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: Eirini Grammenou

Style: Progressive Metalcore (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Erra, Silent Planet, Thornhill (The Dark Pool), Polaris, Currents
Country: Greece
Release date: 30 May 2025

Little time was lost by my colleagues when it came to sniffing out facets of my musical inclinations. Some sides of a stone sparkle brighter than others, after all. As a result of their sleuthing, I’ve been dubbed “the metalcore guy;” a badge some may wear with shame, yet one I proudly present to the world. Works like Sempiternal (Bring Me The Horizon), The Death of Peace of Mind (Bad Omens), and Silent Planet’s entire discography rank amongst some of my favorite albums. There’s something activating about the dichotomy of hefty angst and (often) uplifting choruses, that vein of emotionality which inform the genre. Oh, and the breakdowns, of course. One can’t overlook a great, neck-snapping, back-throwing breakdown. I was thus presented with a recommendation: The Longing Light, debut EP from progressive metalcore newbies Nonlinear. Being the metalcore guy that I am, I accepted.

First things first. Please, oh please for the love of all that is right and good in this world, stop with the instrumental / ambient opening tracks. This is an issue that plagues more than metalcore, an infection of the wider metalsphere, and few are the bands who can properly justify the inclusion. EPs, by their very nature, offer limited listening capacity, and to waste one of those precious slots on such needless aurafarming veers close to criminal. I could overlook it if “Awakening” segued into list mate “Monochrome Chamber,” but it doesn’t. Instead, “Monochrome Chamber” hits reset on The Longing Light’s flow, offering up decidedly Silent Planet-flavored synths alongside a central riff that bends and skips like something out of the pre-Iridescent days. It’s a cool opening for a song, and feels far more natural than “Awakening.”

That said, what surprised me about Nonlinear is their ability to pull from a variety of different styles within the metalcore world. Most notably, The Longing Light features warping Silent Planet riffs and breakdowns (“Monochrome Chamber,” “The Longing Light”), uplifting pop-centered hooks and guitars à la early Polaris (“Reflections”), and the interplay between the roiling harshes and ethereal cleans courtesy of Erra. The record even features a trip hop-inspired instrumental at the midway point that calls to mind Post Human-era Bring Me The Horizon. And while this represents something of an identity crisis for the group, their newness cannot be overlooked. Hewing to influences is natural; metal of all stripes has been cannibalizing and laterally reproducing since pretty much its inception. Whether Nonlinear can shape these elements into something more recognizably their own is something only time can be sure of.

Where difficulties lie ahead, I fear, is less with appropriation of sound and more in the execution. To be clear, none of the performances here are bad, but neither are they activating in that special way great metalcore can be. The harsh vocals, while occasionally spicing things up with a good “blegh!” and a snarl here and there, come across rather one-dimensional and forced in their toughness, while the thinness of the cleans strip them of any real power. Yet, on “Reflections,” both approaches feel empowered by the Polaris-coded aesthetics in ways they struggle to provide on most of The Longing Light’s scant twenty-two minutes. Similarly, the music never really finds the hooks needed to grab the listener. “Reflections” probably comes closest, especially when it transitions from an introspective bridge into an ascendant closing moment as the drums build into a rumbling gallop around heaven-sent vocalization. Oddly enough, “Holding On” finds similar legs to stand on, despite being a short-lived instrumental; the trip hop groove and pulse-y synths forge an easy rhythm and vibe to settle into. “The Longing Light” seeks heartstring territory with its searching cleans, think-space carving breakdown, and writhing guitars, but never quite manages to pull off the sense of emotional authenticity required to succeed.

Nonlinear are trapped in a bit of an odd quandary. On one hand, their ability to incorporate various flavors of metalcore into their sound is admirable. But on the other, the band are perhaps using these sounds as crutches to hold up songwriting which otherwise lacks the necessary kung-fu grip. I’m a firm believer that iteration sits above originality when it comes to artistic pursuits. However, Nonlinear have yet to escape the shadows of their perceived influences and fully step into the light they long for, relying too much on recognizable moments to help them color within the lines of this largely paint-by-numbers sound. At the end of the day, The Longing Light is perfectly fine, but hardly essential. Luckily, Nonlinear have plenty of time to hone their craft. I have faith. After all, Bad Omens transitioned from a Bring Me The Horizon clone to writing The Death of Peace of Mind. Never say never. Keep looking for that light.

Recommended tracks: Reflections, Holding On, The Longing Light
You may also like: Save Your Last Breath, Artemis Rising, Simbulis
Final verdict: 5/10

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

Label: Independent

Nonlinear is:
– Konstantinos Chitas (clean vocals, guitar)
– Nikos Koudounas (bass)
– Alexander Louropoulos (guitar)
– Christos Papakonstantinou (drums)
– George Plaskasovitis (vocals)
With guests:
– Vrodex (feat. on “Holding On”)

The post Review: Nonlinear – The Longing Light appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Metalcore, mathcore (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Dillinger Escape Plan, Every Time I Die, Johnny Booth
Country: Georgia, United States
Release date: 16 May 2025

As a genre, mathcore often sounds like bands are throwing everything they’ve got at the wall just to see what sticks: syncopation, polymeters, dissonance, shit; take your pick. When bands don’t wield these components with careful aim, it leaves the wall a garish mosaic of incoherently smeared elements and dangling concepts. That said, when mathcore’s done well, and its rhythmic rebelliousness and explosive cacophony are anchored in abiding, ardent homage to its punk-rock parentage, the result is less a splatter of unchecked aggression and more a display of challenging, charged artistry. The Callous Daoboys’ previous offerings, however, have struck me as a bit too much shit-on-the-wall. Drawing on unmistakable influences from mathcore titans like Dillinger Escape Plan and Botch, the Daoboys stacked even more elements on top of genre staples like fluctuating rhythms, prevailingly harsh vocals, and intemperate aggression, adding in more synths than is typical of the genre, highly segmented compositions, and a dose of nu-metal. The resulting auditory fracas landed a little too frenetically for my ears. Back with their third full-length album, I Don’t Want to See You In Heaven, the question becomes: has the chaos crystallized?

I Don’t Want to See You In Heaven’s spoken word introduction frames the album as a cultural relic discovered three hundred years in the future and provides a sort of mission statement for the themes to be explored within. The narrator lists “heartbreak, anguish, frustration, infidelity, lust, addiction, divorce, and suffering”, before frontman Carson Pace’s screams burst open the first real track, “Schizophrenia Legacy”. Gangly guitar riffs hulk and lurch across the track’s shifting metres, setting a raucous pace for the album that roils at an urgently adrenalized boil.

This rawly emotional bombardment is punishing until it’s rewarding; overwhelming until it coheres; unrelenting until, six tracks in, it relents. The lush instrumental opening of “Lemon” provides some respite, but it’s no ballad, with insistently rhythmic guitar and almost jungly synths that call to mind The White Lotus’ subtly unsettling soundtrack. “Lemon” slides imperceptibly into the similarly understated “Body Horror for Birds”. These two tracks’ impact may be diminished by stacking them back-to-back in the midst of the album’s shrieking onslaught, but this brief respite in calmer waters is rich in reward: some of the more melodically lavish moments here, particularly from the synths and violin, are terrific. 

Pace describes I Don’t Want to See You in Heaven as a kind of personal artifact of his twenties, a “snapshot of 24-27”, and the Daoboys abide by this visceral personalness steadfastly. For all its boundary-pushing and shapeshifting, I Don’t Want to See You In Heaven rings with a familiar kind of MTV-coded emo/punk nostalgia. Listening to tracks like “Distracted by the Mona Lisa”, I could be standing on a stretch of sun-baked asphalt outside an early-aughts strip mall, showing a CD of this album to my friends as we pass by the video rental shop. 

The vocal performance takes centre stage, saturated with harrowed angst that is authentic if also at times lyrically corny¹. Trying to divorce the emotional resonance from Pace’s technical delivery would be foolish: his screams and rock-solid emo-tinted clean vocals throb with each of the emotions from the album’s opening mission statement in turn. The supporting musical cast wields everything from funky bass lines and spider-like scrabbling guitars to wrenchingly poignant violin and silky-smooth saxophone with skill, sometimes all within a few minutes. My one real gripe is that Amber Christman’s periodic violin interludes seem to be underserved by the album’s composition; if you’re going to have a violinist on force as a full-fledged member of your band, you should let them contribute more than just ornamental fringe. 

At fifty-seven minutes, I Don’t Want to See You in Heaven starts to stretch at the seams. For instance, nearly three minutes of rippling wordless vocal effects and delicate instrumentals could be cut from the start of closer “Country Song in Reverse” at no loss. But I wonder if the poise and patience that somewhat bloats the album’s runtime is part of what makes it work for me. While disparity and incongruity could be considered hallmarks of mathcore as a genre, they’re wielded more skillfully here than on the Callous Daoboys’ previous outings: transitions are less abrupt, and different ideas are given time to develop, instead being chucked at the wall one after another.

In pulling their chaos into a more deliberate shape, The Callous Daoboys have made something that sticks. The balance between emotional volatility and compositional control is what sets this fiercely personal yet tightly executed record apart from their earlier work.  I Don’t Want to See You in Heaven channels that timeless, angst-ridden need for catharsis through a funnel of technical precision and ambition, and the result is sure to leave a mark, whether you want it to or not.

Recommended tracks: Two-Headed Trout, Lemon, III. Country Song in Reverse
You may also like: The Number Twelve Looks Like You, Candiria, Benthos
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

Label: MNRK Heavy – Facebook | Official Website

The Callous Daoboys is:
Jackie Buckalew – Bass, backing vocals
Maddie Caffrey – Guitars
Amber Christman – Violin
Matthew Hague – Drums, backing vocals
Daniel Hodsdon – Guitars, backing vocals
Carson Pace – Lead vocals, synthesizers

With guests:
Rich Castillo – Saxophone 
Justin Young – Narration
Jake Howard – Additional production 
Adam Easterling – Guest vocals
Tyler Syphertt – Additional vocals
Ryan Hunter — Guest vocals
Dawson Beck – Backing vocals
Allan Romero – Trumpets, trombones, and saxophone
Andrew Spann – Guest vocals

1. “You should know by now that it’s not cool to wear metalcore t-shirts around your family / It doesn’t make you interesting at all” is a little on the nose, no? ︎

The post Review: The Callous Daoboys – I Don’t Want to See You in Heaven 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.

Style: Djent, metalcore (Instrumental)
Recommended for fans of: Vildhjarta, Monuments, Northlane, Periphery
Country: France
Release date: 10 April 2025

In chromatically sparse but rhythmically dense genres like djent, repetition and evolution is the simplest key to success—artists like Meshuggah and VOLA thrive on taking a single idea and letting their imaginations mash and contort its crooked rhythms to their heart’s desire. While it’s undoubtedly possible to tastefully execute a more stream-of-consciousness approach, the end result often comes closer to Aaru than Between the Buried and Me in the wrong hands. So where does that leave French multi-instrumentalist Ares on his seventh full-length record, Human Algorithm…? Will he stay on the tried-and-true path of constant marginal change or eschew the Djent Algorithm for more adventurous pieces?

Well, one track in and the listener can glean all there is to know about Human Algorithm…: moaning lead guitars underlie chunky 01110—10-10 grooves, repeated ad nauseam until Ares has decided the dueling guitars have suffered for long enough. Variations so subtle that they push the definition of ‘variation’ do occur, but the overall soundscape never changes—every track boasts a singular idea, a singular mood, and a singular groove that haphazardly dances around nebulous lead guitar work. To claim that either of these elements take the spotlight would be a misrepresentation: the experience is closer to having your attention drift between the two as you get bored of whatever you happen to be focusing on. Occasionally, the monotony is broken up by spoken-word sections that are either clichéd into oblivion and distastefully used (“Going Mad”) or performed by the dorkiest men you can imagine (“Edicius”).

The guitar leads on Human Algorithm… are by far the more grating of the two key elements. As expected of the name, you’d think they’d play some role in musical progression, but in an ironic twist of fate, very little is actually led by these guitars. For the vast majority of Human Algorithm…, they are conscribed to repeat featureless melodic fills until the guitar’s B and E strings break. Glimpses of melody and catchiness emerge on some of the repeated ideas on “Surpressure”, but the rest of the time, the timbre of the leads is like a shrill whine, conspiring with the dearth of melody to create an unintentional wall of tinnitus. The rhythm guitars are much more palatable than the album’s leads, but to call them ‘good’ would be an overstatement. While never grating, the underlying chugs tend to aimlessly lumber along, adding little more to the compositions than a respite when the lead guitars become too piercing to pay attention to. The voice-overs do little to help the music, either—the topics covered are quite serious, including societal critique and suicide, but it’s hard to meet clips like the one on “Edicius” at their level when they’re delivered by a guy who sounds like an Orson Welles impersonator that teaches accounting at a community college.

In its final hours, an aural hail-mary is delivered: a semblance of compositional variation comes in to yank the listener out of instrumental waterboarding. I am not exaggerating my jarred surprise at “Schizophrenia’s” singular tempo change near its end or the acoustic guitar breakdown of “Human Algorithm”, as by the time they surface, I had completely given up hope for tracks with multiple sections. What’s more, the title track manages to take advantage of the chunky rhythm work, laying down a fun stop-start groove to lead its center section. In absolutely no way do these pieces make up for the mind-numbing deluge that precedes them, but when you’re desperately clawing for variation after thirty minutes of stagnant djenty metalcore, it’s like a breath of fresh air.

Repetition is the bread and butter of djent, but everything should be taken in moderation, even moderation. Human Algorithm… is much too content in its musical ideas, ruminating on them for far longer than is enjoyable or even tolerable in some cases. When Ares does break the mold and tries for more quote-unquote ‘adventurous’ songwriting styles, the result is decent but hardly enough to save a record fraught with dorky voice-overs, featureless grooves, and equally featureless and endlessly grating lead guitars.

Recommended tracks: Human Algorithm, Schizophrenia
You may also like: Aaru, Uneven Structure, Auras, Ever Forthright
Final verdict: 3/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Facebook

Label: Independent

Ares is:
– Ares (everything)

The post Review: Ares – Human Algorithm… appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Melodic death metal, metalcore, progressive metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Dark Tranquillity, Orbit Culture, In Flames, Arch Enemy, Lamb of God
Country: Finland
Release date: 25 April 2025

One of the biggest draws to metal as a genre is the fact that, at this point, it’s hardly a genre in any meaningful sense. If you choose carefully, you can pick about a hundred different bands from different corners of the metal universe, and not a single one will sound anything like another—their only commonality being the overarching genre tag they hold haphazardly. No matter your taste or mood, there’s something for you within metal’s vast expanse: fast and riffy, dissonant and crushing, introspective and atmospheric, technical, accessible, melancholic, heady, visceral, you get the point. The more my taste matures, the wilder it gets, and the more time I spend wandering the genre’s outer reaches. But sometimes the monkey part of my brain pulls me back toward the center. Give me some groovy riffs and shiny melodic leads, and I’ll forget all about that eighteen-minute, dissonant, avant-black track in the queue.

Enter Echoes of the Extinct with their debut LP Era of Darkness. I don’t mean to paint the album as overly simple—it has some progressive leanings and blistering chops—but primarily, these Finns center their sound on big, chugging guitars augmented by melodic death metal flairs. Clocking in at an even thirty minutes, Era of Darkness promises a quick, satisfying fix of head-bashing music; something to knock those primal cravings into submission so I can get back to whatever pretentious subgenre of a subgenre I was exploring. So, how does this jaunt toward the center of the metal universe fare? 

Drawing inspiration from their Nordic neighbors, Echoes of the Extinct’s guitars fill Era of Darkness with Gothenburg-style riffing and leads, and the vocal delivery often resembles the likes of Dark Tranquillity and In Flames. The straightforward melodeath influence shines brightest during choruses, those in “Empathy” and “Virus” sounding like they were plucked right from the late ‘90s Gothenburg scene: riffy, melodic, catchy, and energized without being overly technical. Although generic, the band does the style justice. But these melodeath features lie atop and decorate a metalcore-tinged foundation of heavy, rolling chugs reminiscent of Orbit Culture. In theory, these styles should coalesce in an extremely digestible mix of groovin’ low-string riffs balanced by faster melodic ones, shimmering leads, and big hooks—something to get the blood pumping and the head bobbing. In practice, though, that’s not how Era of Darkness plays out. 

For an album reliant on groove, Era of Darkness never lets you settle into a rhythm for long. Right when a nod-inducing pattern begins to take hold, Echoes of the Extinct take you somewhere else—they either speed you up and abruptly send you back to Gothenburg, or move you over to a different set of chugs that don’t quite complement the ones before. The experience is one of whiplash, stylistically and physically. “Last Page,” for example, is composed almost entirely on top of chugs, yet locking onto the underlying rhythm is like playing a game of whack-a-mole. The middle of “Virus” similarly bounces the listener around aimlessly, which is unfortunate because the track is bookended by some of the album’s catchiest melodeath material. The guitar and drum parts in “Virus” were evidently written independently and then put together, and it shows—in fact, the drum-guitar connection feels out of sync throughout the entire album. Still, it’s the penultimate track “Conflict” that’s the hardest to follow, as an all too fraught combination of styles, passages, and rhythms is packed almost randomly into less than a four-minute runtime. The band manufactures complexity when flow is what’s sorely needed.

To be sure, Echoes of the Extinct display potential. Although far from innovative, the interplay between the guitars is mature beyond what you’d expect from a debut, and the most enjoyable aspect of Era of Darkness is how well the lead melodies play off the foundational riffs. The vocalist also turns in a solid performance, with his strong choruses and sense of timing bringing some focus to an uncentered album. Perhaps a forgivable sign of youthful exuberance, Echoes of the Extinct simply stuff too much into a thirty-minute release. As a result, no one part stands out. Providing the numerous ideas room to breathe, and giving deeper thought to how and why one passage leads to the next, would have helped untangle the album into a more coherent experience for the listener. Opening tracks “Remedy” and “Empathy” are the most comprehensible and come closest to that impactful, squarely “metal” sound the album was poised to deliver, but on the whole, Era of Darkness misses the mark.

Alas, my trip back toward the center of the metal universe was an unsuccessful one. The should-be-satisfying groove and Gothenburg elements of Era of Darkness are marred by disjointed songwriting, and without flowing more naturally, the tracks’ component pieces aren’t compelling enough to stand on their own. But, while I’m here near the center, I may as well indulge—Dark Tranquillity’s Character should do. Then it’s back to those outer reaches, to answer important questions like whether an experimental drone and doom metal track justifies its thirty-five-minute runtime.

Recommended tracks: Remedy, Empathy
You may also like: Aversed, Allegaeon, Burial in the Sky
Final verdict: 4.5/10

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

Label: Inverse Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Echoes of the Extinct is:
– Kalle Hautalampi (bass)
– Jarmo Jääskeläinen (drums)
– Juuso Lehtonen (guitars)
– Tero Ollilainen (vocals)

The post Review: Echoes of the Extinct – Era of Darkness appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

No artist credited

Style: Metalcore, Groove Metal, Progressive Metal (Mixed Vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Gojira, Fit for an Autopsy, Machine Head
Country: France
Release date: 7 March 2025

“Bro, what if we like, wrote a progressive metal album about like, space and science and shit? And like, what if we called it like, Andromeda?” 

“Broooooo…”

Conversations like this one are how I like to imagine the conceit behind Andromeda was brought forth unto this meager plane of existence. A group of friends smoking pot in some nondescript basement, listening to the classics and daydreaming of adding to the legacy of the music they are so enamored with. Enter French progressive metallers March of Scylla, who play a moderately paced form of quasi-progressive metalcore with plenty of groove metal thrown in. I say quasi-progressive because while there are certainly hints and shades of stylistic choices that are reminiscent of progressive metal, I would be hard pressed to claim this record for the genre proper. Most of the music on Andromeda consists of chugs, gallops, and other metalcore platitudes accompanied by a somewhat pitchy mixed vocal performance, but there is a spark of potential to be read in between the lines.

Album opener “Ulysses’ Lies” starts with a relatively engaging chug riff that reminds me of something Fit for an Autopsy would do, but the track quickly devolves into a verse full of questionable harmonies that culminates in a merely passable chorus. The intro riff repeats again and again now acting as a bridge, and the songwriting just goes in circles for five minutes until the song is over. The experience is very formulaic, and the end result is that Andromeda’s first impression is that of a neutered version of various influences attempting to be more than the sum of their parts. For the forty five-plus minutes that follow, this same feeling of middling half-effort persists to mind-numbing effect. From the Fit for an Autopsy-esque riffs mentioned earlier to chorus melodies that sound like demo versions of No Consequence songs; the dreary post metal atmosphere reminiscent of Hypno5e; and even a healthy dose of groove metal influence taken from Gojira. All of these influences sound good together on paper, but leave something to be desired when put into practice on Andromeda.

Not helping the feeling of tediousness is the production job. A disproportionate amount of attention is given to making the rhythm guitars “heavy” or “beefy” that just ends up drowning out other intricacies of the instrumentation. Similarly, the drums are VERY LOUD and the cymbals in particular are distractingly quantized at points (“Death Experience”). Entire orchestral scores that could have added depth and texture to the soundscape go by completely unnoticed unless you strain your ear to hear them. The only attempt at dynamics is on “To Cassiopeia”: an interlude track that could have been left out altogether without affecting the pacing of the album at all.

Hope is not completely lost for March of Scylla, however; interesting songwriting moments do pop their head up here and there, but I’ve noticed that they are mostly during the interstitial parts of songs. Smart use of leading tones and engaging harmonics during transitions make my ears perk up; but that the main grooves and choruses often don’t often live up to the hype is a shame. The choruses are the lesser offender, though, I enjoy the vocalist’s timbre and—while the pitch can be shaky—his performance is a generally positive aspect of the experience for me. The second half of Andromeda picks up the pace a bit as well with marginally faster song tempos and even some sporadic blast beats thrown in for good measure. Despite all of these silver linings, Andromeda still overstays its welcome with a bloated run time of over fifty minutes.

Regardless of all of the criticisms I have levied here, some underlying potential still lurks underneath the surface of Andromeda. The songwriting is gestural and over-reliant on hackneyed “progressive” metalcore tropes, but a prospective throughline that could be teased out and forged into a unique sound is there. A substantial amount of work would be required, but March of Scylla do have a chance to transcend their influences and justify the over-explored sounds of Andromeda on future releases. Just stay away from Nibiru please.

Recommended tracks: Ulysses’ Lies, Storm Dancer, Achilles’ Choice
You may also like: No Consequence, Hypno5e, Grorr
Final verdict: 4/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Klonosphere Records – Facebook | Official Website

March of Scylla is:
– Christofer Fraisier (guitars)
– Gilles Masson (drums)
– Robert Desbiendras (bass)
– Florian Vasseur (vocals)

The post Review: March of Scylla – Andromeda appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by Yann Kempen & Bertrand Lefebvre

Style: Progressive Metal, Djent, Metalcore (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Between the Buried and Me, Protest the Hero, Animals As Leaders
Country: New York, United States
Release date: 7 March 2025

Is it euphoric for you when Animals As Leaders writes distorted riffs on the low strings like they used to? Does Between the Buried and Me’s Tommy Rogers’ voice give you goosebumps? What about the soaring guitar melodies of Protest the Hero? Do you like the absolute wankiest stuff from Dream Theater? Then go listen to those bands. Fine lines exist between influence, homage, and unbridled derivation. Unfortunately, Frogg’s Eclipse mostly falls into the last category.

Throwing all of those influences—artists that I love—into a blender should produce a filling and thirst quenching superdrink for me. However, being from New York, Frogg seems to take less of a smoothie approach and opts to operate a schizophrenic pizza potluck: a slice from the Dream Theater cheese frisbee, a piece from the BTBAM doughmain, one with a big air bubble (love those) from Protest the Hero’s mozza mass, and so on through some well-known prog pizza pies. You’re rarely tasting all of these at once. Each moment—section to section, song to song, even measure to measure at times—is like taking a bite out of a different piece of this Frankenstein (Froggenstein? Let’s workshop that) dough disc. Crust almighty, is it erratic. The result is an LP that lacks any and all individuality—a haphazard buffet of reheated slices.

But like the totality of an Eclipse, there’s a shining, awe-inspiring solar corona here. “Wake Up” has a few moments of beautiful brilliance, like its happy shred-tastic intro and its gorgeous, pop-infused chorus, which features a clean vocal line sailing on solar winds over the top of a punchy, harmonious metalcore riff. I enjoy the entirety of “Double Vision Roll,” which has some bobbing, rowing guitar grooves, and tasteful solos to boot. Yet, for every enjoyable bite, I have to wash it down with a flat Diet Djent, or contemplate if I should pay attention to yet another overdressed Note Salad—or ask myself why I’m eating stale breadstick transitions when I’m already getting plenty of carbs from the chord calculus crust. These missteps aren’t isolated moments in one song or another, but the entire concept at the Eclipse Pizzeria.¹

If Frogg ever tours in my area, I could see myself doing dinner (pizza, of course) and then their show. I can’t deny that each member is a fantastic musician, and the level of technical skill on display here could be a fun live experience. Sky Clark’s vocals are powerful and simultaneously guttural and raspy—just how I like harsh vocal work. Despite their unrelenting onslaught, guitarists Brett Fairchild and double-duty Sky Clark are fretboard wizards, simultaneously providing most of the cheese. Bass lines from Nick Thorpe² do more than just add weight to make the songs heavy, but can flex some melodic muscle, cut through the mix, and provide more character to a piece (“Sun Stealer,” “Walpurgisnacht”). Driving all of this insanity with steadfast percussive grit is Will Brown—sprinkling on the oregano with a whimsical fill here and there for good measure. Though, a great dine-in experience doesn’t necessarily translate to satisfying takeout.

So, with a few enjoyable songs or moments, impressive musicians, and stark influence from some of the greatest progressive metal bands, why be this down on the album? Maybe I was hoping that, with all of those influences, this Frogg would be taking a leap instead of mostly just sitting pretty on the prog lily pad—tossing the dough repeatedly while trying to come up with a recipe of their own. I wish that Eclipse coalesced into a more satisfying, distinct musical experience, but the more seasoned foodies will probably look elsewhere.

Recommended tracks: “Wake Up,” “Double Vision Roll,” “Walpurgisnacht”
You may also like: Atlantis Chronicles, Interloper, Rototypical
Final verdict: 4/10

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

Label: Self-Release

Frogg is:
– Will Brown (drums)
– Sky Moon Clark (vocals & guitar)
– Brett Fairchild (guitar)
– Ethan Emery (bass)

1. I may or may not have been waiting for the delivery of, eaten, and then regretted consuming a pizza while writing this. Apologies. ︎
2. Nick Thorpe is credited as bass player on most of the album’s tracks, but is not in the live/current band line up. ︎

The post Review: Frogg – Eclipse appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: groove metal, metalcore, djent (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Avenged Sevenfold, Spiritbox, Gojira, Lamb of God, Meshuggah
Country: Ukraine
Release date: 7 February 2025

Is groove metal a real genre? Some people make the claim, but I’m not so sure. Google may say it’s a genre defined by chugging, palm muted guitarwork with extensive use of double bass pedals and downtuned guitars, but does that not describe the entirety of modern metal? And if something isn’t groove metal does it mean it can’t be groovy? For something seemingly so ubiquitous, there really is no clear or satisfying definition, and it’s almost certainly easier to just identify groove metal releases as they come up. Thankfully, Jinjer makes it easy for us on their latest release Duél.

For any groove-based genre, a strong rhythm section is paramount. Thankfully, after honing their sound on 2019’s Macro and 2021’s Wallflowers, bassist Eugene Abdukhanov and drummer “Vladi” Ulasevich have delivered what is undoubtedly the best performances of their career on Duél, leaving no doubt that Jinjer has their rhythm section covered. Adventurous slaps and pops that wouldn’t sound out of place on a Job for a Cowboy track accentuate the decidedly tight drumwork in the album’s heavier moments while tasteful bass breaks and intelligent cymbal use highlight the lighter sections on tracks like “Tumbleweed.” The guitarwork courtesy of Roman Ibramkhalilov nestles neatly into the remaining sonic space, rarely adventuring out into the open but leaving its mark when it does during moments like the brief solo of “Green Serpent.”

Still, Jinjer remains a decidedly vocal-centric band, and Tatiana Shmayluk remains one of the most dynamic vocalists in the modern metal scene. Spewing catty witticisms left and right, Tatiana’s vocals run the gamut from gentle croons to harsh bellowing lows and searing highs. Romps like “Rogue” and “Fast Draw” get down and dirty with their straight ahead heaviness, while tracks like “Kafka” and “Someone’s Daughter” do well to show off Tatiana’s vocal range with their proggy yet lean song structures. Unfortunately, Duél remains plagued by what is perhaps my biggest pet peeve in regards to Jinjer, and that is the lyrical emphasis. To put it simply, it often sounds like one too many syllables are squeezed into a phrase making the whole thing feel off kilter, especially during the clean vocal sections. Perhaps it’s a symptom of a band writing in their second language, but I can’t always fully jive with the seeming lack of flow in the clean vocal patterns.

Unfortunately, that lack of flow also seeps into the track listing. At an already lean forty-three minutes and with no track exceeding five minutes, Duél is a brisk listen, but I am not so sure that each track earns its fair keep. For every “Green Serpent” or “Fast Draw” on the track list that engages the listener with its dynamic snowballing riffage or vibrant raw intensity, there’s a “Rogue” or “Dark Bile” that gets bogged down in its verse-chorus-verse song structure and overall sameness. In individual chunks, Duél is peachy keen, but the totality is a disjointed album experience full of ups and downs that leaves me satisfied in parts but ultimately miffed by the time the album’s closer rolls around, especially with its goofy false ending.

Jinjer seems to have honed in on their sound on their past few releases, and Duél sets the band’s proggy blend of groove metal and metalcore in stone. Featuring what is undoubtedly the best production treatment that the band has had yet, the album is the product of four amazingly talented musicians operating at the top of their respective craft yet getting lost in the finer details of the album as a whole. I know that Jinjer has a genuine magnum opus somewhere in their future, but it seems as though Duél is just another stepping stone along that path.

Recommended tracks: Green Serpent, Kafka, Someone’s Daughter
You may also like: Dawn of Ouroboros, Vintersea, Rannoch
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Napalm Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Jinjer is:
– Tatiana Shmayluk (vocals)
– Roman Ibramkhalilov (guitars)
– “Vladi” Ulasevich (drums)
– Eugene Abdukhanov (bass)

The post Review: Jinjer – Duél appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive metal, melodic death metal, metalcore? (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Devin Townsend, Gojira, Meshuggah
Country: France
Release date: 11 October, 2024

On a long enough timeline, everything exhausts inspiration from its Source. Dream Theater combining the technicality and dynamics of 70s prog rock with metal sensibilities was really cool and novel for the time, but unfortunately led to millions of prog bands going “Dude, there should be a 13/28 and 3/4 alternating section, and then a little keyboard interlude.” The bigger the band, the more copycats are going to come out of the woodwork in a vain attempt to capture what makes their inspiration great. Omnerod likely studied the hell out of Coal-era Leprous and most of Devin Townsend’s infinite body of work to achieve a sound they were happy with. But it takes more than a cursory glance at one’s inspirations to really figure out what makes them great.

Furthermore, I believe that prog is all about pushing the boundaries of where your inspirations dare not touch. Instead of going in the more melodic direction like Einar’s band of Norwegians did, Omnerod decided to add in just the right amount of dissonance to make The Amnesal Rise extra spicy. Nor is there anything wrong with becoming a worship band, so long as you have a good sense of humor about it: Atavistia decided to do Time II better than Jari did, after all. Kozoria, much to my dismay, fall into my least favorite category of “bands with obvious inspiration.” The category that’s devoid of inspiration. 

It sounds harsh, but I also don’t mean it to be completely insulting. One listen to opener ‘Pandora’s Box’, and you’ll find all the From Mars to Sirius-isms packed into six minutes. While the first riff may sound a little adventurous, it quickly devolves into abuse of the chuggy-chuggy-dissonant chord pattern. While the chorus is explosive, there’s not a whole lot of heft beforehand to back it up. Kozoria’s issue throughout the entire album is each song meanders along until the epic sounding chorus, and while that should be enough to activate the cave-neurons within me, it leaves me feeling a bit deflated by the end.

It’s only when Kozoria decide to get out of their comfort zone a little bit that things get the least bit interesting. On ‘We’re Wolves’, they eschew their preestablished formula to delve into a thrash metal riff before the—you guessed it—super cinematic and epic chorus. However, with that being the seventh track on a nine-track album, there’s not enough adventure to make anything stick, despite multiple listens. ‘Demonize Them’ attempts to somehow outdo the theatrics of the opener, and while vocalist Julien Perdereau has the range to back up the constant barrage of ideas, the instrumentation doesn’t lend itself to much of anything interesting. There are arrays of Devin Townsend’s theatrics and metalcore, late Sylosis  aggression, but none of it amounts to much of anything substantial. 

Gojira understand the physical weight that comes from the combination of their crushing riffs and Joe Duplaintier’s monstrous vocals. Instead of taking that formula and modulating it through the lens of thrash—or any other subgenre for that matter—Kozoria seem to really be deadset on the Gojira comparisons. What makes me even more upset about their refusal to do anything remotely interesting is they’re all clearly talented musicians. The Source is a well recorded and great sounding album, and the ideas are on the verge of sticking, but need a little more adhesive to make them set.

I was dreading the nearly nine-minute closer title track, but it actually turned out to be my favorite upon multiple listens. Here, Kozoria let things bubble and simmer a little, and let Perdereau’s voice carry the beginning section, the eventual dramatics working because Kozoria set the foundation during the first two minutes. If a deeper understanding of how to pace songs like this was all over the record, I could see this being a point higher. While the chuggy-chuggys are still overly prevalent, the softer sections help The Source end on a relatively high note.

Kozoria seem to have taken their sweet time making this, and it’s honestly disappointing that this is all they have to show for it. A band who are all clearly talented should be trying to spread their wings and finding their own sound, not shoehorn inspiration from more popular ones. I really hope that Kozoria find it in them to continue in finding their signature sound. They’ve got all the right ingredients, but need to deviate a bit farther from their fellow Frenchman to really stand above. 

Recommended tracks: The Source, We’re Wolves
You may also like: Omnerod
Final verdict: 5/10

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

Label: Black Lion Records – Bandcamp | Facebook

Kozoria is:
– Pierre Gelinotte (drums)
– Kevin Delcourt (guitars)
– Julian Perdereau (vocals, guitars)

– Bertrand Janicot (bass)

The post Review: Kozoria – The Source appeared first on The Progressive Subway.