certainly not evident in the music itself. The tracks are layered, and even in a single offering like the seven-minute “Starstorm Omega”, multiple stylistic themes from fantastical power metal pomp to rhythmically itch-scratching, proggy helter-skelter are deployed thoughtfully. If you were not privy to Pissectomy’s subject matter, you could listen to almost the entire album without noticing any overt nephritics. Occasional lyrical groaners like “rest in piss” or “war and piss” are easy enough to miss. The jig is up, however, on the rather overtly-named “Pissrealm Antichrist”, where a layered vocal chorus repeatedly chants “all hail piss and shit”.

With Pissectomy’s freelanced cast of contributors, who exactly deserves credit for the various elements of Electric Elephant Graveyard is cloudy². The vocal duties, for instance, are shared between Steffen himself and at least one guest contributor, Topias Jokipii. Whatever the division of labour, the results are dynamic and versatile. There’s a simperingly evil D&D-grade sorcerer flavour to the spoken word on “Pissrealm Antichrist”, Cannibal Corpse-esque torridly deep pigsqueals on “Sharkstar”, and a gritty clean vocal refrain on “Sharkstar” that sounds like King Diamond pitched down an octave or so out of the screeching falsetto stratosphere. The guitar work, though, might just be number one. Steffen is clearly having a blast, and moments like the indulgently sprawling solo in “Welcome to Dead End” or the tightly coiled, chugging bursts on “Starstorm Omega” demonstrate equal parts laudable musicianship and clever composition.

While there is some level of tonal coherence across Electric Elephant Graveyard, as Pissectomy keeps up a steady flow of momentum, a clearer sense of identity would help the record to better coalesce. Pissectomy is a former noisegrind band blending elements of symphonic, power, death, thrash, and progressive metal into their sound. And while Steffen clearly has reverence for all of these genres, the crossing of the streams can be a bit much. There’s even an acoustic guitar interlude, “Astronomy”, which is lovely but lands rather disjointedly in the album’s entirety. Perhaps some of the vignette-based songwriting from Steffen’s noisegrind roots is hampering the development of a cohesive whole. The individual elements succeed, but a step back to take in the big picture across the album’s forty minutes could help everything stick together.

 If given ten guesses as to what a band named Pissectomy would sound like, I wouldn’t have come close. While I still wouldn’t rush to pop this album on the aux, Electric Elephant Graveyard’s balls-to-the-wall energy, as well as veneration for the various genres influencing Pissectomy’s sound, makes for a surprisingly charming listen. Sometimes, you have to be prepared to flush your assumptions down the drain.

Recommended tracks: Welcome to Dead End, Sharkstar, Singularity
You may also like: Shadecrown, Sigh
Final verdict: 6.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Instagram | Metal-Archives

Label: Independent

Pissectomy is:
– Jason Steffen (guitar, vocals)
– Topias Jokipii (vocals)
– People from Fiverr (other assorted instruments)

1. Steffen is currently stationed with the US military in South Korea as a fighter pilot. ︎
2. Like your pee might be if you’re dehydrated. ︎

The post Review: Pissectomy – Electric Elephant Graveyard appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by: Albert Bierstadt (1868); Layout by: Annick Giroux

Style: Epic Doom Metal, Folk Metal, Heavy Metal (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Unleash the Archers, Cirith Ungol, Visigoth
Country: Illinois, United States
Release date: 27 June 2025

Growing up, I was all about fantasy, especially in my metal. Themes of wonder and romance, mythical beasts and steadfast warriors filled my imagination. Yet these days, I’ve found it harder and harder to connect with this formerly potent musical leyline. Call it a reflection of the times. I still love the bands I grew up with—the Kamelots, Symphony Xs, and Dios—and I’ve flirted with some newer makes and models (Unleash the Archers has done some fantastic work in the space). But, as we’ve marched closer towards dystopia, tales of adventure seem perhaps churlish compared to the angst and uncertainty permeating our modern world. Sauron is winning, and the Fellowship is splintered over a culture war.

Yet there’s a part of me that yearns to believe in heroes of might and magic once more. Which brings us to Chicagoan heavy metal warband, Fer de Lance (not to be confused with the Peruvian thrashers of the same name). Coming onto the scene only five years ago with their Colossus EP, and debut full-length The Hyperborean in 2022, the band have flown completely under my radar until now. They peddle in “epic doom”—basically, fantasy-fuelled, mid-paced heavy metal full of lurching, heroic riffs and deliberate kitwork, like a steadfast march towards glory and gold. Taken in by the gorgeous cover art of latest album, Fires on the Mountainside, and intrigued by the promise of the epic doom metal by which Fer de Lance mark their trade, I was eager to see if these mighty men of metal have what it takes to break the curse and return the fire to my fantasy-loving heart.

If ever there was a soundtrack to evoke the sword-and-sorcery, devil-may-care adventuring of Robert E. Howard’s brooding Cimmerian, Conan, and kindred ilk, Fires on the Mountainside makes a strong case for consideration. From minute one, opener (and title track) “Fires on the Mountainside” saunters forth with jaunty guitar and a bard-worthy chorus as frontman MP bellows “I seeee… fires on the mountainside,” tossing in some Woah-ohs for good measure. Flickers of black metal emerge in the bridge as trem-picking and rasped vocals create a sense of descent into danger, showcasing Fer de Lance’s ability to steer the material wherever the greatest adventure lies. At nearly thirteen minutes, “Fires on the Mountainside” is one hell of a way to kick off a record, as it twists and turns and climbs across subgenres, from rousing epic doom, black metal, and glints of folk in the acoustic-strummed guitars that underpin much of the proceedings. MP’s range is impressive as he plumbs the depths of rattling growls, tough-guy gravel, all the way to the high-fantasy heights of falsetto wails.

What follows across the album’s forty-nine minutes sees the band pull from much of the same arsenal—though like the aforementioned Conan, they’ve descended from their wind-swept kingdom well-versed in their chosen arts, as no two songs sound the same. Take “Fire & Gold” with its Western-infused musical gallop, hand tambourines and stomping drums heralding a lone stranger’s ride into the kind of town where violence and virtue may yet clash, the dusty road stained black with an enemy’s blood under the white-hot bake of high noon. The chorus of “Death Thrives (Where Walls Divide)” sees MP’s harshes hit a vicious cadence akin to Legion of the Damned frontman Maurice Swinkels, giving the song an extra dose of theatrical menace before shifting into Eastern-influenced guitar wizardry of a most fine kind. MP finds some Ronnie James Dio-adjacent power in the vocals on “The Feast of Echoes,” leaning into some fun “mhmmmhmms” that make me think of a testosterone-fueled version of Rainbow.¹

Elsewhere and everywhere, I’m reminded in small ways of Eternal Champion, mostly in the band’s full-fledged commitment to the material. Fires on the Mountainside is refreshing: Unlike some fantasy-themed bands who write with their tongues planted firmly through cheek (and thus dabbling in irony-poisoned cringe), Fer de Lance write and perform their music with an unabashed, shameless love for the fantasy genre—theatrical, yes, but taken seriously. The songs are rousing, with full-chested deliveries and a palpable energy, despite the more moderate pacing. My only real complaint about the album is that some of the songs drag on a tad too long, and after a while I tend to forget where I am on the record. This is the kind of album that would absolutely thrive on a playlist. The songs are replete with fun transitions showcasing the music’s textures, which provide each track with individual merit. Yet together, Fires on the Mountainside loses some of its energy, the blazing bonfire giving ground to the encroaching shadows of distraction. By the time we reach “Tempest Stele,” the storm has turned into more of a gust and my legs ache for want of resting.

All said, Fer de Lance have come out of (subjectively) nowhere to impart upon mine ears a winsome collection of epic tales. In a day and age where fantasy-themed metal has largely been relegated to my rearview, Fires on the Mountainside stands as a perfect reminder that there are still bands out there writing the kind of stuff I crave—and new ones, at that! Like my current reading experience with Robert E. Howard’s The Coming of Conan the Cimmerian, Fires on the Mountainside offers a collection of well-crafted gems worthy of uncovering—perhaps best individually, rather than in one fell swoop. If you’ve been starved for metal of a steelier order, or just on the lookout for something new, then heed that yonder firelight in the distance, and let Fer de Lance take you on a glorious adventure.

Recommended tracks: Fires on the Mountainside, Death Thrives (Where Walls Divide), The Feast of Echoes
You may also like: Eternal Champion, Sumerlands, Conan
Final verdict: 7/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram | Metal-Archives

Label: Cruz de Sur Music Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Fer de Lance is:
– Rüst (bass, acoustic guitars, vocals, percussion)
– MP (vocals, guitars, keyboards)
– Scud (drums, vocals)
– J. Geist (guitars)

1.  I would love to hear Fer de Lance cover “Gates of Babylon.” ︎

The post Review: Fer de Lance – Fires on the Mountainside appeared first on The Progressive Subway.