Artwork by: Jess Allanic

Style: Metalcore, Alternative Metal, Progressive Metal (Mixed Vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Poppy, Rolo Tomassi, Lake Malice, Wargasm, Holy Wars, As Everything Unfolds
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: 11 July 2025

Back in 2012, the Marvel Cinematic Universe changed the game and shook the industry with the release of The Avengers, a years-in-the-making blockbuster that brought all their disparate heroes together on the silver screen in a historic first. An approximate $1.5 billion later, and suddenly everyone else wanted a money-making universe of their own. DC Studios fast-tracked an Extended Universe; Fox brought back Bryan Singer for 2014’s X-Men: Days of Future Past, which saw OG trilogy stars reprise their roles alongside the new blood. Universal, the original maestros of the crossover universe, jumped back into the game with the Dark Universe, an especially ill-fated attempt that perfectly illustrated the folly of such heedless trend chasing. Hell, even Daniel Craig’s Bond tried with a series of interconnected films. Nowadays, the very mention of a connected universe is enough to elicit a solid groan from people who enjoy actual films over slop. This shit is exhausting. I have a job; I shouldn’t have to do more work to watch a movie. So, when I read the words “Welcome to the Calva Louise Universe” on UK metallers Calva Louise’s Bandcamp, you best believe my groan was mighty.

A three-piece with their own Avengers-esque story—that of unlikely compatriots drawn from disparate corners of the world for an ultimate purpose—Calva Louise is the collaborative brainchild of Venezuelan Jessica Allanic (vocals, guitars), Frenchman Alizo Taho (bass), and New Zealander Ben Parker (drums). Their albums tell a sci-fi story conceived by Allanic when she was younger, following a woman named Louise who discovers a mirror world beyond our own, populated by “Doubles.” Edge of the Abyss is their fourth LP, and my first experience with the band. With a sonic cuisine bringing together razor-edged metalcore, sci-fi electronica, art rock, and a charismatic frontwoman in Allanic, Calva Louise has the sort of core ingredients known to hook my tastes. But, can a first-timer like me survive such a plunge into the cinematic abyss, sans homework? Or do I need to spool up a subscription to Calva Louise+ for further education?

Put down the credit card and unroll those eyes: Edge of the Abyss is not only a stand-alone experience, but an exceptional one at that. While I’m certain there’s connective threads to prior albums linking all of this grand dimension-traversing narrative together, one may safely leave that at the feet of the Calva Louise lorekeepers. Packaged here are eleven tracks and forty minutes of absolutely gonzo, balls-to-the-wall progressive metalcore shot through a multiversal portal of Latin American rhythms, dance-hall-club thumpers, and an uncorked vocal performance to rival Poppy’s most schismatic aural shenanigans. Allanic goes full Bruce Banner / Hulk, delivering saccharine-inflected, almost playfully psychotic cleans reminiscent of bubblegoth-era Kerli before jumping into the purple pants to unleash an arsenal of razored screeches and some surprisingly thunderous lows. Like Poppy, Allanic changes styles at the drop of a dime, made all the more impressive when she switches fluidly from English to Spanish across the majority of Edge of the Abyss. There’s some real psycho-mania energy on display, as if Allanic’s performance comes from a mind ruptured by secrets not meant for mortals. Whether swaying into a sing-along verse (“Barely a Response”) or spitting out vocals like broken teeth (“WTF”), Allanic lands every stroke of her deranged performance with serious aplomb. Her guitar work impressively matches the lunacy via a skronky mathcore-esque freneticism.

If Allanic is the Tony Stark of this outfit, Parker and Taho are Captain America and Thor. Parker provides an especially fluid performance on drums, conducting the album’s rhythmic aims like a meth-addicted octopus as he rolls, blasts, and rides across the kit. He’s thick and punchy in the mix, standing toe-to-toe with Allanic’s churning guitar, knowing when to let a simple beat ride and when to start rolling bones under his double-bass. Taho’s bass playing gets lost in the shuffle on the album’s louder moments (one of the only metal sins Edge of the Abyss commits), but his tones are warm and resonant when audible, thrumming like a steady current to power the madness. Meanwhile, guest contributor Mazare steps in with Hawkeye-level assists, backboning and accenting the record with a slew of dancey beats and skittering keys that add to Edge of the Abyss’s eclectic—and unfettered—fun. The Latin American flavors are integrated well into this glitchy, chaotic stew, feeling authentic and purposeful rather than tacked on for “prog points.”

Metalcore has a tendency to get staid and repetitive, following a very tight structure emphasizing (if not entirely built around) breakdowns and uplifting, cleanly-delivered choruses. A good time, but whole albums can be hard sells for those not entirely beholden to the genre’s whims. On the opposite side, bands like The Dillinger Escape Plan or the aforementioned Poppy can be difficult commitments for me due to the mania that drives their sounds. I can get down with unhinged vocals and whiplash time signatures, but an entire album’s worth runs the risk of grating on my nerves. There’s a novelty factor at play, too, the threat of a “gimmick” overriding the listening experience. A band has to have something more guiding them; strong songwriting, variety, solid pacing… any and all of these go miles towards taking the parlor trick of “we can play 350 bpm” and transmogrifying it into an album you actually want to sit with.

Calva Louise might have easily fallen into this pit of wacky novelty, and I fully expected them to, on first listen. Yet they defied my odds with Edge of the Abyss. Every song has a life all its own, refusing to repeat ideas or fall into genre tropes (no wasteful intro tracks here!). Perhaps this sounds silly, but there’s a scrappiness that translates through the music, a DIY ethos which, despite the modern production, empowers the band’s efforts. Calva Louise sound hungry on Edge of the Abyss, like a tenacious creature throwing everything it has at survival. I’m reminded of early efforts by acts like Slipknot and Mudvayne—not sonically, but spiritually. A vitriolic commitment to artistic vision, in defiance of outcome, is something I’ve long admired. That Calva Louise is four albums deep and able to conjure this kind of energy is delightful.

Like when I sat down recently to watch Marvel’s Thunderbolts*,¹ I stepped into Edge of the Abyss stuck somewhere between frayed hope and pre-loaded disappointment. So far, 2025 hasn’t been the best year for new metal releases; barring a handful of standouts, most of what I’ve heard has sat well within the “okay” to “decent” territory—and much like Marvel’s output of the last decade, I was starting to get a little numb to it all. Luckily for me, hope won the day on both accounts.² Calva Louise was far more than I expected, an energetic, multicultural detonation of influences with an origin story befitting a Stan Lee “Excelsior!” Full of twisting genre shifts, infectious melodies, and one of my favorite vocal performances of the year, Edge of the Abyss is a precipice I wholly recommend pitching oneself into.

Recommended tracks: Tunnel Vision, WTF, Aimless, Lo Que Vale, El Umbral, Hate In Me
You may also like: Knife Bride, The Defect, Reliqa, Bex
Final verdict: 9/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Official Website | Facebook | Instagram | RateYourMusic

Label: Mascot Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Calva Louise is:
– Jess Allanic (guitars, vocals)
– Ben Parker (drums)
– Alizon Taho (bass)
With guests:
– Mazare (electronics)

1. Yes, the asterisk is part of the title. If you know, you know. ︎
2.  Thunderbolts* was refreshingly good. ︎

The post Review: Calva Louise – Edge of the Abyss 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.

Album art by Alex Tillbrook

Style: Alternative metal, alt-pop, djent (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: bruh it’s Sleep Token; VOLA meets Hozier plus, er, like, Imagine Dragons?
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: 9 May 2025

Today, in a special double review, Ian and Christopher take on the latest release by the biggest and perhaps most controversial band in the genre. Even in Arcadia, there are people arguing about Sleep Token!

Review by: Ian

I believe it was Sir Isaac Newton who said that “every sudden wave of hype produces an equal and opposite backlash”, and perhaps no other band today exemplifies that definitely real adage quite like Sleep Token. It’s strange to look back on the days of their initial rise, how this weird djent/R&B band from London with a Ghost-esque masking gimmick and an unusually skilled drummer exploded out of seemingly nowhere in early 2023 with a set of increasingly buzzed-about singles, culminating in the release of their blockbuster third album, Take Me Back To Eden. The countervailing surge of hatred was equally sudden, though in hindsight, not surprising. Heralded (though by no means solely initiated) by Anthony Fantano’s withering 2/10 panning of the album, they rapidly became the very definition of “uncool”¹, with many eagerly seizing upon Sleep Token‘s often unapologetically poppy songwriting and straightforward djent riffs as evidence of them being “not metal”²—a fake, pop band that you’d have to be some terminal poseur / Imagine Dragons fan / big dumb mouthbreathing coworker NPC to enjoy. 

And look, I’m not gonna sit here and tell you those criticisms were entirely baseless. TMBTE‘s attempts at straightforward pop music were indeed plasticky and unconvincing, burying Vessel’s otherwise interesting vocal timbre under suffocating layers of Autotune. And sure, much of the guitarwork felt far too basic to be sitting alongside II’s intricate, fluid drumming. But somehow… I still really liked it, dammit! For all its flaws, the album was a genuine evolution of the Sleep Token sound, an ambitious, widescreen expansion into more adventurous song structuring and genre switches with some seriously powerful, emotionally resonant melodic hooks. It’s not exactly topping my Album of the Year list, but there are people who act like this band is soulless nothing slop with zero redeeming qualities, and… I feel like we didn’t hear the same album.

But where does this leave us now? Well, Sleep Token sure as hell aren’t upstarts anymore. They’re one of the biggest bands in modern rock, possibly the biggest to come up this decade, with a massive, frighteningly devoted legion of fans and a nearly-as-vocal coalition of detractors. Thus, it was inevitable that their follow-up album, Even In Arcadia, would have massive expectations set upon it, for good and ill alike. And in terms of meeting those expectations, seven-plus minute opener “Look to Windward” is one hell of an initial salvo. Starting off with a slow burn of atmospheric, almost chiptune-esque synths beneath Vessel’s trademark croon before a barrage of pummeling guitars abruptly takes over, it comes across as a full-on showcase of every established part of the band’s sound. It’s got intricate drumming, simple yet gargantuan-sounding riffs, rattling trap percussion, and a vocal performance that ranges from smooth, cocky R&B verses to delicate, harmonized falsettos to withering, blackened screams—as if to say “We’re still Sleep Token and we can still do Sleep Token things, and do them damn well.” While it’s unlikely to convert any skeptics, it’s one of the best executions of their usual sound yet, and a reassuring reminder that their core competencies are still very much in place.

With the formula firmly re-established in the space of a single song, it’s time to sprinkle in some surprises, and that’s where subsequent song (and lead single) “Emergence” comes in. Its verses are some of the most rhythmically interesting stuff they’ve put out possibly ever, with II’s percussion sinuously twisting around some already rather syncopated vocal lines in a deliciously off-kilter clash, constantly teasing at downbeats that don’t quite arrive until the beautifully melodic choruses show up to dissipate the tension. Combine that with the gorgeous, delightfully surprising saxophone coda³ provided by Bilmuri‘s Gabi Rose, and you have yet more evidence that Sleep Token are still a decidedly progressive band despite their mainstream appeal. They’re prog in the same way that bands like Bent Knee are prog, not by having the wackiest time signatures or the weedliest solos, but by blending pop stylings with pieces of disparate genres to create a bold, adventurous sound full of stylistic and compositional left turns that defies easy categorization or comparison.

And it’s a damn good thing we’ve got that evidence, too, since unfortunately, Even In Arcadia‘s midsection gives plenty of signs that the prog gatekeepers may kinda have a point. While it’s all very competent, with some dutifully pleasant melodies and titanic, IMAX-ready chugs as per usual, much of tracks 3-8 feels like Sleep Token by the numbers, with precious few of the surprises that made previous songs like “The Summoning” so special. Tracks like “Dangerous” and “Provider” capably ratchet up the musical intensity from synthy atmosphere to elastic trap beats to stadium-filling guitar, but do little else with their musical structure, coming off a tad forgettable. The title track tries its best to be the type of achingly vulnerable piano ballad that they’ve done so well in the past, but is sabotaged by suffocating layers of movie-trailer overproduction, with only Vessel’s desperate, gritty final line managing enough emotional heft to strike a genuine chord through all the sludge. Most egregious is “Past Self”, a decent-yet-straightforward R&B snoozefest whose only surprise is that there are no surprises—no riffs, no genre mixing, just a synth arpeggio that could be coming out of a kid’s toy replica of a Legend of Zelda fairy fountain. Sure, there are bright spots—”Caramel” is a lyrically wrenching look at what it’s like to be on the receiving end of a ravenously parasocial fanbase, elevated by II’s drumming at its absolute crispest—but even that is undercut by “Provider” being a blatant wink and nudge toward the most fanatical, BookTok-horny elements of said parasocial fanbase just two songs later.

Thankfully, the last two tracks do a fair deal to right the ship. “Gethsemane” easily ranks up there with Sleep Token‘s absolute best tracks, spinning its soft, emotionally resonant falsetto intro into a shockingly intricate, mathy Midwest emo guitar riff, a long-awaited step up in complexity to stand side by side with the band’s drumming. Add in a chorus that reprises “Euclid”, quite possibly the most powerful, indelible chorus the band have ever written, and you’ve got me wondering where the hell this energy was for the past few tracks. Maybe it’s my inner sappy theater kid, but these melodramatic hooks still hit me straight in the heart no matter how overblown others may find them, and closer “Infinite Baths” keeps that streak going with aplomb. Its deliciously weepy, harmonized slow build into its gargantuan chorus is the sort of shit I eat right up, and the Pink Floyd reference in its atmospheric bridge was a fun touch. I’m a bit more mixed on its heavy closing section; though a final dose of aggression is certainly welcome in an album that is, on the whole, softer than its predecessor, it also feels like it’s spinning its wheels a tad, fading out without giving a proper conclusion.

“I know these chords are boring, but I can’t always be killing the game,” sings Vessel in “Damocles”, an apropos quote from a wildly inconsistent album in which, more than ever, the band’s aura of cult-like mysticism comes off as a thinly veiled metaphor for one decidedly mortal man’s insecurities and broken relationships. Sleep Token feel increasingly caught between contradictory impulses—the drive to innovate and push their sound forward versus the pressure to push out more of the same stuff that made them popular in the first place, the need to appease their suddenly massive fanbase versus the fear of said fans getting a little too into their music, the divine and spiritual versus the human body’s base desires… the acid versus the alkaline, one might say. The public, too, has been utterly polarized; as before, the fans of this band are going to hear an entirely different album than the haters. Yet, this time, I can hear both albums in equal measure, the innovative, heartfelt brilliance heard by the faithful existing alongside the dull, focus-grouped glurge that reaches the ears of the apostates. Perhaps this is a tightrope that Vessel and co. can continue to walk well enough, but as someone who was largely on the believers’ side beforehand, this represents a troubling shift. If it all looks like heaven but feels like hell… maybe you’re just in purgatory.

Ian’s final verdict: 6.5/10

Review by: Christopher

Metal has always suffered from a streak of elitism, bearded gatekeepers daring to pronounce upon what’s metal and what’s not, and the genre has always picked out enemies to pile upon. Avenged Sevenfold were roundly mocked for their hard rock sensibilities and emo aesthetic, virtually all of nu-metal was the subject of derision both deserved and unwarranted, and if you trust the people at Metal-Archives.com—and you shouldn’t—even prog stalwarts Between the Buried and Me are apparently not metal. The latest band to be stood in the corner and made to face the wall for their vnkvlt ways are Sleep Token, the bemasked UK group fronted by the anonymous Vessel, who claims to be the Earthly representative for an ancient deity called Sleep. The band’s amalgamation of djenting riffs, Hozier-grade sadboi pop, and libidinous RnB gloss has been met with cult-like fervour and impassioned denunciation in equal measure. Whether Sleep Token are or aren’t a) metal, b) progressive or c) good is—just like their deranged lore and Instagram posts that always begin with “Hark!” “Behold”—a matter of debate to be resolved by people who don’t wash. The band’s actual function within the musical ecosystem is a simple and time-tested one: plausible deniability for the alternative kids to claim they don’t like mainstream music while listening to something clearly deeply inspired by mainstream music and so popular in and of itself that it is, in fact, mainstream. 

Now, the blend of djent, mournful pop and hip-hop that Sleep Token peddle has, admittedly, never quite worked for me—I’m the dissenting voice in this double review, after all⁴—but on fourth album Even in Arcadia, the band have clearly lost their lustre. This Place Will Become Your Tomb was a solid work of alternative metal with a pop sheen, and the marriage of the two styles was fully consummated, carried with a poise similar to that of Denmark’s VOLA. Arcadia’s relationship with metal, however, is that of a checked-out divorced father visiting his kids every other weekend: he turns up, eventually, smelling strongly of whisky and he’s really phoning it in on this whole fatherhood thing. An unfortunately large percentage of Arcadia is Vessel’s self-pitying croons over generic RnB beats and enigmatically banal synths. When the band remember they have to include riffs in order to keep the charade alive, they’re dreadfully shoehorned. 

After a pretty successful opening number, “Emergence” settles into the banality which will come to plague Arcadia—even in Arcadia they have banality! Ancient deity Sleep has caught up with the noughties hip-hop scene, and he’s decided that his human conduit on Earth should communicate thusly. “Emergence” still has some Riffs and is a bit more compositionally finessed than the real duds in the latter half, but the, ahem, emergence of phat beats and Vessel’s generic RnB flow telegraph Arcadia’s imminent problems. Oh, and there’s a saxophone solo which appears with all the grace of a guest contribution that makes you go “oh, and there’s a saxophone solo”, possessed of a rather thin, midi-ish tone which did make me wonder if a saxophonist actually played on the record—it’s Gabi Rose and she does, and does so well, it’s the way that sax solo is mixed which I find strange to the ear (the violin solo on the title track, however, has no such credit and, therefore, may be synthesised). “Past Self” and “Caramel” lean into the type of quintessentially white hip-hop that’s plagued pop from the Backstreet Boys through Justin Timberlake all the way to post-Post Malone. The greater sin of “Caramel” is that it veers, without justification, into a heavier section with backing screams that seem completely out of place. And this happens over and over on Arcadia: Sleep Token are happy to practically stop a song so they can wedge in a requisite metal section. The riffs are no longer executed with the enthusiasm of the previous records, and there’s little energy expended to ensure the heavier and lighter elements blend smoothly. 

The more pop-centric tracks on older records still had heft: “Mine” built post-rock fashion from its jaunty synth motif into a thickly-riffed climax; the chant of “The Love You Want” was eventually accompanied in its final chorus by Car Bomb-esque wonky djent; and “Granite” allowed a thrumming eight string low-end to counter its otherwise typical poppiness. Frequently, the “heavy parts” on Arcadia’s offerings tend toward the strumming of thicc but generic bass lines in the chorus—at least on “Damocles”, Vessel has the self-awareness to admit “I know these chords are boring.” On “Gethsemane”, Sleep Token remember they were meant to record guitar parts, leading to Intervals-esque noodling that is at least engaging but feels a touch out of place. Still, this track tries out some ideas beyond the usual formula, be it Vessel’s frequent and rather refreshing utilisation of falsetto, or a bit of rhythmic start-stop in the choruses, and some better integrated djenting—even if all that is for naught when he ends up going back to the dull ol’ mid-tempo RnB. The problem is that while it wouldn’t be prudent or relevant to speculate as to Vessel’s race, his hip-hop credentials are akin to the average white middle manager’s. His flow, such as it is, barely varies, watering down every song it touches to one uninteresting idea. 

Refrains, meanwhile, are hammered home with desperate repetition, as if the band know that there are no true hooks here. How many times can you listen to a man repeat “So go ahead and wrap your arms around me, arms around me, arms around me” before you stick a butter knife in an electrical socket? Ignore my frazzled, smoking hair. Vessel’s rhyme scheme is steeped in a hip-hop flow but delivered like a sad giant workshopping his first ever diss track. Also, I don’t understand (and certainly don’t care to dig into) the lyrical themes. Supposedly, the band is centred around this eldritch terror called Sleep and is speaking His gospel, but most of Sleep Token’s lyrics are universal-yet-neutered paeans to a litany of situationships. Either Sleep Token is a failed sex cult run by a man lacking the raw sexual charisma of the late L. Ron Hubbard or Vessel is writing fanfic for his own “I’m being topped by an eldritch god”⁵ stories. Neither prospect is appealing.  

Now, those of you rooting for the prosecution in this double review will be baying for blood. But I can’t deny that Even in Arcadia has a handful of compelling moments: the tense build into the metal drop on opening number “Look to Windward” is skilfully done, even if the middle third of the track turns into a fifth-rate OneRepublic⁶ mimic. “Emergence” might not be inspired but it feels more like “classic” Sleep Token and has a sense of composition lacking elsewhere. Closing track “Infinite Baths”, despite the silly title, is the clear standout—indeed, Sleep Token have form for bookending their albums strongly. The build around halfway through the track sees string swells leading into a succession of actually thought-through djent riffs which are, again, compelling in a way that so much of Arcadia isn’t. Sleep Token understand tension and release. It’s one of their great strengths, and yet this album is almost devoid of it. 

With a little metal for the sake of keeping up appearances, Even in Arcadia leans harder into a sort of noughties hip-hop vibe that’s as purposeless as it is irritating. Vessel sings another round of curiously sexless erotic laments that are sure to keep his fans doxxing him, but the shtick is getting tired, and Sleep Token sound spent. The group’s cult-like fandom won’t notice the misstep, but this is a curiously uninspired outing for a band who, whether you consider them metal or not, are undeniably the biggest artist in the modern scene. Are Sleep Token metal? Who cares. The question you should be asking is “Am I getting old?” and you’re not gonna like the answer. 

Christopher’s final verdict: 4/10

Recommended tracks: Look to Windward, Emergence, Gethsemane, Infinite Baths
You may also like: Sermon, Rendezvous Point, Intrascendence

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

Label: RCA Records – Facebook | Official Website

Sleep Token is:
– Vessel (vocals, keyboards, guitars)
– II (drums)
With guests:
– Gabi Rose (saxophone on “Emergence”)

1. This very site is no exception, as is readily evidenced by the review accompanying mine. Enjoying these guys’ music is, shall we say, a… minority opinion around here. ︎
2. As someone who strongly views genre as something artists do rather than something they are, this whole debate perplexes me. I will simply say that Sleep Token are unambiguously a band that does metal, sometimes, and whether they spend a sufficiently large percentage of their runtime doing it to “be” metal will be left as an exercise for the people who actually give a shit. ︎
3. My fellow writer Andy called this part “cliche”, a take I would expect from someone who listens to car alarms and shrimp noises in his free time. ︎
4. Oh, you thought Ian’s 6.5 was mean? Just you wait. ︎
5.  Vessel might top or they might take it in turns. Let it never be said that this blog isn’t sex positive. ︎
6.  Remember OneRepublic? They released that one album, Dreaming Out Loud, in 2007. The most successful single was “Apologize” which Timbaland remixed. “Stop and Stare” was good, too. Then they disappeared and never made music again, or so I assumed until researching for this review which led me to the baffling discovery that they have 53 million Spotify monthly listeners and released their sixth album last year. Who the fuck is listening to OneRepublic in 2025?! ︎

The post Double Review: Sleep Token – Even in Arcadia appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

No artist credited

Style: Progressive Metal, Alternative Metal, Metalcore, Doom Metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Oathbreaker, Svalbard, Dawn of Ouroboros
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: 28 March 2025

One of my favorite current filmmakers is Robert Eggers. Across his four feature-length films (The VVitch, The Lighthouse, The Northman, and Nosferatu), he has deployed a sophisticated form of Gothic and Folk Horror drenched in bleak atmospheres and rigid historical framing, anointed in a blood-and-earth occultism pulled from mankind’s deepest, and darkest, spiritual roots. From this, he often conjures a visceral, powerful femininity at odds with patriarchal society’s desired—that is, demure—version. His witches are beguiling and primal, disposing of glamor for red-teethed hexcraft; mermaids tap into some mythic power to unmake man’s sanity; a would-be victim marks her captor with her own blood in violent defiance; a woman possessed of a spirit so emotionally resonant she can commune with forces across the cosmic gulf—and, so happens to be the only one capable of saving the very world which decried her gifts as hysterics.

Similarly, southern UK act Forlorn emerge as if from mist-choked fens to besiege our woefully ignorant “civilization” with vivid remembrances of Earth’s oldest nights. Inspired by horror cinema and headed by actual witch, Megan Jenkins, (in turn backed by her warlockian brothers-in-steel, Edd Kerton and Eathan White-Aldworth (guitars), James Tunstall (bass), and Jay Swinstead (drums)), Forlorn play a vicious blend of progressive metalcore and hardcore they’ve dubbed “folk horror.” Aether marks their debut full-length, following EP Sael in 2023 and a scattering of singles. Convinced by early releases like “Redeem, Release” and “Forsaken,” I was eager to sup of this witch’s brew.

Opener “Mother of Moon” establishes the album’s folk horror aspirations immediately with a summoner’s circle-worth of chanting and thundering buildup before fading into a smoky haze of silence. “Creatress” emerges from the silver-limned primordium like a seething nightmare, claws raking the bonfire-lit night with jagged riffage, cloven feet beating against the soil in a wash of energetic kit work as she howls her melancholy to the distant stars. The song is equal parts vicious and ethereal, with Jenkins’ plaintive cleans counterpointing her roiling growls. Razored chugs and tribal drumming give way to a brief black metal-flavored run of blast beats and rising tremolos, the bass burbling beneath like a promise sealed in blood.

This juxtaposition of haunting beauty and grinding, violent metalcore chaos is sown deep within Aether’s structure, yet no song feels derivative of its neighbor. “The Wailing” has a bounce and groove separate from “Creatress,” with Jenkins closing out on a moody invocation bringing to mind the hexen oeuvre of Gospel of the Witches’ Salem’s Wounds (2015). There’s something of Iridescent-era Silent Planet living in the throaty chugs comprising the main guitar line of “Funeral Pyre.” Jenkins channels the violent yet purifying nature of fire as she screams “I’ll see you all in Hell,” and pulls out some truly bestial lows for the song’s ending. “Keeper of the Well” carries whiffs of gothic doom amidst the grinding guitars, while closer “Spirit” completes this moonlit ritual with breathy gusto and visceral proclamation, promising “When the world splits open, I will be here” before intertwining with the aether of the natural world amidst punctuating guitars like ritual knives piercing flesh.

If I’ve any rune-carved bone to pick with Aether, I would point this particular rib at the “filler” tracks. At a lean 26 minutes and with only eight total offerings, sacrificing three to the altar of intro/interludes feels a tad wasteful. However, it’s hard to deny that, aside from “Mother of Moon,” both “Matrum Noctem” and “Veiled One” flow smoothly along the album’s leylines, to the point where I consistently forgot they were individual tracks and not extensions of their predecessors. I’m not usually one to demand more from a record, but in Aether’s case, I can’t help but crave more of this wicked mana surging through my ears.

Yet, if I’ve learned anything from witch movies, it’s that the longer a spell goes on, the greater chance there is of disaster. Forlorn have opted for quality over quantity. In so doing, they’ve ensured Aether never wanes. This choice encourages repeat listens, affording the participant time and space to really immerse themselves in the details, helped along by a punchy production empowering every element—from the emotive shifts in Jenkins’ voice, to the low-end buzz of Tunstall’s bass, and Swinstead’s tasty fills—to achieve maximum clarity and effect. The only victim here is some of the atmospheric elements, which can feel a bit lost in the fog, but if anything this adds to the fun of Aether’s replayability.

“Feel me in your skin, taste me in each breath,” Jenkins intones on “Spirit.”

Aether is a vessel of musical communion. A dark, beguiling fairy-tale of the Grimm variety, steeped in the primeval power of Nature and her forgotten children. Effortlessly summoning images of blazes in northern skies and deep, ancestral woods. A bridge back to ancient places from before mankind forsook the natural world and walled it away behind the cold, dehumanizing logic of modern civilization. Like Eggers’, Forlorn have crafted a viscerally feminine, occult work in Aether, one that—in a time where our mechanized patriarchal world feels increasingly hostile to the human spirit—offers the kind of comfort that helps music transcend “good” to become something great.

Recommended tracks: Creatress, The Wailing, Funeral Pyre, Keeper of the Well, Spirit
You may also like: Karyn Crisis’ Gospel of the Witches, Ithaca, Predatory Void, Venom Prison
Final verdict: 8.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram | RateYourMusic

Label: Church Road Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Forlorn is:
– Megan Jenkins (vocals)
– Edd Kerton (guitars)
– Eathan White-Aldworth (guitars)
– James Tunstall (bass)
– Jay Swinstead (drums)

The post Review: Forlorn – Aether appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by: Rachel Demetz

Style: Alternative Metal, Death Metal, Progressive Metal (Mixed Vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Arch Enemy, Jinjer, The Agonist, Ad Infinitum
Country: Spain
Release date: 25 April 2025

Anlage. Merriam-Webster defines it as “the foundation of a subsequent development.” It is a beginning, a description upheld and embodied by Spain’s femme-fatale metallic quartet, Indar, who more poetically outline it as an “essence, the first sprout that emerges from a sown seed.” Formed in 2020 in Barcelona, Indar have been nurturing this particular seed for five years; their first single, “Rotten Roots,” emerged in October 2023, with the fifth (and final), “Oxyde” arriving November 2024. Five months on and debut album Anlage has burst from the soil, in search of the nourishing light above.

Speaking of plants, I’m reminded of the 1989 Toho feature, Godzilla vs Biollante. In it, Godzilla’s cells are used to create a hybrid of plant and human when a scientist attempts to immortalize his dead daughter’s soul. After its initial “birth” where it attacks a team of saboteurs, Biollante flees into Lake Ashi and transforms into a mammoth rose-like entity. Later, it evolves again, its form taking on some of the dinosaur-like aspects of Godzilla—mirroring yet expanding upon its genetic inspiration, one could say.

Likewise, Indar’s breed of alternative metal finds their roots grasping at several possible influences: from vocalist Sara Parra’s venomous rasps bearing marks of Angela Gossow (ex-Arch Enemy), Defacing God-esque blackened melodeath rumblings (“Swallow,” “Oxyde,” “Udol,” “Nostalgia”), the echoes of gothic doom à la a rocked-out Red Moon Architect (“Rotten Roots”), to the Stolen Babies vibes lurking within “Prey” and “Goodbye Ground.” Parra’s cleans often hit with a clarity and power not unlike Nina Saeidi (Lowen), and the progressive-doom sprinkled throughout had me drawing frequent comparisons to her band.

Though their core sound never strays far from familiar, Indar are hardly imitation. Guitarist Karmen Muerza, for example, prefers rock-flavored riffing and black metal tremolos as opposed to, say, Michael Ammott’s (Arch Enemy) neoclassical pyrotechnics and anthemic death-dealing. She tends to fold her guitar into the general flow of songs, reinforcing as opposed to informing the direction of the music. Occasionally, she breaks out to impart some goth-doom flourish that wouldn’t feel out of place on a Draconian record (“Oxyde,” “Udol,” “Nostalgia”). The rest of the band follows similarly, with drummer Nana Nakanishi and bassist Marta Coscujuela providing a solid foundation for their compatriots to maneuver alongside. The result feels like a real team effort, every element cooperating to deliver on Indar’s moody, doomy, death-orbiting prog’n’roll—which, like the aforementioned Biollante, could hardly be mistaken for any of their perceived inspirations.

Where Indar struggle is with the very concept of anlage itself. Starting with the eponymous track (and opener), we are treated to the ever-popular dramatic synth instrumental. Expecting a segue into “Swallow” to really kick things off, I was surprised when all that drama simply… fizzled out into silence, leaving “Swallow” to start over and rendering “Anlage” meaningless. Worse, the two subsequent tracks (“Rotten Roots” and “Prey”) adhere to the same playbook, each building up before unfurling into the song-proper. This leaves Anlage’s front half kinetically inert. And while the individual tracks are entertaining in isolation, this interchangeability left me with a disappointing sense of arrested development. It’s not until “Goodbye Ground” that we get some momentum within the tracklisting, and by then Anlage has hit its midpoint. I’m not saying every track needs to jump headfirst into the waters, but in this case I think a little variety in the format would go a long way towards cultivating a more engaging album journey.

Fortunately, Anlage’s second act leads us to some of the group’s strongest offerings. “Oxyde” is an ear-perker, with Parra’s razored screams and breathy cleans cutting deliciously against the song’s gothic vibes. Follow-up “Udol” conjures occult bonfires blazing against the velvet skein of deep night with its ethereal vocal lines and at turns hammering-and-haunting melodeath—to say nothing of the earworm chorus and ascendant ritualism of “Nostalgia.” But closer “Thalassophobia” is where the band fully blooms into what feels like their final form, bursting from the sod with palpable energy and a lust for long-form life as they wend through nearly nine minutes of vivid melodeath, smoky doom passages, a hefty breakdown, and ethereal prog-death bass runs that wouldn’t feel out of place on Absolute Elsewhere-era Blood Incantation. Parra pulls from her entire repertoire, delivering vicious snarls and gorgeously resonant harmonies before the song hits a final trench run of kicked-up sonics and aggression.

Indar are clearly competent songwriters, and when they decide to cut loose it can lead to a lot of fun. However, the indecisive start-stop-start of Anlage’s opening act feels like a band uncertain of their own development. The comfort here is that Anlage itself is only a beginning: with their roots established, it will be interesting to see how Indar mature from here.

Recommended tracks: Oxyde, Udol, Nostalgia, Thalassophobia
You may also like: Eccentric Pendulum, Crystal Coffin, Guhts
Final verdict: 6.5/10

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

Label: LaRubiaProducciones – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Indar is:
– Sara Parra (vocals)
– Karmen Muerza (guitars)
– Marta Coscujuela (bass)
– Nana Nakanishi (drums)

The post Review: Indar – Anlage appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal, post-metal, alternative metal (instrumental)
Recommended for fans of: Tool, Pelican, Russian Circles
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: 14 March 2015

It’s instrumental, but it sure ain’t late-night jazz—Obelisks is a three-track EP by UK-based progressive metal band Midnight Jazz Club. Whatever the time of day, this release comes punctually: the early months of 2025 have filled my ears disproportionately with releases leaning into the more extreme ends of progressive music, and a melodic instrumental album is quite welcome. Whether Obelisks satisfies that craving, however, is another matter.

Midnight Jazz Club play a brand of instrumental prog with a style straddling the line between post- and alternative metal. The sonic landscapes they create are airy and broad, but there’s also an ever-present, energetic drive and groove—it’s all quite accessible and well-produced, reminiscent of a floatier Tool. Indeed, each of Obelisks’ three tracks reminds me of something gleaned right from Lateralus’s legendary title track. But even if the music sounds slightly derivative, it’s done well enough, and the band has a knack for writing tuneful riffs and melodies. The hook in “Refraction,” for example, sets an infectious, soaring guitar melody on top of a groovy underlying riff with an all-too-catchy chord progression. The band pulls the same trick out of the bag in “The Obelisk,” etching another enjoyable—though quite similar—hook. The verse riffs and bridges, too, have an entrancing pulse to them.

But the issue for me is that Obelisks sits in the odd spot of not having the technical wizardry that makes instrumental prog the spectacle that it can be, while also not having large dynamic sweeps or sufficiently detailed soundscapes to fill the space in the way an effective post-metal album might. Rather, the tracks are each a collection of progressive metal-by-numbers riffs and Tool-inspired bridges. There are no solos to be found, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but also no deep explorations in sound or composition. The songs all have the same feel and even the same set of limited dynamics.

To be sure, the components in each track evolve slightly as they’re repeated, offering rhythmic shifts and marginally differing arrangements. And the instruments are played well, with an active bass carrying along in a big Lateralus-like tone and a powerhouse drum performance—the last couple of minutes in “Crystalline” are particularly thunderous. The guitars, meanwhile, are tight and layered well. Yet the band never leaves the comfortable territory of “conventional riff here, pulsing bridge there.” The album proceeds along a relatively straight line, not taking the compelling detours one might hope for in a progressive instrumental work.  

And therein lies a problem: listening to Obelisks reminds less of the works by today’s renowned instrumental prog artists (take your pick) and more of a generic progressive metal album’s vocal-free reissue. The tracks’ sound and structures are stylized in such a way that would seem to accommodate a vocalist, and the instruments and compositions aren’t doing enough to add intrigue to that open musical space. Something needs to lead Obelisks. Vocals often fill such a role, but more instrumental detail and varied songwriting would do perfectly fine as well.

The upshot here is that Midnight Jazz Club deliver music that glides into the brain and stays there with zero friction. This makes for a pleasant albeit unnoticeable listen, ultimately at odds with the “progressive” label that the band identifies with. As Obelisks’ tracks carry along, I’m left waiting for a meaningful shift in feel, intensity, or compositional structure that never comes. Fortunately, the band is relatively new—Obelisks being their second proper release, both EPs—and I would bet they’re capable of pushing their style into more interesting and ambitious dimensions without sacrificing much of the catchiness that makes it accessible. Until then, my search for a satisfying melodic counterweight to this year’s extreme string of releases continues.

Recommended track: The Obelisk
You may also like: A Burial At Sea; Shy, Low
Final verdict: 4.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Independent

Midnight Jazz Club is:
– Chris Bowe (guitars)
– Chris Southern (guitars)
– Craig Rootham (bass)
– Tom Unwin (drums)

The post Review: Midnight Jazz Club – Obelisks appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Album Art by Mikko Parkkonen / Aarni Visuals

Style: Djent, Alternative Metal (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Spiritbox (earlier), VOLA, Voyager
Country: Finland
Release date: 14 February 2025

Probably one of the most frustrating things in general for musical critique is when there is overt obsession with comparing bands singularly to whatever band does their genre best or is the current flavor of the day/week/year. While helpful for establishing a baseline, it often can be a bit reductive in totality, as a summation of a separate piece of work to be “of another” in some aspect. With this in mind, most of us here try to do exactly that: establish baselines of what something will initially feel like without leaning too much on comparisons to known quantities to give a judgment on a body of work. So with that all out of the way, let’s get this out of the way: Rioghan is a female-led djenty alternative metal project, and as such the Spiritbox comparisons are immediate from the outset (It was even on our internal submission spreadsheet. It is inescapable!). 

On latest album Kept, the Finnish outfit compose their sound much in the way many of these newer wave of melody-oriented low tuned alt metal bands do: baseline riffs or djent motifs that pop their head in and out of a song to establish a groove, lush wall-of-sound choruses to evoke a pop or mainstream rock feel (while keeping the low tuned aspect), and intermittent diversions from these in different ways to remind you “yes, we are dynamic and nuanced”. It’s a formula because it does work at a baseline; if you are good enough composers and riff writers, with a sufficiently good vocalist, you are guaranteed to make something catchy and agreeable. So then the question becomes: is this an album to be Kept around for future listens?

“Dreams” opens Kept in a form exactly as mentioned before: orchestration sets the mood before everything drops in on a djent groove riff to get the head nodding. This drops off to a lower dynamic tom-groove verse, introducing vocalist Rioghan Darcy in a slightly breathy intimate tone, before moving to a more fully arranged vocal stack sound in the chorus. “Dreams” continues in a modern verse/chorus/verse song structure before ending with Kept’s first taste of harsh vocals over top of the original groove riff. “Hands” focuses a bit more on this harsh vocal sound, though it does make room, as most of these songs do, for at least a couple lush choruses. From here, the songs continue these patterns, with small diversions into more synth sound focus, particularly on “Edge” and “Distance”, and various degrees of clean/harsh vocal balance. 

“Hopes” becomes the first true side street taken on Kept, highlighting its alternative instrumentation with verses led along by drifting accordion and acoustic guitar strumming, before giving way to a violin solo. This song still contains the alternative/pop-esque chorus visits, but the focus on layering orchestration as opposed to a synth+low guitar wall of sound gives a pleasant contrast to the album, and honestly may be its highest point.  “Red” is a final taste of the band experimenting with alterations to their formula: earlier releases and bios allude to the fact they act one time collaborated with Leprous vocalist Einar Solberg, and “Red” feels like a potential remnant of that time, its rhythmic guitar motif being reminiscent of tacks from Pitfalls or Aphelion (the best Leprous albums, fight me nerds), with the drumming and bass stabs over this motif teasing that feel as well. Darcy floats over these parts gracefully, and the final payoff from the motif building constantly is satisfying. 

The instrumental sounds are all solid and well done, perhaps a bit in the way of being a bit too on-the-nose for the sound and genre to really pique interest—these are all the expected tones and feelings of these instruments for this current subset of alternative metal, so it’s a bit hard to grab at one and say anything about it necessarily except “yes, this sounds good”. The drums pound through the mix in that large boxy way, the guitars are sufficiently huge in the ears and menacing in that clean-cut pop-djent way, and the bass holds down what it needs to, ever so often popping in to say “I’m here too, I promise”. The vocals when clean are well performed, produced, and layered. The harsh vocals leave a bit to be desired, as Darcy’s harsh tone tends to come in a bit thin, high, and pushed, and succeed most when pushed a bit back or layered with singing, or built on themselves with much more scream layers. 

Overall, Kept is a decent showing for this well-trodden sound, though it doesn’t do much to separate itself from its peers. This album succeeds most with its choruses, which are genuinely well arranged, catchy, and get stuck in your head immediately. Everything around that serves mostly as connective tissue to those choruses, outside of the diversions mentioned on “Hopes” and “Red”, likely Kept’s most successful moments. If you like the current vibe of alternative low-tuned metal with a leaning for melody and big sound, this will definitely hit your ears well, though it may not change your world.

Recommended tracks: Dreams, Hopes, Red
You may also like: Glass Ocean, Maraton, Valis Ablaze, External
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Inverse Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Rioghan is:
– Rioghan Darcy (vocals)
– Teemu Liekkala (guitar & keys)
– Tero Luukkonen (guitar)
– Antti Varjanne (bass)
– Valtteri Revonkorpi (drums)

The post Review: Rioghan – Kept appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Album art by unknown

Style: Post-metal, hardcore, progressive metal, alternative metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: The Ocean, Cult of Luna, A Perfect Circle
Country: Germany
Release date: 24 January, 2025

I’m about to admit a cardinal sin that will strip me of all metal cred: I really fucking love alternative metal, especially when it’s good. Any day of the week, I can get down with A Perfect Circle, Tool, and System of a Down more than most of my reviewer compatriots can. I make fun of our glorious leader Sam for listening to Breaking Benjamin, but it’s because I too wished to find my place in ‘The Diary of Jane’ once upon a time. However, when I take a risk on alt metal, I end up with trash ninety-nine percent of the time. That one percent nets me something like Chevelle’s NIRATIAS, but that’s few and far between—especially when we’re dealing with the underground.

But why do I like the horrendous subgenre known as alternative metal? Despite being the de-facto tech/prog-death guy of the Subway, simplicity gets me sometimes. A catchy, anthemic chorus against a backdrop of screamed verses gets the neurons firing more than I care to confess, and that’s exactly what ‘Idol’, the opener of Causes did for me. The sudden shift from screams to a chorus that sounds just like A Perfect Circle driven by guest female vocalist Hannah Zieziula was enough to sell me on the album, but was it enough to net it within that one percent of, dare I say, good alt metal?

Like practically the entire subgenre, Causes is junk food metal, and while that could sound like an insult, they’re leagues ahead of their contemporaries Sleep Token and Jinjer. Unfortunately, Causes plays it incredibly safe. There aren’t any “riffs” as much as there are chugging rhythms backed by simple lead lines. There isn’t any crazy rhythmic fuckery in the drums, and I’m not even sure the bassist showed up to the studio. The real star of the show is the vocalist, who like the rest of the band, isn’t credited anywhere on the internet. He shifts from growls reminiscent of a gravellier Tomas Lindberg (At the Gates) to the silky cleans I’d expect of a hardcore/alt metal act.

Causes never tries to reinvent the wheel, and Haven wouldn’t need to if the album wasn’t so plain. ‘Leash’ is about the furthest the band veers into the post-metal-tinged sound they’ve promoted for themselves, and I’d only say so because of the breakdown and buildup that follows. But even after listening to Causes multiple times now, I struggle to remember much of anything besides the choruses of the first two songs and much of the third. Everything after these first three relatively cohesive pieces falls apart under the weight of subsequent tracks.. There are only so many tricks that can keep my attention from waning, and Haven use them all up in the first 18 minutes of the album.

This isn’t to say Causes is bad, more that Haven is just having a bit of an identity crisis. Bands rarely fuse the pummeling, brisk nature of hardcore and prog to great success because the two styles are constantly at odds with each other, and it’s exemplified here. ‘Wesen’, coming hot off the heels of ‘Leash’, may as well have been left on the cutting floor, as should’ve interlude track ‘Theia’. The former only serves as a foray into electronica to give the album a tad bit of eclecticism, the latter simply a poor buildup into the closer. The last two real songs on the album have all but run out of steam, and in an attempt to drag along its runtime, end up feeling bloated and unnecessary. ‘Rue’ should build into a fist-bumping chorus a la A Perfect Circle’s ‘Pet’, but seems to lack any direction in its overlong seven-minute runtime. Its singular string chug of a main riff began to grate on me by minute three, and by the time its screamed refrain came once more, I found my attention elsewhere. Meanwhile, closer ‘Ankou’ nearly captures that energy the first half of the album had, but flows through too many glacial repeated sections to keep it up.

I’ve ragged a lot on Causes because I hear a band who’ve just nearly got it. It, in this case, being a cohesive and enjoyable sound. Haven are pulled between the post-metal leanings of Hippotraktor and alt metal stylings, and once they’ve figured this tug-of-war out, they can then focus on capturing that lighting in a bottle they had going in Causes’ first few songs. The aggression and skill at building to a chorus is there, but the songwriting suffers as a lack of identity rears its ugly head early on. I can only give a disappointing verdict, and a bunch of well wishes to Haven in the future.

Recommended tracks: Idol, Causes, Leash
You may also like: Hippotraktor, Seyr
Final verdict: 5.5/10

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

Label: Argonauta Records – Official Website

Haven is:
– I can’t find credits anywhere on the internet. Haven please DM us on Instagram so I can add them!

The post Review: Haven – Causes appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: post-metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: The Moth Gatherer, In the Silence, Katatonia
Country: Sweden
Release date: 14 February 2025

Described as a post-metal collective (who in the post- genres isn’t a ‘collective’ these days?), Novarupta is a project headed by multi-instrumentalist Alex Stjernfeldt, whose CV includes co-founding the post-metal act The Moth Gatherer and death metal supergroup Grand Cadaver. Astral Sands is the project’s swansong, completing an interrelated tetralogy and shutting this chapter of Stjernfeldt’s creative journey. True to Novarupta’s ‘collective’ designation and its prior works, every track aside from the instrumental opener features a different vocalist—Stjernfeldt’s vision is for each track to stand as a singular experience and for Astral Sands to unfold as an evolving art project. Does Stjernfeldt, piloting his fleet of vocalists, deliver on this soaring vision, or does the project end with a crash landing? Astral, or asphalt? 

If anything can be said about Astral Sands, it’s that Stjernfeldt finds a sound and commits to it without wavering—a quality one wouldn’t expect from an album of alleged singular experiences. Each track settles into a slow-to-mid-paced rolling tempo, driven by a basic but pleasant bass and relatively simple but effective drums. The airy guitars create a gloomy, distant atmosphere, sparingly offering more traditional, heavier riffing to ground the listener. Stjernfeldt also weaves in synths, piano, and strings to augment the somber mood he has built. Add everything together, and Astral Sands ends up with a sound reminiscent of the darkened blend of alternative and melancholic—bordering on gothic—that Katatonia has refined to great success. Not bad company to be in, right?

Well, if Katatonia is the master of wielding this sound effectively, and bands like In the Silence and Aoria are skilled in the art, Novarupta is your everyday journeyman. Stjernfeldt creates a potent atmosphere in Astral Sands but doesn’t quite deliver the songwriting, dynamics, nuance, or production to make the atmosphere as impactful as it should be. Any expectations of compositional excellence are betrayed in the album’s first moments: the instrumental opener “Ensamstående Enastående” is, essentially, a modest melodic idea that’s dragged out for three minutes without enough context—it doesn’t lead into the next track or set the stage for the work as a whole. Fortunately, things quickly improve on the next track, “Seven Collides,” which is one of the album’s more complete songs, offering nicely layered guitars and a catchy blend of alternative and post-metal. Unfortunately, “Seven Collides” also overstays its welcome and runs beyond seven minutes despite not having seven minutes’ worth of compelling ideas. 

The rest of Astral Sands drifts along similarly—well-crafted moodiness but not enough compositional punch; no blunders, but no memorable highs. Some songs are short and have almost an alt-rock feel (“The Bullet Shines Before Impact”) and others take on more expansive structures (“Cosmographia”), but all rely just a bit too much on atmosphere while the underlying instrumentation could benefit from more variation. Similarly, although Stjernfeldt enlists eight different vocalists, the performances tend to run together. Each vocalist stays mainly in the middle of his register and sings with a tone sitting somewhere between apathy and angst. The most powerful moments, however, come when the vocals move outside this narrow range and embrace more contrast: the shouty verses of “Endless Joy,” the emotive beginning of “The Clay Keeps,” and the anguished yelling finishing the album in “Now We Are Here (At The Inevitable End).”

Astral Sands’ production also works against its success as an engaging, atmospheric experience. The mix is trebly and lacks warmth in its mids, causing it to sound hollow and inorganic—not the worst thing for an album of a deliberately dreary nature, but a slightly livelier mix would help provide some missing impact. The drums are also too loud, mostly at the guitars’ expense, with the crash cymbal in “Seven Collides” being a prime example and drowning out everything else. Add in a couple of other odd choices—the piercing synth in “Breathe Breathe” and the amp-breaking overdrive in the closing track—and it becomes hard to fully appreciate or immerse yourself in the atmosphere Stjernfeldt has crafted.

Ultimately, Astral Sands’ lack of compositional intrigue and variety undermines Stjernfeldt’s vision of an album of standalone tracks that unfold as an evolving piece of art—the songs roll along in the same middling vein. The album’s questionable production also does no favors for the immersive moodiness Stjernfeldt sought to create. All this said, Astral Sands is listenable enough; those who truly connect with its mood might even find it captivating. But in a crowded sky of dark, gloomy albums, Novarupta’s swansong doesn’t shine through. And with that, the answer to the question posed at the outset—astral, or asphalt—lies closer to the ground.

Recommended tracks: Cosmographia, The Bullet Shines Before Impact, The Clay Keeps
You may also like: Aoria, Manes
Final verdict: 4/10

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

Label: Suicide Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Novarupta is:
– Alex Stjernfeldt

The post Review: Novarupta – Astral Sands appeared first on The Progressive Subway.