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.

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: Progressive metal, alternative metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Tool, Karnivool, Soen (pre-Lotus), Leprous
Country: France
Release date: 21 June 2025

I first discovered Mantra by way of a review on this very blog covering Medium, their 2019 EP conceived around a gimmick of releasing two separate tracks which could be overlaid on top of each other to create the “true” full song. It should be no surprise that Mantra might return to a highly conceptual approach for their latest album Celestial. One “season” of this album has been released on each equinox or solstice starting last fall, and now that we’ve passed the summer solstice to complete the cycle, the four parts can finally be brought together for the full experience. I initially intended to review Celestial last fall after the project was announced and the first EP released, but it quickly became clear that trying to develop an analysis based on what was essentially an introduction would be a flawed approach. With the benefit of greater context, the opening tracks from Fall still feel like mostly setup, but now provide a proper introduction to a broader work instead of a ramp leading directly over the edge of a sheer cliff.

As a first impression of Mantra, Medium has always left me feeling a bit, well, medium—not due to any great flaws in the music itself, but because of how little its structural gimmick enhances the listening experience. Each track individually, as well as the final combination, just sounds like a normal (and generally pretty good) song; it doesn’t feel like either of the component parts are missing anything critical, but by the same token, putting them back together doesn’t offer any great sense of completion. With that in mind, Celestial faces a similar test: was it worth the song and dance around its staggered release, and do the chopped-up pieces join together in a way that feels more meaningful than just producing any old album themed around the four seasons? Or will the disjointed scheduling lead to an equally disjointed listening experience when all is told?

Mantra’s musical aesthetic as a whole is not the most original, nor generally the most flashy or virtuosically impressive. Their success depends heavily on maintaining a rich mix of alternative elements, with hefty bass, dark-roasted malt guitars, and edgy half-growled vocals that only rarely break completely into harsh tones. Medium’s greatest shortcoming was undercutting that core richness by dividing one strong track into two weaker ones. Although Celestial’s limitations are less inherent to its release structure, it seems its development may have focused more on each section’s role within the turn of the seasons rather than polishing each track to be the best it could be. Whatever the story of Celestial’s conception, though, the result is far from a failure. The opening Fall sands down some of the metal edges in favor of a heavy progressive rock hybrid that could be compared to Leprous’s most recent works or this year’s outing from Derev, but the second quarter Winter unfolds an icy shroud, hearkening back to Mantra’s more familiar styles with omnipresent bass and choppy, deliberately off-balance rhythms embedded in heady time signatures.

Mantra apply their penchant for grandeur towards building cathedral-worthy scenes filled with epic choral guest vocals from Juliette and Matthis Lemonnier, like the section just past the midpoint of Winter’s second track “Vessel” or the climactic final moments of the monolithic Spring. Celestial’s lyrics hint at grand extraterrestrial topics of apocalypses and dying suns, cosmic purpose granted to a chosen savior, and the folly and failure of one imagining a divine destiny that was never there. Despite the effort put into the seasonal release cadence, the four seasons don’t feature heavily as lyrical or stylistic themes, aside from the general connection between seasons and the sun; the focus lands instead on the deific glory of stars and the spiritual feelings they inspire. Widespread piano presence and the usage of particularly chime-like effects from both guitar and keyboard echo earthly religious musical traditions as well as evoke a more natural “music of the spheres” that might lend itself to pagan worship.

The biggest thing missing from Celestial is a sort of “wow” moment, a grand climax to make the listener sit up in awe. Their past works have accomplished this with satisfying, drawn-out development, which piles up more and more elements until the music is full to bursting. Celestial’s triumphant moments during the Winter and Spring seasons arrive too early in the tracklist and don’t quite reach the required heights, but Mantra’s overall compositions are strong nonetheless, providing an abundance of smaller peaks throughout to help keep the energy high.

Mantra remain single-minded in their goal to push the boundaries of musical composition through experiments in unconventional release formats. It’s unfortunate that these efforts don’t add a ton to the music itself; the base talent and quality of their compositions provide a strong starting point, but their final productions struggle to rise above that level and achieve true excellence. Mantra continue to deliver moody, untamed rhythms with a dark, satisfyingly crunchy toasted edge. With strong production and clever ideas behind the music, there’s plenty to recommend Celestial, even if the band’s full machinations haven’t quite come to fruition. I just wouldn’t advise waiting nine months to collect all the pieces.

Recommended tracks: Winter I – Isolation, Winter II – Vessel, Spring – Home, Summer I – Transcendence
You may also like: Mother of Millions, Diagonal Path, Riviẽre, In the Silence, Traverser
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Vlad Productions – Bandcamp | Website | Facebook

Mantra is:
– Gabriel Junod (percussion)
– Pierre Junod (vocals)
– Arthur Lauth (bass, piano)
– Simon Saint-Georges (guitars, electric oud)
With guests:
– Juliette Lemonnier (additional vocals)
– Matthis Lemonnier (additional vocals)
– Niqolah Seeva (oud)

The post Review: Mantra – Celestial appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive rock, symphonic prog (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Gong, Steve Hillage, Rush, Motorpsycho
Country: Tennessee, United States
Release date: 4 July 2025

Very few works are as satisfying to come across as an overly ambitious yet brilliant opus. Azure’s Fym, Dissona’s Paleopneumatic, and Native Construct’s Quiet World are journeys across fantastical landscapes and across genres, dedicating themselves to a persistent theatrical grandeur; their lofty goals are overwhelmingly successful, and a slight lack of polish lends these records a timeless charm and a much-needed sense of humanity. Enter Pishogue, a genre-transcending duo featuring Georgia’s Finnian Boyson as Bælor’Throndoth and Tennessee’s Spife as, uh, Spife. Pishogue’s self-titled LP explored menacing and hypnotic Berlin school synths as a framework for an expansive story involving the collapsed continent of The Eldslunds, a setting rife with advanced technology, magical corruption, and prophecy. The duo’s latest release, The Tree at the End of Time, wholly recontextualizes the synths of Pishogue into a symphonic prog framework, detailing a pivotal moment in The Eldslunds’ history involving the transfer of knowledge and subsequent ascension of a Pishogue introduced in the debut. Like the titular character, do Pishogue transcend their expectations or do they collapse under the weight of their ambition?

Comprised of two expansive twenty-minute pieces, The Tree at the End of Time explores myriad textures as the movements weave in and out of free-form keyboard soundscapes and psychedelic, high-energy progressive rock jams. Dissonance is used as an accentuating feature, both in the synths (14:10 on “The Ascension of Metatron”) and in the guitars (4:30 on “The Tree”). In The Eldslunds, improvisation is the name of the game: each track moves about within a loose structure, focused more on the natural evolution of a song than on careful placement of motifs as Spife and Bælor’Throndoth play ideas off of each other. The record exudes 70s sensibilities, particularly in the fuzzy and warm production, the instrumental timbre, and in Spife’s vocal performance. Atop all this is an intricate story involving a Pishogue discovering a tree that imbues them with aeons of knowledge, cementing them as an avatar for the old gods.

Throughout both synthesized soundscapes and distorted progressive rock, the free and relaxed nature of improvisation is fully embodied across The Tree at the End of Time. Ideas introduced by Spife are allowed to stew for a few bars before Bælor’Throndoth introduces additional layers, and vice versa. Most notable is the accelerando drum buildup near the end of “The Tree”. Bælor’Throndoth smartly waits for Spife’s drum solo to culminate before releasing the tension with bright synth pads and swirling organ melodies, only to then build those into an utterly explosive finale alongside a cacophony of percussion. Additionally, the ferocious and kinetic jam at 4:20 on “The Tree” features keyboards that slowly creep in, allowing the listener to settle into the groove before being twisted into a frenetic and whining synth/guitar dance. Pishogue’s synergy is palpable across the record, as their performances show a prudence necessary to keep the loose song structures stable and cohesive. However, that doesn’t mean they restrain themselves entirely, as plenty of chaos is allowed to bleed in across both pieces in tandem with the more intense story beats. A frightening and volcanic section erupts around 12:40 of “The Ascension of Metatron”, where wailing guitars and stuttering drums are buried under harsh organ stabs, reflecting the inability of the Pishogue’s mind to comprehend the weight of The Tree’s gifted knowledge.

Whereas most prog prides itself on crystal-clear, almost clinical precision and cleanliness, Pishogue revel in an organic and raw feel that lends itself magnificently to The Tree at the End of Time’s improvisational nature. For example, the organ melody that introduces a Rush-flavored drum pattern on “The Ascension of Metatron” begins just a bit earlier than the drums, and the two fall out of lockstep for a couple of bars near the end of the first verse when briefly switching to an off-beat, but the section as a whole is so energetic and fun that the brief blemishes do little to mar the enjoyment. Where it becomes a bit more challenging to appreciate The Tree at the End of Time’s looseness is when these moments go on for too long: the organ solo at 4:50 on “Ascension” falls out of line with the drums a bit too persistently and ends up pulling me out of the experience for a moment. The track quickly pulls itself back together, though, with biting drum-bass interplay leading into a delicate and ethereal folk section. Additionally, many of the vocal performances are a little too raw and wild, particularly across “Ascension” during the blown-out and overwhelming vocals around 14:25 and the pitchy delivery in the track’s first verse. These are likely meant to represent the more fractured moments of the Pishogue’s sanity, but they are just a bit too grating in delivery; if anywhere could use some polish, it would be these sections.

Despite the occasionally eldritch soundscapes, free-form song structure, and use of dissonance, much of The Tree at the End of Time is ineffably cozy thanks to its unapologetic 70s sensibilities. The aforementioned folk section of “Ascension”, for example, features soft harmonized vocals, gently picked guitars, and wistfully delicate synth melodies not unlike the contemporary folk of the time; a playful flute dances around the section as well. Around 9:10 on “The Tree”, a fuzzy guitar melody evokes the feeling of entering an enchanted forest before leading into a triumphant solo. The more intense sections of the record often sit right alongside these more serene and bright sections, showcasing an effective compositional balance and evoking a dynamic narrative arc with logical flow.

The Tree at the End of Time shows a skillful collaboration between two artists, embracing the organic and sometimes messy nature of improvisation among monolithic symphonic prog pieces. Though a few sections could benefit from a bit of extra polish, particularly in the vocal delivery and in the rhythmic execution, much of the record effectively glides along its stream of consciousness and tells a dynamic high fantasy story.

Recommended tracks: The Tree
You may also like: Moving Gelatine Plates, We Broke The Weather, Karmic Juggernaut, David Bedford, Egg
Final verdict: 7.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Instagram

Label: Independent

Pishogue is:
– Spife (drums, guitar, bass, keyboards, violin, vocals)
– Bælor’Throndoth (bass, keyboards)

The post Review: Pishogue – The Tree at the End of Time appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Dream Theater, Haken, Threshold, Circus Maximus
Country: Germany
Release date: 25 July 2025

Progressive metal is no stranger to classic literature. From Mastodon’s retelling of Moby Dick on Leviathan (one of my all-time favorite albums) to Symphony X’s The Odyssey based on, well, The Odyssey, prog metal fans could probably ace a high school literature class just by referencing their record collections. The two media may as well be siblings—sharing complex and expanding structures, lofty ideas and existential themes, and a tendency to prioritize the journey over any particular moment or destination. Both demand patience while rewarding immersion, and you’re going to need a lot of the former with Tiny Miracles, the second full-length from international prog-metalers Sad Serenity. From well-known works like Thoreau’s Walden to relatively obscure science fiction short stories such as An Empty House with Many Doors by Michael Swanwick, each of the six tracks on Tiny Miracles takes some influence from the literary realm, blending music and narrative in true prog fashion.

Sad Serenity’s 2023 debut, The Grand Enigma, revealed a band that pulls from the traddiest of trad-prog: high vocals hover atop liquid smooth distorted guitars, various and sundry tickled ivories, and some flashy drum-work—all wrapped in a flair for technical proficiency, a taste for intricate songwriting, and an eye toward grand, cinematic ideas both lyrical and musical. Their music prays to Dream Theater while lighting candles at Haken’s altar. Tiny Miracles is no different in this regard. With improved production, refined riffage, and a clear concept, the LP marks an upward trajectory for Sad Serenity.

However, one element of their debut still looms large: excess. Now, I’ll happily listen to a twenty-minute prog epic. I’m an endurance listener, not a sprinter. But long songs still need movement, contrast, and development to earn their keep. Here, little if any tonal variation within or between the songs helps to establish their identities. Rather than unfolding, the songs often feel stretched to their absolute limits. “Tiny” miracles, these are not. “The Elemental Dance,” Tiny Miracles’ lengthiest showcase at nearly twenty-three minutes, illustrates this issue. Opening with a skip hopping guitar riff accompanied by some attention catching synths and keyboards, it journeys through several movements spliced by quasi-interludes that provide only a little dynamic contrast. These movements—mostly made up of identically-toned guitar riffs and impressive, sweepy solos—aren’t distinguishable enough from each other to recall much beyond the intriguing intro.

I’m tempted to say that you could superimpose that problem on Tiny Miracles as a whole, but a few standout songs and ideas prevent me from doing so completely. I particularly enjoy “Alter Ego”—based on Robert Louis Stevenson’s Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The song’s monstrous opening riff, soft and catchy vocals in the verse, and contrasting melodies are appropriately thematic to the classic story that speaks to the light and dark inside of us all. “A Cabin in the Woods,” Sad Serenity’s version of Henry David Thoreau’s Walden, is lofty and grandiose, exploring melodies ranging from appropriately woodsy to insane and delirious with cabin fever. The end result is far removed from the simple and meditative ideals of Thoreau’s experiment.

Though several songs are elongated past their own good, I continue to be drawn in by Tiny Miracles’ literary inspiration and lyrics. The aforementioned “Alter Ego” does a fantastic job of setting the stage of its tale: “Fog’s slow creeping / Gas lantern’s glimmering / Town life’s procession still rolling in.” The lyrics also capture the emotional core of Stevenson’s story with lines like: “Caught in between incongruous natures / Paradoxal through and through / Daydreams of their separation / A Man’s not truly one, but two.” The affective pull of the lyrics is made all the more powerful by vocalist George Margaritopoulos’ delivery. Though not presenting a lot of tonal variety, Margaritopoulos shows some impressive upper range (“Torn,” “Tell the Moon”).

The other musical components of Tiny Miracles follow the path laid by the vocals: exceptional musicianship undermined by a lack of variety, which leads to a kind of outstanding sameness that makes the album hard to distinguish from moment to moment. The album has some genuine highlights, but they’re often interwoven into extended stretches that blur together. Like the literature that inspired it, this record demands full engagement from the listener. But unlike those works, it struggles to consistently reward the listener for that attention. Sometimes tangled in its own sprawl, the album will both awe and test your endurance, leaving you equal parts impressed and adrift.

Recommended tracks: Alter Ego, Cabin in the Woods, Tiny Miracles
You may also like: Headspace, Vanden Plas, Virtual Symmetry
Final verdict: 6/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Independent release

Sad Serenity is:
– Marcell Kaemmerer (guitars, keyboards, bass)
– George Margaritopoulos (vocals)
– Vinny Silva (drums)
With guests:
– Andrew Huskey (vocals)
– Lathika Vithanage (violin)
– Ellen Mross (accordion)
– Aranka Stimec (transverse flute)

1. The promo copy I received had a sticker covering most of the artist’s name, and I’m unable to otherwise determine the artist. ︎

The post Review: Sad Serenity – Tiny Miracles appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: symphonic metal, heavy metal, Byzantine chant (clean vocals, choral)
Recommended for fans of: Batushka, Rotting Christ, Therion, Haggard
Country: Greece
Release date: 6 July 2025

Monastic monophonic chant gets me going: the style of religious music is utterly sublime. After the Great Schism in 1054, the Church split into Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy, and both sects developed their own unique—but overlapping—chant. As a (unfortunately) confirmed Catholic, I had to choose a confirmation name, so naturally, I went with Gregory after my adoration of Gregorian chant. But back to the Byzantine side: the musical and cultural differences of the liturgical style are clearly due to Ottoman influences coming from the East. Rather than evenly tempered Catholic modes, the Byzantine monks used a complex set of eight modes called echoi with microtonal intervals, the vocalists relying on melismas (slides between notes) in opposition to the Catholic monks who stick to full jumps between intervals.

This miniature history/music theory lesson should help frame Greek heavy metaler Δynamis’ debut album Byzantine Metal. The record, as the title so helpfully tells us, merges traditional Byzantine chant with metal. For a debut in a largely untapped realm—Batushka are the only obvious forebear—Byzantine Metal is a successful exploration of the intersection between Orthodoxy and metal. The lyrics are from actual hymns, and the majority of the music is sung in Greek with sing-along choruses in English. The clear highlight chorus is that of “Cherubic Hymn,” the lyrics all about celebrating Hellenic identity.

Vocally, Δynamis fill Byzantine Metal to the brim with wonderful monophonic choral lines provided by a full men’s choir of five, and their melismatic ornamentations to the vocal lines are immediate starting from opener “Kyrie Ekekraxa (Psalm 140).” Naturally, choirs fit in well with the epic vibes metal curates, but the ways in which Δynamis bring the traditional Byzantine chant into something modern and fit for the heavy metal ear is brilliant. The highlight performance on the album is from guest vocalist Billy Vass (on tracks “Kyrie Ekekraxa (Psalm 140),” “Kyrie Eleison,” and “Cherubic Hymn”) whose tone is superb for heavy metal, somewhere in between Tobias Sammet (Avantasia) and Daniel Heiman (Sacred Outcry). But his technique is the highlight, as he perfectly imitates the single melodic line of the choirs underneath him but with the bold, solo singing voice of metal. 

Beyond the strong Hellenic vocals, Δynamis keep the instrumentals high stakes epic with a variety of orchestration and shreddy guitar solos. They follow in the track’s distinct modes and accompany the clean vocal lines exceptionally well at some points (chorus of “Polyeleos (Psalm 135),” intro “Alosis 1453 (Psalm 78)”). When not riffing underneath a chorus, guitarist Bob Katsionis often works in conjunction with the Greek choral quintet to create wonderful buildups—the buildup into the English chorus with Vass in “Kyrie Eleison,” for instance, is one of the most hype and epic buildups I’ve heard this year despite the track’s brevity. However, most of the actual “riffs” on Byzantine Metal are plodding and uninspired, mostly power chords at a lollygagging pace. Of course, the guitars are certainly not Δynamis’ main point of interest, but hearing flashes of their melodic brilliance during most of Byzantine Metal makes the remainder seem disappointing. Having the guitars mostly be relegated to a mildly distorted texture so that the chanting sections remain “metal” is bland songwriting.

A brief aside into music theory-lite again: In opposition to the plainsong style of Gregorian chant which relies on improvised harmonization, Byzantine chant is highly structured although still freeflowing in rhythm and ornamentation. Unfortunately, Δynamis missed this memo as the band aimlessly hop section to section with little sense of cohesive flow. Byzantine Metal drifts through a string of bombastic, often ingenious ideas, but Δynamis easily lose the plot, and often I found a song blowing right by without me noticing much of what happened beyond “wow these are sick chants.”

Byzantine Metal is a history and music theory lesson along with a (in-theory) rad Hellenic heavy metal album all at once, and Δynamis showed off their love for Eastern Orthodox traditions to a whole new audience. With more emphasis on bringing Eastern melody into the guitar rather than relying on drab power chords—while possibly enlisting Vass as a full-time band member—Δynamis may become a powerful force in the powerful Greek metal scene. They’re already a unique one.

Recommended tracks: Kyrie Ekekraxa (Psalm 140), Kyrie Eleison, Alosis 1453 (Psalm 78), Cherubic Hymn
You may also like: Sacred Outcry, Ensemble Sreteniye, Epta Astera, Tim Donahue
Final verdict: 6.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Facebook

Label: independent

Δynamis is:
– Christopher Laskos: (Vocals/Choir, Keyboards, Choir Conducting)
-Bob Katsionis (Guitars/Bass/Keyboards/Drums)
With guests:
– Dimitrios Balageorgos, Athanasios Glaros, Lazaros Koumentakis, Stefanos Koumentakis, Christopher Laskos (choir of chanters)
– Billy Vass (Lead Vocals on tracks 1, 3, 8)
-Kyriakos GP (Guitar solo on track 8)

The post Review: Δynamis – Byzantine Metal appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal, power metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Symphony X, Dream Theater, Seventh Wonder, Angra
Country: United States-New York
Release date: 14 June 2025

Sometimes I lament the fact that I only started The Progressive Subway in 2018. There werevso many interesting underground albums in the years prior, but if not for reviewing, finding a reason to attentively listen to a random good, maybe even great obscure album from, say, 2014 becomes increasingly difficult as the years go by. An underground album needs to be either strikingly unique or exceptionally well written (or both!) to stand the test of time. One such album I wish I had gotten to review is Daydream XI’s 2017 release The Circus of the Tattered and Torn: a brilliant concept album in classic prog metal fashion, blending Symphony X, Dream Theater, and Seventh Wonder in equal parts. Tragically, Daydream XI disbanded as their main songwriter Tiago Masseti moved from Brazil to New York. Now, eight years after Circus, Masseti has blessed us with a solo album to continue his prog-power quest for the stars. Can Odds and Ends live up to the hype?

In many ways, Odds and Ends continues where Circus left off and shows much of what made that album so special: ferocious, heavy-as-balls riffage, superb lead guitar work skillfully balancing melody and shred, charismatic vocals, tight songwriting, and all the odd-time and transition wankery a prog fan could ask for. The overall tone has become darker, however, thanks to brooding synths and slightly more ferocious riffs, and Masseti has also experimented with multi-tracking himself to make a choir, such as on “The Singer in the Arms of Winter” and “Never Be Like You”. Of course, one must not forget to mention the heavy Symphony X influences that seep through nearly every crack of Masseti’s writing, most of which he disguises just well enough to avoid the worship allegations (for when he doesn’t—just listen to the intro of “Heir of the Survivor”), and the clear Dream Theater-isms that pop up in proggier moments (e.g. the unison solo in “Against Our Fire”). Either way, Masseti’s talent for songwriting ensures influences are cute nods instead of belabored crutches, and his instrumental prowess is dazzling as ever.

At a succinct 47 minutes, Odds and Ends is remarkably compact, for the prog-power genre at large but especially so considering both Daydream XI albums spanned over 70 minutes. Much like Circus, the first half of Odds and Ends consists of compact, riff-driven tracks, while the latter half contains epics, slow burners, and ballads. This structuring leads to incredible momentum at first, but rather stilted pacing in the mid-to-late stretch that the album’s closing epic can only partially remedy, as any gathered steam has been irretrievably lost. On Circus, “Forgettable” was the major momentum killer, ironically living up to its name by being the third lengthy slow-starting track in a row when a faster overall tempo was needed (on a sidenote: this is my only real gripe with Circus). On Odds and Ends, most momentum from the first three tracks was already “Gone” thanks to a breather ballad, but it’s the follow-up Dio-homage “The Singer in the Arms of Winter” that truly wreaks the album’s pacing with its dramatic, plodding arrangements and extended ballad-y outro. The track is fine in execution by itself—if a tad long—thanks to Masseti’s excellent vocal prowess, but its awkward placement unnecessarily brings it down. The following “Never Be Like You” tries to patch things up by beginning explosively, but another extended outro—this time in dramatic midtempo—puts a lid on that fire before it could spread. 

Remarkably however, I found that switching the track order of “The Singer in the Arms of Winter” and “Never Be Like You” immediately fixes nearly all pacing issues (the remaining issue being that both tracks could have easily been trimmed a minute or two). As it stands, track 4 “Gone” is a welcome heartfelt breather, but the transition into the drama of “The Singer” is clunky both tonally and pacing-wise. By placing “Never Be Like You” at track 5 instead of 6, the album smoothly regains its momentum. The track opens with a very brief hypnotic, slightly haunting modal guitar motif—somewhere between phrygian and atonal—that gives an unsettling, vaguely Middle-Eastern vibe before unleashing a hellfire riff barrage. Coming off the emotionally charged twin-harmony solo that “Gone” ends with, this transition naturally reintroduces tension and intensity into the album’s narrative structure. Meanwhile, the song’s dramatic mid-tempo outro segues seamlessly into the lumbering, brooding heft of “The Singer”, whose ballad-like outro then glides without “Hindrance” into a gorgeous piano ballad.

But pacing issues are not the only complaint I have about Odds and Ends; Masseti’s vocals seem to have deteriorated ever so slightly since his Daydream XI days, too. He’s still got a majestic, versatile voice, but there’s forcefulness in his delivery that he didn’t need before, sounding noticeably more strained. Compare, for instance, his singing in “Trust-Forged Knife” by Daydream XI to virtually any track on Odds and Ends: on the former, he’s silky smooth for the softer lines and effortlessly majestic when he’s belting, while on Odds and Ends he sounds like he’s pushing his voice beyond its capabilities to impress you, coming off unnecessarily edgy. Furthermore, the compression levels on Odds and Ends border on unpleasant, most notably in the drums, making the record louder than it needs to be—again adding to the edgy masculinity feeling. The production is great otherwise, providing ample room for each instrument, and the riffs are positively crushing—I just wish it all came without the ear fatigue.

Critiques aside, Masseti’s exceptional talent for songcraft shines through many a time on Odds and Ends. “The Pool of Liquid Dreams” might be the shortest metal song on the album, but it’s by far the most densely packed one, going from leads that sound like they could have come out of a Slash record, to pop punk, to intense power metal, to absurdly cool odd-time sections and blistering shred, and back. Similarly, “Against Our Fire” is a rapid prog-power track with especially impressive soloing and it successfully experiments with harsh vocals in the chorus. And while I ragged on their track order, Masseti pulls out all the vocal stops for phenomenal results when “The Singer in the Arms of Winter” reaches its climax, and the vocal multi-tracking in “Never Be Like You” is used creatively. Finally, “Serpents and Whores” and “Heir of the Survivor” are fantastic bookend tracks. The former is a heavy, suspenseful chonker of an opener, while the latter blends melodic beauty with dynamic prog metal, taking clear inspiration from neoclassical Symphony X epics like “The Accolade” or “Through the Looking Glass”. That said, one could argue its opening melodies evoke that particular sound a little too well.

While Odds and Ends may not be exceptional like The Circus of the Tattered and Torn, it’s great to have Masseti back on the prog metal stage. He’s an extremely talented songwriter and performer with a lot of charisma. Much like its name indicates, Odds and Ends plays like a collection of ideas that don’t always coalesce well, but when they do, the results are spectacular. I hope he’ll be able to bless us with his songwriting talents more frequently from here on out; after all, it’d be a shame to let the momentum go to waste.

Recommended tracks: Serpents and Whores, The Pool of Liquid Dreams, Heir of the Survivor
You may also like: Daydream XI, Sacred Outcry, Scardust, Manticora, Witherfall
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Independent

Masseti is:
– Thiago Masseti (vocals, guitars, piano, keyboards)
With guests:
– Thiago Caurio (drums on tracks 1, 3, 4, 6, 8)
– Benhur Lima (bass)
– Bruno Pinheiro Machado (guitar solo on track 2)
– Renato Osório (additional guitars on track 4, 5)
– Marcelo Pereira (guitar solo on track 6)
– Cezar Tortorelli (orchestration on track 2)
– Fábio Caldeira (piano, orchestration on track 7)
– Eduardo Baldo (drums on tracks 2, 5)

The post Review: Masseti – Odds and Ends appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Power metal, progressive metal (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Stratovarius, Queensrÿche, Fates Warning
Country: Texas, United States
Release date: 27 June 2025

As any musician knows, actually writing music is only part of the album cycle. To craft a successful record, deep thought must be given to the recording process, the mixing, and the mastering, otherwise there’s a much slimmer chance of your vision truly coming to life. Texas prog metallers Transcendence were quite cognizant of this when penning their planned-for-2020 record, Nothing Etched in Stone. Intended to be a singular piece, recording and mastering issues surfaced from the constraints of the pandemic. After five years, the group has finally gotten the chance to re-record and distribute the album, with the caveat of splitting it into two parts. Does Nothing Etched in Stone, Part I etch itself into the progressive metal monolith?

Nothing Etched in Stone effuses a classic heavy metal sensibility—glimpses of Queensrÿche emerge in vocalist Brian Dixon’s timbre and in the straightforward, riff-heavy approach to songwriting. Choruses are the compositional focal point, as the surrounding sections serve as a buildup to these moments led along by the vocals. In many cases, Transcendence feels more closely aligned with power metal than it does progressive metal with its relatively compact runtimes, focus on melody over technicality, and energetic sensibilities.

The lack of showboating or complex song structures is not to say, however, that Nothing Etched in Stone is a dull or featureless listen. The vocals in particular are a standout, Dixon imbuing his performance with charisma and energy. On “Take Control”, he takes on a Timo Kotipelto-style (Stratovarius) approach full of excitement and large melodies, while “One Fear” interplays djenty grooves with brooding vocal lines. Closing ballad “Ruins… Before the Dawn” best showcases Dixon’s versatility, as he is given room to both pull back and punctuate: the harpsichord plays nicely with his varied performance, shining a light on the more delicate aspects of his voice and juxtaposing the more in-your-face lines from previous tracks with an impassioned and heartfelt atmosphere.

Ironically, though, many of the tracks in between end up falling flat precisely because of Dixon’s energy. Despite his charisma and distinctive timbre, there is a sense of homogeneity as his execution sits at a single level across almost all of Nothing Etched in Stone. “Ruins… Before the Dawn” is the central exception to this rule, indicating that Transcendence are fully capable of writing dynamic and layered pieces if they so choose to. Maintaining the excitement of the first two tracks is challenging without any variation; in the case of Nothing Etched in Stone, little room is given for more delicate, restrained passages and virtually no extra oomph is given to climaxes. As a consequence, the record is rendered a bit stale for most of its runtime.

The backing instruments don’t fare much better, often lacking the charisma or prominence of the vocals. Transcendence’s chorus-focused approach means that in many instances, the music becomes an afterthought, particularly when taking into account the overabundant mid-paced tempo comprising the bulk of the album’s runtime. The pacing is also done no favors by the relatively pointless intro track, nor is it helped by the two consecutive interludes before “Ruins”, which do little more than derail the album’s compositional arc. However, the band manage to break out of their confines on occasion, whether it be the surprising instrumental switch-up halfway through “Last Solstice”, the melodic, high-energy guitar leads on “Take Control”, or the temperamental djent grooves on “One Fear”. Additionally, “Voices in the Dark” features energetic guitarwork along with a solo which interplays nicely with the vocals, and the use of harpsichord and a bass-forward chorus on “Ruins” adds a tinge of baroque flavor. 

More so than remastering and perfecting the recording, Nothing Etched in Stone, Part I needs to be tweaked to make room for more exploration of highs and lows. Were the band to utilize more dynamics by giving space to recede in intensity or push its sound a bit further, the record would be a thoroughly enjoyable slab of chunky power-prog. Nothing Etched in Stone is evidence of Transcendence‘s potential as songwriters, especially when executing the dreaded ballad, but unfortunately, these highlights are marred by an overall homogeneous listen. Knowing that this is only half of the whole piece and pacing issues have already emerged gives me concern for the fate of the upcoming Part II, but I will remain optimistic—nothing is etched in stone, after all.

Recommended tracks: Ruins… Before the Dawn, One Fear, Take Control
You may also like: Pathosray, Conception, Enbound, Lancer
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Cosmic Fire Records – Facebook | Official Website

Transcendence is:
– Kirk Wood (bass, vocals)
– Derrek Edwards (drums)
– Jeff Ford (guitars)
– John Howser (keyboards, piano)
– Brian Dixon (vocals)

The post Review: Transcendence – Nothing Etched in Stone, Part I appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Rush, Voyager, Steven Wilson, Frost*, Crown Lands
Country: Brazil
Release date: 4 July 2025

The year was 2013. Budding Brazilian musician Léo Skinner was on recon in Canada, in a snowy Toronto suburb. An overly chilly companion put on his down jacket, revealing a stitched-on patch reading “RASH” in an unusual font. They all had a good laugh, even if Léo didn’t quite understand it. But their momentary lapse in concentration allowed “The Starman” to get the jump on them. Skinner spent the next three years in a questionably cleaned basement, forced to listen to a thin musical stew made from prominent, showy basslines, keening tenor vocals, icy guitar and synth chords, and forty-four kinds of percussion. He came close to madness trying to find it back in Brazil, but they just couldn’t get the production right!¹

So, I imagine, was the origin story of Skinner Project, whose eponymous leader, singer, and bass virtuoso has made no secret of his aspiration to be the Geddy Lee of São Paulo since its founding eight years ago. But, to be fair, the band’s latest offering, To Earth With Love, shows that it is more than just the ’80s Rush carbon copy that some might paint it as. The overall sound on offer here is more as if a young Geddy time traveled forward and began working with a shiny, hook-driven synth-prog act such as Voyager, with a bit of melodic influence taken from Steven Wilson‘s lighter material. Purporting to offer sci-fi-tinged yet deeply personal themes of longing, belonging, and self-discovery, the stage is set for Skinner Project to aim for the fine-honed balance of technical proficiency and emotional resonance achieved by their idols. Do they manage to shine like the Aurora Borealis, or are they simply burning down the kitchen?

Well, they certainly nail the sound, at the very least. This is a proper slab of old-school sci-fi hard prog, with keyboards that twinkle and shimmer like stars in the night sky, guitars that strike that Alex Lifeson-esque balance between rock-and-roll brawn and delicate atmosphere, and high-pitched vocals that exude just the right level of nasality. Opener “To the Stars” acts as an excellent sampling platter for the album’s overall sound, from the pounding Peart-esque percussion of its intro to its spacey, atmospheric verses and big, punchy choruses. Skinner’s aggressive “lead bass” is especially notable throughout, boasting a killer, shredding presence that particularly shines when met blow for blow with Léo Nascimento’s conga-bolstered battery of drums. There are a couple of slight musical curveballs here, such as the full-on synthwave of “The Devil’s Fault” or the saccharine pop-AOR of “A Dream of Us”, but for the most part the overall approach remains the same—Ranieri Benvenuto’s charmingly retro keyboard atmospheres stitch together hard rock riffs and soft, extraterrestrial balladry alike while Skinner belts his heart out on each anthemic hook.

Speaking of hooks, Skinner Project have them in abundance, and there’s a clear melody-first approach evident throughout every track here, not just in the great choruses but in the instrumental passages as well. There’s a sense that the band know they could make things more challenging and virtuosic, but then the stupider listeners would be complaining, furrowing their brows in a vain attempt to understand the material. And this is definitely music meant to be as accessible and emotional as it is technically accomplished. The title track floats amid a soft, yearning melancholy, while tracks like “No Answer”—and especially the standout “Disconnected”—leverage their stellar hooks into a powerful sense of emotional catharsis, facing one’s inner demons head-on. Still, for all its gestures towards a “darker” tone (the band stated they were inspired by the Last of Us soundtrack of all things), this is an aggressively optimistic album at its core, with its heart-on-sleeve emotionality frequently threatening to tip over into full-on cheese. One could argue it does so in the absolute cheddar-fest that is “A Dream of Us”, though that song’s melodies are so indelibly catchy and heartfelt that I can’t help but be swept along anyway. A recurring theme is “There is still light, there is still hope”, and this band wants you to know that you are loved, dammit, even in the darkest reaches of space, physical or emotional. After listening to some of these soaring, major-key choruses, even the hardest-hearted of listeners might feel something…

…That is, if they don’t look too closely at the lyrics. Yeah, the album’s biggest sticking point by a fair margin is that the words, clearly meant to be powerful and inspirational, look to have been written by someone with a, shall we say, less than fluent grasp of the English language. I get that foreign bands, particularly in the prog-power space, have been pumping out endearingly ESL butcherings of lyricism for a while now, but seriously, lines like “Making home on a busy heart / Is like to take a shot in the darkness of disaffection” feel like they belong in a Kyle Gordon video. I also didn’t particularly care for the doofy robotic spoken word plastered over the otherwise excellent late-Rush styled instrumental “Report 28”; I’m just trying to enjoy the bass shredding and Microsoft Sam over here won’t shut the fuck up about his space voyage or whatever. The music, too, is clunky in spots, with meandering, flabby closer “Eternity” being a particularly noticeable step down from the album’s generally tight melodic songwriting. “Speaking in Silence” is also a bit of a misfire—guitarist Gui Beltrame takes over lead vocals here, and he just can’t sell the hooks nearly as well, straining to hit the high notes in the chorus.

For all its flaws, though, To Earth With Love is a deeply charming, enjoyable album, one refreshingly free of any traces of irony in its heartfelt entreaties to embrace one’s own inner kindness and humanity in the face of insecurity and alienation. Sure, said message is a bit clumsily delivered in places, but it’s hard to get mad at an album with its heart so courageously placed on its sleeve. It’s also a deeply nostalgic album, one whose glimmering synths, soaring solos, and nods to the likes of Rush, Porcupine Tree, and Pink Floyd² are sure to delight both the old and the old-at-heart. For anyone who wonders if they’re really so out of touch, To Earth With Love is there to reassure them that, no, it’s the children who are wrong. 

Recommended tracks: To the Stars, No Answer, Disconnected
You may also like: Mile Marker Zero, Elephant Planet, The Twenty Committee
Final verdict: 7/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Skinner Project is:
– Léo Skinner (vocals, bass, synths, programming)
– Léo Nascimento (drums, percussion)
– Gui Beltrame (guitars, vocals)
– Ranieri Benvenuto (synths, rhodes)

1. For those who didn’t get the reference. ︎
2. They sample the echoing vocal bit from “Dogs” during the intro to “No Answer”, making this the second least expected Pink Floyd quotation in an album I reviewed this year. ︎

The post Review: Skinner Project – To Earth, With Love appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Jazz pop, alternative hip-hop (clean vocals, rap)
Recommended for fans of: Thank You Scientist, daoud
Country: United States (NJ)
Release date: 13 June 2025

Being trapped here in the vast below-ground network of the Progressive Subway has its perks. Sure, sometimes there are rats, slime, and tyrannic brow-beatings to write our album reviews faster¹, but there’s also the priceless opportunity to exchange and deepen my love of the underground music scene by sharing recommendations with my fellow authors. When my colleague Dylan told me to check out Glass Garden a few months ago, their experimental jazz pop sound quickly sold me on the band’s debut album. With several current and former members of Thank You Scientist² on the band’s core and guest roster, the two bands are unmistakably part of the same family tree. 

However, you’ll notice one key difference about four seconds into the opening track of Desperate Little Messages, the band’s second album: namely, the rapping. Though many instrumental snippets on this album would fit right in on a TYS track, there’s far too much originality and eclecticism on display here to make “Thank You Scientist plus rap” a worthy comparison. Glass Garden’s sound is more restrained, and the absence of guitar in the main lineup³ or any real heaviness means that we’re miles away from any pesky debates about whether this is metal. Into this negative space, a rich instrumental array blooms luxuriantly into the forefront. Piano-leaning keyboard tones occasionally skew electronic, and bass, violin, and brass root a danceable groove. The two vocalists—one singer, one rapper—gambol over, under, and around the instrumentations, never quite overlapping one another.

The resulting energy is sprightly and spunky, but frontman John Kadian’s lyrics and vocal delivery don’t carry the same gravitas that I’d expect from a heavier proggy band like TYS or Coheed and Cambria. Rather, Kadian’s singing is youthful, guileless. “Crown of the Seafaring” and “Lighthouse” are prime examples: even as the lyrics are sometimes oblique and non-literal, it feels like Kadian could be sending us a late-night voice memo, talking through some loss or win or just trying to pin down the shape of a feeling before it slips away. While his vocals could benefit from more power at some points, the overall effect is charming. 

And of course, there’s the rapping. Idris Hoffman’s style is rhythmic and wordy but still casual and conversational, as it strays close to spoken word poetry. Some of the literality of a rapper like Aesop Rock is present, not exactly breaking the fourth wall but lightly knocking against it with a twinkle in the eye. In the midst of a flurry of f-bombs on “Making Space”, Hoffman lampshades the barrage by throwing in the words “expletive expletive expletive”. On tracks like “Kind Hand”, the instrumentals pull back to and allow the rap verses to expand and resonate, while elsewhere, Hoffman fades behind the instrumental cacophony. In the outro of “Wax & Wane”, the feeling of flooding overwhelm is more prominent than any individual lyric. Both vocalists tread a careful line that keeps their capricious whimsy from turning into a cudgel of zaniness. Some moments playfully colour outside the lines, as with the glitching distortion on Hoffman’s voice in “Will-of-Whispers” that evokes clipping.’s Dead Channel Sky, or Kadian’s delivery of his own hazy rap verse in “Wax & Wane”. But crucially, it’s never wacky enough to diminish the emotional sincerity. 

Not to be outdone by the dual vocalists, Glass Garden’s rhythm section round out the band’s core lineup with nuanced, apposite deliveries. Cody McCorry’s bass is deliciously prominent throughout the mix, capturing a sprightly yet effortless energy: those bass lines hustle underneath the action on tracks like “Wax & Wane”. Rather than destabilizing the rhythmic foundation, though, they pair elegantly with Faye Fadem’s drumming, which is comparatively understated where it needs to be while still seizing a few chances to dazzle (“Lighthouse”).

As on Glass Garden’s debut self-titled album, Desperate Little Messages also features a host of guest musicians. This includes a brass section of trumpet, sax, and trombone, whose luscious arrangements help to nudge the jazz dial up a couple notches. But in a key evolution from 2021’s Glass Garden, all the instruments are integrated seamlessly. Occasionally, this coalescence strays towards sameness; the final stretch of the album’s closer “Lighthouse”, in particular, feel more like a gentle fade than a final statement. On the whole the cohesion works, thanks to a lack of interludes or abrupt transitions. Ultimately, the direction is clear, and the ride is smooth. 

In “Sleepy, Hollow”, Idris Hoffman tells us: “I’m currently being wowed by how I got from here to there to here to where I want to be”. For their part, Glass Garden is exactly where I want them to be, as Desperate Little Messages is at once vulnerable and self-assured, with performances that are as musically tight as they are emotionally open. If Glass Garden can continue to iterate on their fresh, surprising sound, I’ll be on the platform waiting to embark on whatever journey they have in store for us next.

Recommended tracks: Making Space, Sleepy, Hollow, Will-of-Whispers
You may also like: The Psycodelics, Hard Maybe
Final verdict: 8/10

Related links: Spotify | Instagram

Label: independent

Glass Garden is:
– John Kadian (vocals, keyboard)
– Idris Hoffman (vocals)
– Faye Fadem (drums)
– Cody McCorry (bass)
With guests:
– Joey Gullace (trumpet)
– Patrick Higgins (saxophone)
– Ian Gray (trombone)
– Ben Karas (violin)
– Jacob Lawson (violin)
– Jenn Fantaccione (viola, cello)
– Angel Marcloid (guitar)

1. Just kidding! (blinks twice) ︎
2. One of my favourite bands, full stop. ︎
3. Angel Marcloid is credited as a guest on guitar. ︎

The post Review: Glass Garden – Desperate Little Messages appeared first on The Progressive Subway.