Style: Doom metal, post-metal, drone, neofolk (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Conan, The Ocean, Neurosis, Om, Bell Witch, Lingua Ignota
Country: Canada
Release date: 8 August 2025

From a natural history perspective, the Earth has a remarkably tumultuous past. Starting its life in a barrage of cataclysmic impacts in the early solar system, the relative calm we experience today is uncharacteristic for our mercurial blue marble. Even going back just a few million years, the natural world was brutal, predatory, and unforgiving, a perfect landscape for metal’s monstrous riffs and dire atmospheres. Born from the primordial soup of Canadian doom metallers Völur and experimental electronic artist Cares, collaboration Breathless Spirit exhumes grayed fossils of old, uncovering dismal and violent pasts through experimental metal and folk music. The record is the latest in a series of collaborations from Völur known as “die Sprachen der Vögel”, or “The Language of Birds”; do Völur and Cares take off in glorious flight or does the language of Breathless Spirit fall on deaf ears?

Instrumental “Hearth” opens Breathless Spirit with the sound of flowing water, violins dirgefully rowing atop its currents as they repeat a thrumming motif. Völur and Cares take a loose approach to album flow, meandering along sinuous streams that traverse through lands of neofolk, drone, doom metal, and post-metal. This is not to say that they are lackadaisical or unfocused in their songwriting—each piece exudes an intentionality and plays a greater role in the record’s compositional narrative. Dynamics play a central role in song progression, as pieces are wont to begin slowly and subtly in the name of a monstrous climax (“Hearth”, “Windborne Sorcery II”, “On Drangey”) or begin raucously before petering out gently (“Breathless Spirit”).

Breathless Spirit embodies a certain nocturnal quality: the journey is one of de-emphasized riffs and subdued melodies in favor of hazy atmospherics, where silhouettes of the timberline stand out against a twilight sky but the details beneath are scant. Folkier sections invoke Impressionistic strings whose forms are gently tugged through gradual and minimal evolutions. Pieces like “Windborne Sorcery I”, “Hearth”, and “On Draney” are particularly delicate and intimate, tapping into a despondent sorrow that searches in vain for the words to articulate its internal world. The most stunning of these passages is the calmer second half of “Breathless Spirit”, where the harmonious vocals of Laura C. Bates and Lucas Gadke engage in plaintive dialogue with Bates’ expressive violin work; underneath, Cares’ keyboards add texture and color through subtle staccato jazz chords. Swirling winds then portend a powerful climax at the hands of Justin Ruppel’s kinetic drumming and Gadke’s psychedelic bass work in one of Breathless Spirit’s more ascendant moments.

The heavier tracks take a more chaotic and abrasive approach to Impressionism. A repetitive and chromatic riff etches out a jagged bed for Bates’ untethered banshee wails in the closing moments of “Windborne Sorcery II”, and watery tremolos reach a terrifying crest atop crushingly heavy drumwork in the first part of “Breathless Spirit”. The deluge of sludgy riffs reaches a head around the two-minute mark, where they pull back for a muted drum solo that builds into an eldritch vortex of intensity before the dam bursts and the track breaks down into placid folk instrumentals. Though these heavier moments engender an intense atmosphere, they are relatively impersonal compared to the calmer tracks, carrying an emotional detachment that makes them challenging to engage with fully. Try as I may, I can’t see the shrieking climax of “Windborne Sorcery II” as anything but well-done if unmoving, and the most compelling segment of closer “Death in Solitude” is when its stark tension finally begins to break thanks to subdued drum work and ominous clean vocals. A touch of melody in these sections would go a long way: “Breathless Spirit” is the most engaging of these heavier tracks as its riffage forsakes chromatic meandering for a more well-defined melodic identity. Additionally, the track doesn’t stay in its more intense form for too long, transitioning at just the right time into softer ideas.

Gripes with individual sections aside, Breathless Spirit is untouchable from an album flow perspective. There is a magic in the way that Völur and Cares effortlessly evoke compositional narrative as if Breathless Spirit’s disparate pieces were meant to be together. The earthen melodies of “Windborne Sorcery I” act as a perfect springboard into the apocalyptic doom of “Windborne Sorcery II”, whose chaos moves effortlessly into the oceanic heaviness of “Breathless Spirit”, ending on an appropriately calm note for “On Draney” to gently morph around droning violins. By hinting at future sections through subtle style shifts that retain the identity of their respective tracks, Breathless Spirit forges an inexorable bond between ideas that oscillate in intensity, style, and atmosphere.

Breathless Spirit coalesces a unique artistic vision through its experimental approach to metal. The nocturnal, primordial nature of its compositions lends the record to plaintive contemplation in its quieter moments and uproarious chaos in its heavier sections, even if these heavier sections often miss a bit of expressiveness. Still, the overall package is impossible to deny thanks to an alchemic magnetism between the band members and among Breathless Spirit’s disparate genres.

Recommended tracks: Breathless Spirit, Windborne Sorcery I, Hearth
You may also like: Wyatt E., Alora Crucible, The Ruins of Beverast, Sumac, Aerial Ruin
Final verdict: 7.5/10

Related links (Völur): Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram | Metal-Archives
Related links (Cares): Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Batke Records

Völur is:
– Laura C. Bates (strings, vocals, percussion)
– Lucas Gadke (bass, keyboards, woodwinds, vocals)
– Justin Ruppel (drums, percussion)
Cares is:
– James Beardmore (keyboards)

The post Review: Völur, Cares – Breathless Spirit appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Technical death metal, brutal death metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Suffocation, Dying Fetus, Gorguts, Nile, Immolation
Country: Canada
Release date: 20 June 2025

Of all the technical death metal OGs, Cryptopsy remain at the top of my favorites list. Blasphemy Made Flesh and None So Vile—hell, I’ll even add Whisper Supremacy to this list—are ‘90s death metal essentials with one overarching ethos: uncompromising technicality fused with unyielding brutality. After those releases, however, things get… controversial. By the mid ‘00s the group began to introduce other genre flavors into their sound—Once Was Not’s brash guitar work and syncopation left a distinct mathcore aftertaste, and The Unspoken King’s embrace of melody and breakdowns gave a deathcore-tinged aroma. Fans lost it. Cries of “sellout!” echoed across various and sundry forums and comment sections.² Amid the backlash came several changes in the lineup—which the band was never immune to—but in 2012, they stabilized. Their self-titled album that year, with just one founding member left, was widely regarded (somewhat ironically) as a return to form. And since then? They’ve clung to that sound like a lifeline.

An Insatiable Violence continues to hang on for dear life. Or at least it wants you to do so. This is a continuation of Cryptopsy’s post-2012 era sound: intensely technical rhythms, breakneck tempo changes, and Flo Mounier’s hyper-complex drumming are all here. Right out of the gate, vocalist Matt McGachy lets loose his signature howl (which will never get old) and we’re off, tumbling through a hellscape of rhythmic contortions, dissonant melodies, and blast-beaten obliteration. For better or worse, the intensity rarely lets up. Across its eight tracks, Violence stays pedal-to-the-fucking-death-metal: all gas, no brakes, nor breaks. It’s Cryptopsy, after all.

Still, on every track Cryptopsy provides a moment of clarity when the band lets a groovy bridge or tempo change shine by taking a swinging, half-time riff and using it to transition between two scorching sections. “Dead Eyes Replete” and “Embrace the Nihility” are probably my favorites in this regard. Other tracks, like “Until There’s Nothing Left” and “The Nimis Adoration,” have moments where they bring Olivier Pinard’s bass forward in the mix to showcase a sickly melody, letting the bass come up for air to do more than just keep the songs heavy on the low end. I wish Cryptopsy leaned into that consistently, because it works. These reprieves don’t mean I’m trying to make a case for less brutality. On the contrary, a showstopper on this LP is the blistering vocal work. I’ve always been a fan of McGachy’s voice (and his flowing locks), and he delivers another fantastic performance on Violence. “Fools Last Acclaim” showcases McGachy’s inhuman prowess, letting his vocals run the gamut from demonically low gutturals to wraith-like raspy high shrieks. Likewise, the ferocious drumming on this LP is top tier. Flo is a bit of an icon in the genre, and his combination of brute intensity and flawless precision is present in all thirty-four minutes of the album’s runtime.

But, despite the clear technical brilliance that An Insatiable Violence puts on display, the lack of variety might be the biggest criticism here. And that sucks to say, because as mentioned earlier, fans revolted when Cryptopsy even peeked outside of their wheelhouse. I don’t mean to say that the songs blend together—nobody is going to confuse Christian Donaldson’s groaning riffs in “Malicious Needs” with his fiery assault in “The Art of Emptiness”—but rather that few, if any, moments step outside the tightly constructed box the band has kept to in this era. That’s the price of consistency, I suppose. No filler, but few surprises. The production on the album is also tight and clear—perhaps to a fault. Every note is crisp; every kick of the bass drum surgically accurate. The polish really helps showcase Cryptopsy’s technical prowess, but it also scrubs away that filthy feeling that helped form the appeal of those early albums. It’s a fair trade-off, and one that fits their current mode well, even though it risks coming off as clinical.

A certain paradox exists with being an establishing act in extreme metal. When you break new ground early on, many metal fans expect you to stay rooted in the foundation you laid, resisting changes in design or renovations over the years. Cryptopsy have weathered the backlash that often comes with defying those expectations, enduring lineup shifts and stylistic detours along the way. But they’ve emerged with a sound that feels both true to their roots and sustainable in the long term. For longtime fans, that might be enough. For those looking for more innovation in tech-death, An Insatiable Violence will seem a bit rote. As for me, I’ll keep coming back to it—because I love this band, and because even when they’re not reinventing the wheel, they’re burning rubber like few can.

Recommended tracks: Malicious Needs, Fools Last Acclaim, The Nimis Adoration, Embrace the Nihility
You may also like: Malignancy, Brodequin, Serocs, Hideous Divinity
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Season of Mist – Bandcamp | Official Website | Facebook | Instagram

Cryptopsy is:
– Christian Donaldson (guitar)
– Matt McGachy (vocals)
– Flo Mounier (drums)
– Olivier Pinard (bass)

1. Ex-vocalist of Cryptopsy from 2001-2003, who passed away in 2024 ︎
2. Which is just silly. Moving from one extreme metal genre to a variation on another extreme metal genre isn’t “selling out” by any stretch of the imagination, folks. ︎

The post Review: Cryptopsy – An Insatiable Violence appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: post-metal, progressive death metal, atmospheric black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Immolation, Cult of Luna, Moonsorrow, Mare Cognitum
Country: Canada
Release date: 2 May 2025

I’ve always found it hilarious when veteran bands release their umpteenth studio album and hype it up as the work they’re most proud of yet, proclaiming that everybody will love it. I’m sure they know they’ve been phoning it in for several albums, and their label obligates them to say that (looking at you Dream Theater and Neal Morse). But maybe they really are just blind to having lost their spark. Not every record is a highlight of your career 15+ albums in, and it’s laughable to state that’s the case. A Flock Named Murder are only on their sophomore album, but in their promotional material, they make even stronger claims than the old legends: they are both “the inner sanctum of the self as a pyre” and “the infinite silence of god,” at the same time a “a eulogy burning away the very idea of worship” and “a rumination on humanity and those we’ve lost”… among several other bold assertions. Is Incendiary Sanctum worthy of the poetic bravado accompanying it, or do their claims top the absurdity of Dream Theater calling Parasomnia an inspired record?

The Canadians A Flock Named Murder occupy a liminal space between several styles of extreme metal, melding post-, prog, death, and black metal across the lengthy journey of four sweeping epics—each clocking in over the thirteen-minute mark. That alone is an ambitious tracklist for a fledgling band, ambition a trait which A Flock Named Murder have in spades. However, just as few bands can be both the infinite silence of god and the inner sanctum of the self as pyre, only a select few can pull off four gargantuan tracks on one record. Sadly, A Flock Named Murder accomplish neither.

A whole lot of wasted space makes its way onto Incendiary Sanctum, causing an already lengthy album a slog to push through. Starting with campfire sounds and three minutes of pleasant guitar noises, it’s clear from the start that the journey will be a lengthy one, but sometimes the best musical storytelling needs a dramatic beginning. Meanwhile, tracks “The Eulogy Fields” and “Pierced Flesh Catharsis” end with a minute of reverb. Other sections in the midst of tracks slow down to a doomy crawl, letting the distinctive glisten of post-metal guitars lead the way, but these moments are too slow and awkwardly placed, being forced into the middle of a track and dismantling the momentum A Flock Named Murder had gained during the black and death metal sections. Regrettably, while all the instruments sound tight, the production is rather loud, leading to a loss of any dynamic respite from the heavier sections, even when calmed down to a buildup. 

When not sluggishly pushing through post- build ups or reverb-laden conclusions, A Flock Named Murder often shine bright, particularly with their fiery, Mare Cognitum-inspired bursts of tremolo picking. Guitarist Ryan Mueller performs solid death metal riffs, further cementing that Incendiary Sanctum should have remained at a faster speed. And the highlights of the album are consistently Mueller’s solos—particularly those in “Garden of Embers” and “To Drown in Obsidian Tides.” The former reprises a main melody from earlier in the track, contributing to a sense of thoughtfulness to the songwriting that large swaths of the album don’t have due to some disorderly transitions between disparate styles. A Flock Named Murder tried their damndest to tie everything together and just put too much weight on the bar. 

As is the case with many young bands, in trying to defy easy categorization with their mix of styles, A Flock Named Murder sacrificed Incendiary Sanctum’s sense of cohesion. With focused songwriting and an emphasis on their strong atmospheric black metal and guitar parts, a follow-up could drastically improve upon these foundations. And I do think shifting their ambitions from being “a rumination on humanity and those we’ve lost” to “writing a good album” would be beneficial.

Recommended tracks: To Drown in Obsidian Tides
You may also like: Inter Arma, Mizmor, Black Lava, Felgrave
Final verdict: 5/10

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

Label: Hypaethral Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

A Flock Named Murder is:
Ryan Mueller – Guitars, Voice
Mike Wandy – Bass, Voice
Cam Mueller – Drums, Lyrics

The post Review: A Flock Named Murder – Incendiary Sanctum appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Painting by Ferdinand Knab
Logo by Ghorn
Layout by Foudre Noire

Style: Hellenic Black Metal, Melodic Black Metal, Heavy Metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Rotting Christ, Necromantia, Varathron
Release date: 17 April 2025

Over the past decade or so, Phil Tougas has become a household name within the broader underground metal scene, lending his myriad of talents to groups across a broad spectrum of styles. Chthe’ilist proved Tougas’ songwriting aptitude; Atramentus and Worm proved his ability to summon compelling atmosphere; and First Fragment launched him handily into the pantheon of extreme shredders. One would think having your nimble fingers stuck in so many pots would scarcely leave time for excursions, yet here we are. Tougas’ latest labor of love appears in the form of Zeicrydeus, in which our multifaceted shredder combines all of his previously mentioned talents with a detour into the realm of Hellenic black metal, though with a few trademark Tougas Twists.

Zeicrydeus is a solo project, with Tougas handling the manifold duties of four string lead bass, vocals, multi-timbral synthesizer, six string guitars, timpani, and drum programming. There are session live drums credited to Chakral (Ascended Dead, VoidCeremony), though I’m not exactly certain where they begin and the programmed drums end. Regardless, La Grande Heresie is a bold (and brash) statement of Tougas’ love for the Hellenic black metal scene, drawing direct inspiration from early Rotting Christ, Necromantia, and Varathron, and infusing this sound with a roaring heavy metal spirit. “Ten Thousand Spears Atop The Bleeding Mountains” fittingly kicks things off with a lyrical homage to Running Wild’s Under Jolly Roger, barreling into an instantly recognizable triumphant Tougas riff and showcasing our first Tougas Twist: a metric shitload of pinch harmonics intertwined right in the middle of fearsome finger acrobatics. Once the high-octane display has run its course, we are introduced to the secondary style that comprises La Grande Heresie: swaggering Manowar-esque USPM riff-craft. The combination of melody driven black metal and scrappy DIY heavy metal aesthetic works wonderfully as a foundational sound whereby Tougas springboards his idiosyncratic stylings.

The second Tougas Twist is the dramatic Summoning-esque atmosphere that is woven into the core of La Grande Heresie. The earlier mentioned multi-timbral synthesizer is put to near constant use, enveloping the sound in an occult haze. Tougas’ melodic phrases coil around themselves, slightly overstaying their welcome on occasion, though theatrical timpani hits help the experience along by accentuating the rhythmic flow like landmarks for the wandering melophile. Rattling chains and the sharpening of blades can be heard periodically accompanying particularly dramatic moments, as if Tougas is quite literally leading a triumphant charge into battle, warhorn replaced by shredding bass solo. Tougas’ vocal performance is similarly arcane, leaning mostly towards a midrange black metal snarl, but occasionally branching out into grunts, yells, and an odd purring technique that is as menacing as it is captivating. The esoteric atmosphere is constantly at odds with the modern technique of Tougas’ playing, one constantly overtaking the other, mirroring the rise and fall of empires. 

As if the varied instrumentation, intense performances, and devouring atmosphere wasn’t already enough to set Zeicrydeus apart, the biggest and best Tougas Twist has been saved for last: formally titled bass solos. La Grande Heresie is unique in that it features bass solos in the stead of guitar solos, and even more unique in that these solos are quite literally christened. From “THE FOUR PRONGED SERPENT PHALANX” featured on “Ten Thousand Spears Atop The Bleeding Mountains” to “HÉRÉSIE TOTALE” and “LA FLAMME DES REBELLES” from “Sous L’Ombre Éternelle Des Vestiges D’Heghemnon”, Tougas’ dedication to crafting a dramatic and entertaining experience seeps all the way into meta territory. Lyrically, the storytelling expands on lore already told in other Tougas projects (Chthe’ilist, Atramentus), adding even further to the meta narrative. La Grande Heresie benefits greatly from Tougas’ imaginative presentation and immense bass talent, though an argument could be made that the everpresent dexterousness becomes slightly masturbatory after a while. The final climax of penultimate track “Godsteel (Blood of the Sun)” allows itself one final indulgence, breaking La Grande Heresie’s own rule and reveling in an epic three-part dueling guitar and bass solo, titled “AIR” and “WATER”, “FIRE” and “ICE”, and “EARTH” and “SKY”. Truly, Tougas’ vision and conceit pays off in satisfying conclusion during this battle, and the listener is left with only howling winds and the reflective melody of the self-titled closing interlude with which to climb down from La Grande Heresie’s peak.

I’ll be the first to admit that Hellenic black metal is a style that has not historically resonated with my own personal tastes outside of a couple of heavy hitters (Macabre Omen, Varathron), so it is always a welcome surprise when an album comes along to challenge my bias. Compositionally, La Grande Heresie is a personally authentic take on the connection between the heavy metal and Hellenic black metal scenes, and while each Tougas Twist is an emotive addition to these styles, they can also become slightly distracting, never quite allowing the listener to fully immerse themselves within the archaic spirit of either genre. Even after a dozen or so listens, I’m still not sure whether I enjoy La Grande Heresie as a Hellenic black metal album proper or, rather, as just another Tougas offering. Nevertheless, Zeicrydeus certainly succeeds in setting itself apart within a long-standing scene, and Tougas’ brash (and bold) flair solidifies La Grande Heresie as a memorable standout of 2025.

Recommended tracks: Ten Thousand Spears Atop The Bleeding Mountains, Godsteel (Blood of the Third Son)
You may also like: First Fragment, Malokarpatan, Chthe’ilist, Thy Darkened Shade
Final verdict: 7.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Metal-Archives

Label: Productions TSO – The Stygian Oath – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Zeicrydeus is:
– Phillipe Tougas (vocals, multi-timbral synthesizer, four string lead bass, six string guitars, timpani, drum programming)
With guests:
– Chakral – Live session drums

The post Review: Zeicrydeus – La Grande Heresie appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Atmospheric sludge metal, avant-garde metal, poetry (Spoken word, harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Isis, Neurosis, Chat Pile, Thou, Mizmor
Country: Canada / Maryland, United States
Release date: 25 April 2025

‘We didn’t demand more from a democracy of monsters.’

The grimy post-apocalyptic imagery conjured by post-rock and avant-garde artists like Godspeed You! Black Emperor and Ashenspire are sharp critiques of the hostile world crafted by modern society. Canadian sludge metallers Sumac explored similar themes and soundscapes on their 2024 opus, The Healer, but with a balmy twist: Aaron Turner and co. find beauty and catharsis among the aftermath, exploring healing as a non-linear process in a series of cacophonous, improvised sludge metal pieces. On their latest release, The Film, Sumac join forces with industrial hip-hop artist Moor Mother, crunching the scope of The Healer’s pieces down to relatively bite-sized movements and giving them structure through spoken word. How does The Film play out?

The atonal warbling of Sumac’s guitars adorn the crooked canvas of “Scene 1”. Seas of crumbling gray buildings stretch beyond the horizon, and the mind desperately claws for tonality and rhythm among the scraping dissonance of Aaron Turner’s guitarwork. Figures and forms almost coalesce in the coarse and mangled chords; by design, they’re just a bit too out of reach to fully form into a cogent shape. The listener is left to sit in anxious ambiguity as a consequence. Then, a voice materializes from the rubble, a rudder to a vessel with no form. First distorted, then yanked into clarity, it calls out:

‘I want my breath back.’

Throughout “Scene 1”, Moor Mother sneers in the face of an invasive hegemony through spoken word poetry, unearthing a siren call against the Colonialist tendrils that push into the scree’s every crevice. We’re told over and over that the kudzu has died, but she insists that anyone with a keen eye can see how its roots continue to spread and how its vines choke out the grove’s most vulnerable.

‘That’s why we don’t believe. We don’t believe. We don’t believe. We. Don’t. Believe. WE—DON’T—BELIEVE.’

Among the swirling cataclysm laid down by Sumac, Moor Mother exudes both a razor-sharp focus in spoken-word verses and an assertive bluntness in her punctuated litany. By way of hypnagogic paranoia in “Scene 2: The Run”, war-torn landscapes in “Scene 5: Breathing Fire”, and frustrated inner conflict in “Camera”, Moor Mother anchors The Film, cleverly intertwining her poetry with amorphous and wailing instrumentation. Calls of ‘So long they’ve been hating, waiting, debating how to keep you enslaved / Better lose your mind, lose your mind, lose your mind, lose your mind / Run away, better lose your mind / Hurt off, dust off, hate off, change off, devil off / Better run and lose your mind’ on “Scene 4” exemplify The Film’s percussive lambasts, branding themselves onto the surface of your mind with each repetition and leaving behind no ambiguity in her snarling conviction.

Though some moments come across a bit referential for my tastes (e.g., a reference to the Whip and Nae Nae on “Scene 3”, and a callout to Blue’s Clues on “Scene 5: Breathing Fire”), Moor Mother’s approach is overwhelmingly effective as a whole. The sentiments on “Camera”, for example, are masterfully executed, cleaved in two as tension is forged between opposing forces. On one hand, her lyricism portrays a strong desire to be cognizant of injustices and engage in activism against them; on the other, a pang to ‘stick one’s head in the sand’ emerges, as the deluge of nightmares constantly surfaced is simply too much for a single person to bear. The effect is heightened when Moor Mother’s voice takes on an unearthly form, malleated into a down-pitched, ominous panopticon:

‘Let the camera do the talking. Don’t look away. Don’t look away. Don’t. Look. Away. Let the camera do the talking. Get away, get away, get away, get away, get away, get away.’

Moments of clarity and conventional song structure occasionally bubble to The Film’s surface. “The Truth is Out There” utilizes consonance and pleasant textures, acting as a small palate cleanser before The Film’s mammoth closer. Even in its more melodic passages, though, Sumac opt to use oblique, eccentric chord choices to keep the listener from getting too comfortable in their sense of levity. “Scene 3” features a relatively standard post-metal song structure, slowly building into a massive apex and crushing the listener under pounding drumwork and frantic reiteration of ‘In the way of our dreams…’ by its end.

“Scene 2: The Run”, in contrast, teeters between the more constructed and the more nebulous: the thrumming, pulsating bass across its runtime acts as an oscillating searchlight, keeping its sparse soundscape grounded. Led by Moor Mother’s poetry, one has a brief window to dive between concrete crags and reach shelter between the rumbling flashes. Intensity ebbs and flows, exploring dissonant tremolos and weighty dirges but each time returning to the searchlight’s bassy thrum. The track’s closing moments unveil a climax of explosive drum grooves, hypnotic, swirling guitar chords, and ghoulish howls. The crumbled remains coalesce into a tumbling, horrific golem, shattering off pieces of itself as it thrashes about.

‘Memories. Looping. Dead. Sky is. Falling. Falling. Blood. Red. Blood. Blood. Red. Blood.’

“Scene 5: Breathing Fire” is a consummation of The Film’s elements, a Chekhov’s Arsenal of ideas and techniques introduced earlier in its runtime. Anchored by Moor Mother’s poetry, the track melts and morphs between stillness and intensity, smoothness and texture, consonance and dissonance; its introductory moments beget premonition of something more chaotic, more violent, and more powerful than anything encountered up to this point.

‘War breath always breathes—fire. Time’s in neglect, and I’ll see you on the other side. I’ll see you on the other side.’

The instrumentals bear a laserlike focus: whereas before the rhythms lumbered in dissonant chaos, they now punch the back of your head with militaristic precision.

‘I need a moment. I need a moment. Sorting through snakes and serpents. I need an omen.’

The patterns aren’t quite discernible at first glance, using basic rhythmic building blocks in spectacularly odd meter. Tension builds around drums that congeal through kinetic cymbal splashes.

‘We’re in the boxing rings and fighting for our lives. Fighting for our lives. FIGHTING. FOR. OUR. LIVES.’

An instrumental bomb drops. Sumac settle in to a bulldozing groove while Moor Mother summons an apocalyptic fury, snarling overtop magnitude ten forces.

‘I PRAY THE TIDES GO. I PRAY THE TIDES GO. I PRAY THE TIDES GO THE WAY OF THE WOLVES. THE WAY OF THE WOLVES. AND OUT COME THE WOLVES. AND OUT COME THE WOLVES. TAKE WARNING. TAKE WARNING. TAKE CAUTION, TAKE. OFF. RUNNING. TAKE OFF RUNNING. TAKE OFF RUNNING. TAKE—OFF—’

The gravity of the instrumentals outmatches their stability, and “Scene 5” begins to deconstruct. A familiar chaos creeps back in as guitars melt into buzzing warbles and the frantic jingling of chimes fill every inch of negative space. A wailing, trembling guitar solo attempts to push back against the bubbling waves of bass, but the exertion of the two is too much, and the entire piece collapses. Little is left other than guitar scrapes, squeaks, and cresting cymbal washes.

‘Basic instructions before leaving Earth. Basic instructions before leaving Earth…’

For the first time during The Film, an unabashedly tranquil space is broached. Guitars amble around plaintive chords, and drums gently lilt along. The final stretch of “Scene 5” exudes catharsis, releasing a tension that’s been building since the record’s first moments and giving the listener space to rest and reflect.

‘I. Want. My. Change. But what do we return to? But what do we return to? What do we return to?’

In The Film’s calm aftermath, only pebbles and ash remain; in this dust is the space for something new to grow. The Film is at the same time heartbreakingly concrete and nightmarishly surrealist, juxtaposing dissonant sludgy improvisation against a spellbinding voice that confidently leads the traveler through a forsaken barrens. Despite a spate of horrific injustices and efforts from every corner to oppress, intimidate, and silence marginalized groups, we must continue to strike away at what makes us human, and at the same time fight to make the world something more than a place not designed for us.

Recommended tracks: Scene 5: Breathing Fire, Camera, Scene 2: The Run
You may also like: BÅKÜ, Ashenspire, Five the Hierophant, Lathe
Final verdict: 9/10

Related links (Sumac): Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram | Metal-Archives
Related links (Moor Mother): Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label – Thrill Jockey Records: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Sumac is:
– Aaron Turner (guitars, vocals)
– Nick Yacyshyn (drums, percussion, synths)
– Brian Cook (bass)
Moor Mother is:
– Camae Ayewa (vocals, synths)
With guests:
– Candice Hoyes (vocals, track 3)
– Kyle Kidd (vocals, track 4)
– Sovei (vocals, track 5)

The post Review: Sumac, Moor Mother – The Film appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: heavy progressive rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Soen (pre-Lotus), Riverside, Wheel (the Finnish one)
Country: Canada / International
Release date: 26 March 2025

Making the leap in format from EP to LP is such a common pattern among the first releases of fledgling bands that it would almost feel unusual to see an artist take a different tack. Derev join so many of their peers leaving the proverbial nest with Troubled Mind, finally paying off the obvious potential talent shown by their slightly rough but still artistically compelling debut EP Leap of Faith. Derev bring a few influences to the table, combining some elements of heavy prog rock (think Riverside) with equal parts of dark alternative metal. Although I wouldn’t go so far as to compare Derev to Tool, the most direct analogy would still be to two other Tool-alikes: Soen and Wheel (no, not the epic doom metal band, the other one). At their most subtle, Derev perform with all the gravitas of Soen at their peak (it’s all been downhill since Lykaia, fight me), but the deep, dark tone full of bass and low vocals is just as reminiscent of the alt-metal edge from Wheel’s Resident Human.

My exploration of Troubled Mind followed the opposite progression as my time with Leap of Faith—where my appreciation of the EP has grown with the benefit of more time to digest Derev’s style and complexities, this new LP comes front-loaded with positive first impressions. The instrumental bridge starting at about the halfway mark of opener “Buried Voice” provides the first big highlight and demonstrates Derev’s significant strides forward in the maturity of their songwriting and recording since Leap of Faith. Their poised and careful composition already cultivates the same rich, clear tone found in the best parts of their EP, and Troubled Mind’s extra production polish ensures that every sweet or savory moment delivers its full flavor. The complex time signatures found on tracks like “Tides of Time” and “Room 9” foster a feeling of mystery and instability, and clever usage of shifting time signatures and interlocking polyrhythms thematically mimics the capricious visions of an insecure consciousness. The band’s other great asset is Adel Saflou’s strong yet luscious voice, which imparts emotion into the words he sings better than many genre veterans (looking at you, LaBrie) in part due to his great capacity for varying the intensity and the emotional tone of his voice. His performance is also aided by the lyrics themselves, which tackle poignant, impactful subjects like self-loathing, intrusive thoughts, and grief for a lost loved one.

Derev don’t hesitate to showcase instrumental performances either, as is particularly evident from the impressively intricate all-instrumental “Paracusia,” but weighty bass flourishes and rich melodic soundscapes of guitar and keyboard abound throughout Troubled Mind. The early instrumental interlude “Crawl Space” also sets itself apart, building a lovely cinematic atmosphere with synthesized strings and harp despite its short runtime. Even the drums get plenty of time in the sun, featuring several less common percussion instruments (such as the Middle Eastern darbuka which opens “Darker Self”) while weaving steady yet technical backing rhythms, a solid background that casts Derev’s cleverness into even sharper relief. Unfortunately, all their compositional trickery and self-evident talent isn’t always enough to elevate the listening experience of Troubled Mind. Outside of certain tracks like the aforementioned “Paracusia,” most parts of the album lack that elusive spark which would allow Derev to ignite their quality kindling into a bonfire, and as a result those parts remain pleasant at a surface level but unremarkable on deeper inspection.

Similarly, the lyrical themes can feel a little one-note. Although each song tackles a different facet of mental turmoil, they all take more or less the same approach in expressing their concepts, with a rich and malty melancholy mood accompanied by lyrics which dive into the inner struggles of whatever mental malady serves as the present topic, both of which would sound right at home in one of Riverside’s early releases. That said, the emotional closing track “Trace Within” stands out, flawlessly intertwining concept and execution with its lyrical structure and judicious use of a guest vocalist (whose name I unfortunately can’t find listed anywhere) to contrast Saflou’s dark vocal tone. Aside from the introductory verse sung by Saflou alone, each verse repeats once while adding or removing one of the two singers. First the guest sings the verse alone, then the reprise and the next verse continue as a duet, and finally Saflou closes out the album singing three lonely lines by himself—“To ease the pain / I call your name / Come back again.” The expression of enduring grief is palpable, each singer clinging to their few moments together and mourning their separation when forced apart.

In their progression from Leap of Faith to Troubled Mind, Derev have made admirable advances musically, but the specter of their inconsistent execution still looms in the background. Although never poor in quality, Troubled Mind’s later sections still betray the implied promise made by the early greatness of “Buried Voice.” The core elements remain the same throughout, painting metaphorical scenes of mental distress with precise instrumental tone and evocative lyrical description, but Derev struggle to replicate the impact of the opening track, with few, fleeting exceptions. The composition is clever, the performances talented, the lyrics meaningful and emotional, but without more demonstration of those transcendent moments the band is clearly capable of, it just isn’t enough to blow my mind.

Recommended tracks: Buried Voice, Room 9, Paracusia, Darker Self, Trace Within
You may also like: Diagonal Path, Inhalo, Traverser, Chaos Divine
Final verdict: 7/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Official Website | YouTube | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Independent

Derev is:
– Adel Saflou (vocals)
– Armando Bablanian (guitars)
– Michel Karakach (drums)
– Stan Komarovsky (bass)
– Ran Zehavi (keyboards)

The post Review: Derev – Troubled Mind appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Art by Erskine Designs

Style: Progressive metal, death metal, black metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Ne Obliviscaris, Opeth, Insomnium, the usual suspects of prog death
Country: Canada
Release date: 28 March, 2025

To have flaws is to be human. The pursuit of a perfect art is fruitless and always ends in frustration (see Wintersun). Every one of my favorite pieces of art has flaws, whether it be written, recorded, or programmed, and sometimes, especially in the case of the masterwork of cinema that is Kung Pow! Enter The Fist, its flaws elevate. The pursuit of perfection brought on by automation and the proliferation of AI is a futile one that will end with safe, squeaky clean art. No risk means no reward, after all, and starting a progressive death metal band amidst a million others is for sure a risk in and of itself. You either need to be an established name or work your ass off, honing your craft every step of the way to rise above the Bandcamp wastes. Or, you could just be picked up by a blog run by weirdos.

Symbiotic Growth are still children in this field. Their first full length, released in 2020, showcased a trio whose game placed an emphasis on atmosphere. The self-titled LP sounds like its album cover. Ethereal in nature, murky riffs and atmospherics,  a strange, slightly muffled production choice that I can only chalk up to inexperience. However, it showcases a trio with a fair share of talent and ambition, creating sprawling songs that only overstay their welcome by a minute or so. Despite the slightly ridiculous song lengths on their self-titled, it’s a fairly breezy, forty-minute experience. A neat and concise package, serving as their way of elbowing competitors out of the way. But now, five years later, they’ve decided to go wild with it. Beyond the Sleepless Aether exceeds an hour in length, but will Symbiotic Growth crumble under that pressure? 

The good news for Symbiotic Growth is that, mostly, they succeed. Courtesy of producer Tom MacLean (ex-Haken), Beyond sounds much better than its predecessor. The guitars sound fuller and the ever-prominent bass of Aaron Barriault sits nicely in the mix, popping out when it feels the need. The drums sound far less fake and triggered than most prog-death but unfortunately tend to get lost in the mix beneath the layers of guitar when things start getting crazy. That being said, ‘Of Painted Skies and Dancing Lights’ paints a lovely sonic palette in the song’s latter half, with the band building on one central progression, adding some blast beats and noodly keyboards.  

Like their undoubted inspirations Opeth and Ne Obliviscaris, Symbiotic Growth structure most of their songs around central progressions, and reprise them when needed. While this helps ground the record, it also means most songs tend to drag on a bit more than they should. The riff that begins ‘Spires of The Boundless Sunset’ stays present for the first minute and a half of the song, and it’s just too simplistic to justify without a changeup. Thankfully, the band takes a note from Tómarúm’s book and begin a black metal-styled ascent soon after, complete with audible bass whines and clean vocals. The record needs more of these changeups, which are used too sparingly. When the same progression comes back after a minute of electronic buildup, I instead wished for a different section to add some variety. Repurposing sections can feel rewarding, especially in epics such as these, but they take up most songs on the album. ‘Painted Skies’ makes sure that riff stays in your head five of its seven-minute runtime, and 

Ironically, my complaints are subverted in the longer songs. ‘The Architects of Annihilation’ shows the band weave through Citadel-era NeO arpeggios and put their own spin on a nasty, Decapitated-like triplet riff. Closer ‘Trading Thoughts for Sleep’ is a welcome contrast, a doomy crawl toward the record’s finish line, sporting an absolutely wicked solo near the end. The song itself feels like the epic journey straight from the minds of the band members, exuding confidence in not only their compositional skills, but a clear vision of what they want a song to sound like. When the sections are reprised, they have enough changeups to make it feel interesting. Though, to detract, the clean vocals are not the greatest, especially on ‘Architects’. I’m unsure which vocalist is on cleans duty, but it sometimes feels like he is limited by trying to go higher than he needs to. His low register feels throaty and flat already, but the higher-ish notes come across as strained and weak, leading to some of the more triumphant moments falling flat.

Beyond the Sleepless Aether is a flawed record, and I’m sure even the band themselves are privy to admit it. Glimmers of brilliance, particularly in the epics and performances, shine through across the record, untouched by occasional patches of off cleans and songs that stick to their guns a little too tightly. As a result, Symbiotic Growth have made a fine record, and one that shows an incredible amount of maturity and growth from their debut. In just a few years, they’ve leveled themselves up a considerable amount, and perhaps the symbiotic relationship between this reviewer and these musicians will help their growth into something special. 

Recommended tracks: The Architects of Annihilation, Trading Thoughts for Sleep
You may also like: Tómarúm , Kardashev, Dessiderium
Final verdict: : 6/10

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

Label: Independent

Symbiotic Growth is:
– Dan Favot (drums)
– Aaron Barriault (guitars, bass.,vocals)
– Devin “Azerate” McQueen (guitars)

The post Review: Symbiotic Growth – Beyond the Sleepless Aether appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Album art by Adam Burke

Style: Power metal, progressive metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Falconer, Blind Guardian, Seven Spires, Fellowship
Country: Canada
Release date: 28 March 2025

Few things are more taxing on a band’s fanbase than having their new album consigned to development hell. Whether from perfectionism, conflicting artistic visions, or life simply getting in the way, new material can be left in limbo for a decade or longer with precious little to satiate listeners in the meantime. Tool used to be the poster child for such procrastination in the prog community, then Wintersun, but in a post-Time II world, artists such as Symphony X and Agent Fresco continue the proud tradition of their latest albums approaching their ten-year anniversary with no concrete news of a follow-up in sight. In a similar vein, Canadian underground prog-power act Viathyn spent the years after their well-regarded 2014 work Cynosure in an uneasy state of semi-hiatus, assuring fans that they weren’t done yet and that a third album would eventually come, but otherwise largely silent. Eventually, however, after putting out a couple albums with the now-disbanded Ravenous, guitarist Jake Wright began to feel that the material he had written for said third album was too personal for the band and, with drummer Dave Crnkovic in tow, released it under the name of a new, ocean-themed project: Panthalassan. Now fully at the helm of this voyage, can Wright successfully sail into the sunset, or is his ship doomed to run ashore in the shallows?

Thankfully, From the Shallows of the Mantle proves itself to be a potent slab of prog-power from front to back, due in large part to Wright’s considerable finesse with the six-string. Even if I didn’t know beforehand that this was a guitarist’s solo venture, the heart-racingly fleet riffs, tuneful leads, and intricate solos that fill every nook and cranny of the album would give me a good hint. And yet, despite the abundant virtuosity on display, it never feels as though Wright is indulging in excessive wankery or playing notes for notes’ sake. True, the songs are uniformly lengthy, averaging around seven minutes apiece, but those minutes are filled with enough musical variety and strikingly memorable melodies to justify their runtime and then some. Song structures in particular often deviate from standard verse-chorus fare in an effort to take the listener on a sweeping journey, with tracks like “Foundation to Firmament” and epic closer “Embers on Our Shore” proving particularly breathtaking in their scope and diversity, easily justifying the “progressive” part of their genre label.

That said, the style of prog-power that Panthalassan provides leans primarily towards the “power” side of things, eschewing the thrashy influences and folkish tinges of Viathyn in favor of soaring, tuneful choruses and more prominent symphonic orchestration, courtesy of Daniel Carpenter (Imperial Age). The end result is a stirring, heroic, yet undeniably melancholic soundtrack to an oceanic voyage where our protagonist must confront the raging squalls both without and within; think Emerald Seas-era Seven Spires minus the harsh vocals, or perhaps a significantly less saccharine version of Fellowship. It is, in a word, kickass, and there were numerous moments where all my fancy words failed me and I was left with nothing to say but “Dude… this fucking rules.” Take, for instance, the coda to “Driftwood Reverie”, where Wright abruptly kicks the tempo up a few notches with a rapid-fire riff backed only by Crnkovic’s minimalistic yet urgent quarter note kick drums that builds into a full minute and a half of deliriously speedy instrumental fireworks. Or the stately guitar leads in the bridge of “Lowstand Leviathans”, or the delightfully unexpected muted trumpet in “Foundation to Firmament”, or the clean guitar and bass interplay in the midsection of “Embers on Our Shore”, or… you get the picture. Wright can craft an instrumental interlude with the absolute best of them, and his compositional chops go well beyond his admittedly incredible ability to Play Guitar Fast.

Everything I’ve said so far would indicate that From the Shallows of the Mantle would be a clear contender for the best power metal album of 2025, and while it does a lot of things extremely well, there is an elephant in the room that keen-eyed readers might have already noticed me skirting around up to this point: the vocals. Perhaps out of the same sense of personal attachment that led to him separating this material from Viathyn in the first place, Wright handles all vocals himself, and all I can say is… he sure gave it his best shot. Now, to be fair, he’s not terrible; he can carry a tune well enough, and his tone, particularly in his lower register, is decent. But he’s just… not that good, either. You know how even the most masterfully written lines can sound goofy if delivered by a wooden actor? Well, Jake Wright is a wooden singer, and his vocal deficiencies kneecap the emotional resonance of an album that’s clearly meant to be deeply personal. His baritone range is a nice change of pace for the genre, and seems to be aiming for a similar feel to Mathias Blad of the late Falconer, but fails to remotely live up to Blad’s smooth tone and expressive theatricality. Sometimes the hook writing is killer enough that the chorus shines despite some merely functional singing (“By Shank’s Mare”), but other times Wright’s amateurish delivery weakens otherwise excellent melodies (“Worth My Salt”), and it’s frustrating.

I want to say that with the right singer, this album could be a solid 8.5 or even 9/10 with enough spins, but given how deeply the material here is tied to its creator as a human being, it’s hard to say who “the right singer” even would be, beyond “an alternate universe version of Jake Wright except he’s a better vocalist”. These lyrics, for all their nautical imagery, aren’t really about a sea voyage, but are rather a powerfully emotional, semi-metaphorical ode to the inner struggles of one man. Barring the occasional clunky rhyme, the words here are striking, touching on fear of standing up for one’s self (“Worth My Salt”), imposter syndrome (“Clandestine Traveler”), and feelings of aimlessness (“Driftwood Reverie”). There’s even an oceanic love song of sorts in the form of “Abalone”, the closest thing here to a ballad, whose tale of falling under a siren’s spell feels equal parts unsettling and romantic. Would this soul-baring effect be lost by using the voice of another, no matter how technically superior of a singer they may be? I can see arguments either way.

Though this one issue may hold back Panthalassan from true greatness, make no mistake: From the Shallows of the Mantle is a very strong debut, and a downright masterclass in composition and instrumental performance. Wright has expressed interest in incorporating more instruments and a wider variety of genre palettes on future work, and after what he’s accomplished here, I’m excited to see what’s next. For now, though, this album still comes recommended for anyone interested in a gripping, heartfelt power metal journey through seas, storms, and self-doubt, all told in an authentic, if somewhat flawed, voice. Or if you just want to hear a guy play guitar really well for an hour, that works too.

Recommended tracks: Driftwood Reverie, Foundation to Firmament, By Shank’s Mare
You may also like: Viathyn, Sunburst, Haishen
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Panthalassan is:
– Jake Wright (guitars, bass, vocals)

With:
Dave Crnković (drums)
Daniel Carpenter (orchestration, piano)

The post Review: Panthalassan – From the Shallows of the Mantle appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by Noirs Dessins

Style: post-black metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Alcest, Deafheaven, An Autumn for Crippled Children, Violet Cold
Country: Canada
Release date: 08 February 2025

It really is strange to write reviews in this blog about bands like Unreqvited. They definitely have enough of a fan base that you’d think anyone into the band’s genre would know about them, but they’re also tiny in comparison to prog/black metal giants that need no introduction here. How do you begin this? Do I have to give you the whole explanation as to what they do and what they’re good at? Do I just jump to talking about the main changes to their sound and reviewing the meat of the album? I believe the name must at least ring a bell if you enjoy post-black and have ever actively searched for more bands past the Alcest/Deafheaven duo. But, for the uninitiated…

Unreqvited have been a mainstay in the post-black metal scene for the better part of a decade now. Known for their ability to create larger than life soundscapes that capture a simultaneous co-existence between beauty and agony, their instrumental approach to the genre has always had them leaning closer to the post in post-black. They’ve been incredibly prolific as well, with nine LPs in nine years, all having something that differentiated them from one another. Whether it’s the cinematic approach on Mosaic I, the orchestral elements in Empathica, or the more blackgaze-y influenced sound in Beautiful Ghosts, you know that when they release a new album, you’re bound to hear some changes in their sound. A Pathway to the Moon was released after the longest break between albums in the band’s existence, and it offers perhaps the band’s biggest change yet: Vocals! 

The impact of this change is felt immediately in the first minutes of Pathway; Instead of what would normally be a slow, dramatic instrumental build-up to set the scene, a minimal backing track supports the heavenly voice of William Melsness, who takes centre stage to create a heavenly atmosphere in a short overture. After the serene, ethereal opening, “The Antimatter’’ shatters that tranquility pulling the listener into a stark, near void-like soundscape. This trope really is about as post-black 101 as it gets, but the sharp contrast between both styles is something that wasn’t usually present in Unreqvited’s previous releases. Whereas previous works would see both the styles of black metal and post-rock co-existing, “The Antimatter’’ has these completely different ideas actively fighting each other. The first black metal chops leave a big impression on the listener; they come right out of the gate by displaying a sound so theatrical and dramatic that it may just get confused for a Xanthochroid song. Orchestral touches are spread all around the album in general, and they really add an extra layer of freshness to this release’s heaviest moments. Oh right, the tracks now have vocals, and I am a big fan of the harshes present as well! They are way grimmer than what I’ve come to expect in post-black metal, and their presence really adds to Pathway’s void-like soundscapes. 

I sadly have less positive things to say about the clean vocals. They’re serviceable by all means but fail to deliver that final kick to release all the tension that was built up during the harsher sections. Cleans in this genre can bring a lot of dynamism to the table, but here they’re mostly flat choruses with little to no memorable melodies. These cleans also expose one of my pet peeves with this album; its production. Whilst there’s nothing that sounds bad, it is simply far too clean and generic. I am far from a black metal purist, but previous Unreqvited releases had found that perfect middle point between clean instrumentals while also having a bit of rawness to it, especially to enhance the moments of absolute tension. And this flaw in its production is most obvious when the clean vocals are meant to express any type of strong emotion and fail to deliver. I will however admit that this production style fits Pathway’s lead single “The Starforger” quite well. A poppy, heavenly song with very serviceable choruses which leave a lasting memorable impression; it certainly works far better in a polished atmosphere where the clean vocals can deliver a catchy melody on top of very simple moody guitar licks. 

I know most of my feedback has been about the first half of this album and the reason is because the second half really doesn’t have a lot of noteworthy things to mention. The two distinct styles initially settle for a pleasant middle point in “Void Essence / Frozen Tears”, with the clean sections being especially memorable. However, the production still takes something away from the harsher melodies, and the track starts a very slow approach towards ending this journey. Whilst never getting close to being bad, the dipping point in the final three songs is felt, as every time I finished this album I was left with very little to say about this closing trio. One repeats the typical post-black 101 formula we’ve mentioned, only far slower and incredibly focused on its pop aspect; one’s a one minute interlude; and to close things off we get a very slow, albeit sonically pleasant closing track. “Departure: Everlasting Dream” does thrive with beautiful orchestral elements that give the feeling of ending a difficult journey and seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, but it would’ve served the album better had it not felt like we were already out of that tunnel fifteen minutes ago. 

All in all, A Pathway to the Moon delivers a pretty listening experience that’s too front-heavy to really strike a chord with me. The addition of vocals is a success, but Unreqvited still need to learn how to structure an album around them, as the flow of A Pathway to the Moon leaves a bit to be desired.   

Recommended tracks: The Anitmatter, The Starforger
You may also like: Nishaiar, Skyforest, Mare Cognitum, Vestige
Final verdict: 6.5/10

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

Label: Prophecy Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Unreqvited in question is:
– William Melsness (all instruments)

The post Review: Unreqvited – A Pathway to the Moon appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal (mixed vocals)
FFO: Caligula’s Horse, Between the Buried and Me, Haken
Country: Canada/Sweden
Release date: 7 March 2025

You know the saying: it takes a village to raise a twenty-minute progressive metal Extended Play. Wait… that’s not the saying? Montreal/Stockholm-based Voidchaser could have fooled me with their latest release, Trust, which sees the band joined by a host of featured artists from near and far in a three-track extravaganza.

With so many contributors on Trust—at least one musician for each minute of music on the EP—it’s no small feat for Voidchaser to speak clearly with their own voice, since they have released but a scant few hours of music. Nonetheless, the band does stay true to the sound they pioneered on their 2024 debut album, Solace. In particular, there is a prevailingly upbeat, driving energy to Voidchaser’s sound. Even in the slower and more understated moments, the mood is never languid or melancholic. Of course, the recipe book for Trust contains pages from each of the featured artists: fellow Canadians Universe Effects¹ and The Anchoret, as well as Caligula’s Horse’s Jim Grey. Voidchaser also sprinkles and dashes in influences from greats like Between the Buried and Me, Haken, and Dream Theater, in quantities light enough to avoid sounding derivative.

The lengthy personnel list sometimes makes it hard to form a panoptic assessment of the musical performances of each contributor. I’m not sure who deserves credit for the zingy, vivid keyboard moments throughout “Time”, including the solo at 5:30. Regardless, the keys form a solid building block in the sound that Voidchaser is cultivating, evocative of BtBaM and even Seventh Wonder at times. On the other hand, this division of musical labour does allow the band to play to their strengths. I noted on Voidchaser’s releases from last year that vocalist Chad Bernatchez is more at home growling than singing; here, he leaves the majority of clean vocal duties to guests. The best of these vocal performances comes from Jim Grey in the breathless, pounding closing track “Trust”. Though he’s relegated to the final two minutes of the EP, his unmistakable vocal stylings compliment the incisive growls from the first half of the song; these take a backseat when Grey enters the fray. Together, they drive the track, and the EP as whole, across the finish line with exuberant energy that distills the best of what Trust has on offer.

The EP is billed as an “epilogue” to 2024’s Solace, picking up on the previous album’s plot: our protagonist is drifting through space with depleting oxygen tanks, reflecting on his life… and my eyes are already glazing over. Overwrought sci-fi concepts are a dime a dozen in progressive metal, and it takes a lot more than floating around in space to get me going. Fortunately, on Trust, Voidchaser don’t lean too hard on trope-y lyrics or spoken word. Outside of a moment near the end of the first track, there’s no overt talk of spacesuits or interstellar navigation. Instead, the band explores broader emotional themes that can be interpolated into the galactic setting without being too on-the-nose for listeners who prefer to let the music speak for itself.

Trust packs a lot into its short runtime: while I would rather see a band fit an hour’s worth of ideas into twenty minutes than the other way around, the EP is sometimes lacking space to breathe, notably on middle track “Dogma”. The pumping, rhythmic interplay of harsh vocals and keyboard at 1:40 is inspired, but squeezing oud², bansuri³, and saxophone features—plus a guitar solo—into the back half of the song diminishes the impact of each of those respectively stellar performances. It’s curious that Voidchaser have opted for such short releases here at the start of their career; even Solace clocked in at a svelte twenty-nine minutes. The approach of longer tracks on shorter releases, with a slew of different elements slotted into each song, comes at the expense of the immersion and time to unfurl afforded by a longer album.

I’d like to see Voidchaser walk a few more miles (or kilometres) in their own shoes before filling up their boot tray with a roster of other contributors. But despite their occasionally harried songwriting, the creative passion and musicianship fuelling this young band will propel them a long way—whether through the vast reaches of space, or just back to the recording studio to further refine their recipe and cook us up another album.

Recommended tracks: If you’re only going to check out one, “Trust”

You may also like: The Anchoret, Universe Effects, Ashbreather

Final verdict: 6.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Independent

Voidchaser is:
– Chad Bernatchez: Vocals, rhythm guitar
– Jici LG: Bass
– Jimmy Montbriand: Lead guitar
– Colin MacAndrew: Drums

1. With whom I was not previously familiar; they are fantastic and remind me of a heavier Reign of Kindo ︎
2. A Middle Eastern relative of the lute ︎
3. A bamboo flute of South Asian origin ︎

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