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.

Style: raw black metal, post-black metal, Son Cubano (mixed vocals, mostly harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Sadness, Buena Vista Social Club, Willie Colón, Violet Cold
Country: Chile
Release date: 11 July 2025

One of my favorite aspects of metal is how well it can syncretize with any other genre¹. In my last couple reviews, I’ve done a bit of stylistic globetrotting for the blog, covering death metal mixed with Andalusian flamenco and heavy metal centered around traditional Byzantine chant. Today’s record of focus, To Escape’s debut I Wish to Escape, presents a new fusion: black metal and Son Cubano (Cuban sound). Interestingly, many Cubans no longer see the traditional form of Son Cubano (a blend of African and Spanish styles) as particularly relevant², as the genre has now assimilated into a broader range of Latin styles—mambo, bolero, salsa, timba, etc—to form the real “Cuban sound” of today. But both traditional Son and its modern derivatives utilize guitar, trumpet, and various forms of African and Latin percussion to form the instrumental basis for the style, and so the conversion to metal isn’t as far fetched as it may seem on the surface; however, converting raw post-black metal into Son is still no small task. Is one man band To Escape able to do that and become the next outstanding and innovative fusion act?

Well, no, and I think I Wish to Escape is entirely a false promise. Beyond too-quiet implementations of Latin percussion—snaps, bells, maracas, shakers, and güiro—mixed into the blast beats, as well as lovely acoustic Spanish guitar intro and outro tracks, nothing feels particularly Cuban about the sounds of the record. In the folk’s stead, we have a melodically focused raw black metal album with an upbeat twist. Relatively happy and nostalgic melodies are what David Sepulveda excels at, and unlike 99.9% of his contemporaries, the bass shares the leads equally with the guitars, the former featuring a shockingly round and full tone against the rawness of the rest of the record. From the outset of “Art of Their Misery,” addictively saccharine melodies with guitar and bass harmonies bleed through the speakers, and you’ll have riffs like the main ones in “Art of Their Misery” and “Desert in My Eyes, in Your Eyes I See” in your head for days…

… because of how repetitive they are. Sure, Sepulveda comes up with addictive leads and genuinely catchy melodies—despite some really unpleasant guitar tones (e.g. at the start of “Those Who Don’t Know”)—but he has a tendency to ride a single riff for ages. You’d expect a self-proclaimed post-black metal band to work with buildups more. I do appreciate when he throws more aggressive trem-picking into the writing to up the ante, as on “Desert in My Eyes, in Your Eyes I See,” but he plays around with slower tempos more often much to my chagrin. How To Escape plays around with form and structure more is in the percussion, where Sepulveda runs through blast beats and Latin dance rhythms with equal ease like a less-refined Caio Lemos of Kaatayra. Unfortunately, this is raw black metal, and the more interesting percussion gets lost in the characteristically fuzzy mix of the style. For example, you can pick out the bells underpinning the latter half of “Art of Their Misery” or the maracas near the start of “Path of Your Destiny.” I Wish to Escape is frustratingly unsuccessful at implementing its own gimmick.

Whether intentional or not, the record can also be a painful listen apart from the brighter leads and bass. Despite all the engaging and challenging drumming, many moments sound like Lars Ulrich on a black metal record (“Desert in My Eyes, in Your Eyes I See,” “Path of Your Destiny”). The guitars can seem drunkenly out of tune during solos (“There Is No End,” “The Infinite Chain.” The latter also has painfully amateur, emo clean vocals). Finally, Sepulveda’s harsh vocals. They’re a love em or hate em deal, on the visceral end of the black metal spectrum with a bit of a screamo quality. They’re certainly emotive—and he gets some entertainingly inhuman frog sounds out in “The Infinite Chain” and “That Unbreakable Chain”—but they don’t work well with the melodic quality of the music. 

I was extremely excited to hear Son Cubano in a black metal record, and now I feel like an unwary fish lured by an angler. My streak of compelling genre mixtures has come to a close. If you’re a huge fan of old Sadness, Trhä, and other rawer post-black bands, To Escape will prove a worthwhile listen with strong hooks and mostly creative drumming, but don’t go into it expecting anything unique.

Recommended tracks: The Beginning of the End, Art of Their Misery, There Is No End
You may also like: Trhä, Life, Kaatayra, Cicada the Burrower, Old Nick
Final verdict: 5/10

Related links: Bandcamp

Label: independent

To Escape is:
– All instrumentation, vocals, and lyrics by David Sepulveda
With guests:
– Additional percussion arrangement and production by Garry Brents

1. I’m still waiting for a tango nuevo + prog metal fusion, but at least we have Rodolfo Mederos’ lovely De Todas Maneras mixing prog rock and tango nuevo in the meantime. But I dare a prog metal fan to listen to Astor Piazzola’s masterpiece Tango: Zero Hour and tell me that mixing it with metal wouldn’t work amazingly. ︎
2. For a legendary piece of a modern take on the traditional sound, Buena Vista Social Club’s 1997 album is essential listening. ︎

The post Review: To Escape – I Wish to Escape appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Avant-garde, experimental, progressive metal, world music (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Igorrr, Wardruna, Eolya, Forndom
Country: Iceland
Release date: 14 July 2025

When you’re in the reviewing game long enough, it feels like you’ve seen it all. We’re within days of my third anniversary writing for The Progressive Subway, and 2025 feels like a wasteland. The blog is depressed by the lack of good new releases, the usual summer lull is hitting harder than ever, and I’m sifting through everything that’s available to review without enthusiasm. Insipid trad prog? No thanks. Uninspired prog rock? Not on your life. Middling djent debut? God, please smite me down. Sometimes you just feel that new releases no longer inspire you the way they did when you were a wide-eyed young reviewer with enthusiasm and hopes and dreams. If I employed a compass to point me to the interesting new releases, where would it take me?

Perhaps to Spaniard at large in the land of the ice and snow, Mario Infantes, formerly of baroque metal group Cult of Lilith, who has returned with a second solo effort, Bitácora (from the Spanish for binnacle: the casing for a ship’s compass). Exploring a range of moods and genres, Infantes melds a wealth of folk traditions with metal and symphonic influences, exploiting an ensemble of instruments from various countries in the process. The resulting concoction bears resemblances to his alma mater group, as well as the work of Igorrr, but utilises a rather different sonic palette. Singing in both Spanish and English (and quite possibly in other languages), Infantes leads the project as a multi-voiced, multilingual, multi-instrumentalist. He has a natural, operatic tendency, from Einar Solbergian high falsetto to resounding tenor, utilising Igorrr-esque harshes, layered choral harmonies, throat-singing (or close to it), and some more performative voice acting—moments of laughing, spoken word, even something akin to rap.

The instrumental bed, meanwhile, is a deft blend of metal instrumentation and folk instruments from around the world. Handpan features heavily, forming a raindrop dressing for the contemplation of ballad “Streams” and the Balkan lament “Notre Prison”, while a dissonant chiming gamelan underpins “Xhadhamtje”. At various other junctures, we hear from duduk (an Armenian double-reeded woodwind), bansuri (Indian bamboo flute), oud (Middle Eastern lute), zurna (double-reeded woodwind)¹, and doubtless more that my untrained ear failed to pick out. When the riffs come, they often have a rather loose structure, allowing Infantes to use them as an emphatic texture rather than as a restrictive rhythm that hampers the madness of his sonic science, perhaps best heard on “Cianuro”, where the riffs constantly morph, rarely repeating a measure. The resulting concoction is international yet seamless; while a particular section might sound Indonesian or Spanish or Eastern European, the totality seems borderless, the creation of a citizen of nothing smaller than the world itself. 

“Xhadhamtje” is probably the most avant-garde swing on the album with Infantes’ throaty keening and a palimpsest of sinister whispers and nightmare sounds ala Ecophony Rinne, giving way to an enormous operatic crescendo with help from shrieking guest vocalist, Stirga, and an eruption into metal riffs, all underpinned by a nightmarish windchime motif. “Muharib Alqifaar” opens with zurna, Phrygian wails and mysterious oud picking, before exploding into heavier and heavier riffs, and while the coda of Spanish rap feels tacked on, it’s mostly a very successful journey through Bitácora’s various modes. Closing epic, “Cianuro”, operates similarly: a nine-minute distillation of Infantes’ various idiosyncrasies, from balladic crooning sections to upsurges of manic metal. In these heavier moments, the guitar tone and prominence of the bass in the mix, as well as some of the operatic tendencies and manic harshes, have more than a whiff of Igorrr about them, but Infantes owns his sound for himself.

Indeed, it’s in his restraint that this is most apparent: “Sírenu” largely consists of Infantes and an oud with strings before its orchestral crescendo and a gorgeous guest performance from Sunna Friðjónsdóttir. “Away” relies heavily on handpan, much like “Streams” before it, growing inexorably toward a cathartically rhythmic, ritualistic chant. “Streams” is probably the most accessible track on the album, the swelling strings in its chorus proving genuinely stirring. Infantes excels at giving each track a distinct personality of its own, and intersperses the more experimental and heavy sojourns with calming palate cleansers; the softer moments are, perhaps, the album highlight, their meditativeness and sublimity proving a soothing palliative. 

As Bitácora closes with its conclusive coda of lo-fi flamenco and scatting, it’s hard not to feel like you’ve just returned from some astrally projected existential journey and come to at the corner table of a Spanish bar; after such a unique sonic adventure, it feels necessary to sit contemplatively for a minute or two. Certainly, Infantes is a remarkable musician and composer. And while the avant-garde scene can be demanding, and not every swing here lands, far more hit the mark than in the average work of this genre. Far too often, experimental composers throw everything at the wall to see what sticks, leaving listeners with an all too disjointed affair. But Bitácora manages that rare thing: an evocative, flowing listen with peaks and valleys, genuine emotion, and moments like a sonic punch in the face. A much-needed reminder that there are always innovative artists plugging away at their craft, and it’s nice when the compass leads you straight to them. 

Recommended tracks: Streams, Sírenu, Cianuro
You may also like: Maud the Moth, Evan Carson, Elend, Ivar Bjørnson & Einar Selvik
Final verdict: 8/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Instagram

Label: Lost Future Records – Bandcamp | Official Website

Mario Infantes is:
– Mario Infantes (vocals)

With guests:
– Hrafnkell Örn Guðjónsson (Drums)
– Yara Polana (acoustic guitar)
– Gísli Gunnarsson (additional orchestration)
– Ásgeir Ásgeirsson (Oud)
– Sunna Friðjónsdóttir (additional vocals)
– Živa Ivadóttir (additional vocals)
– Simon Thorolfsson, (guitar on Obsidian I)
– Samúel Örn Böðvarsson (Bass)
– Daniel Þór Hannesson (guitars)
– Sebas Bautista (additional guitars)
– Tayebeh jourbonyan (additional vocals)
– Erik Qvick (additional percussion)

1. Infantes’ Instagram page has lots of great little videos where he demonstrates these instruments and talks a bit about them. ︎

The post Review: Mario Infantes – Bitácora appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: technical death metal, progressive death metal, flamenco nuevo (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Beyond Creation, Allegaeon, Gorod, Ne Obliviscaris, Camarón de la Isla, Paco de Lucia, Nile
Country: France
Release date: 11 July 2025

The Romani gitanos in Andalusia were onto something ascendant with their flamenco music. Incorporating aspects from a plethora of musical traditions for their guitar playing and vocals—North Indian, Arabic and North African, Spanish, and Sephardic—the aggressive style of finger-picked acoustic guitars is practically synonymous with Spanish music. Flamenco is extremely distinct, too, with its own canonical melodies (heavily characterized by descending notes), modes, and rhythms, along with microtonal portamento and improvisation courtesy of the singer. Since flamenco is such a rigid system, folding metal into the mix is certainly a difficult task, although an incredibly intriguing one. Since 2010, France’s Impureza have wanted to be the face of the blend, and now on their third album, Alcázares, they continue making a strong case that they are.

Spanish guitar playing and flamenco have made their way into the technical death metal scene before with icons like First Fragment and Allegaeon, but both of them isolate the style from their core metal sound. On paper, (more on that later) Impureza bring the flamenco front and center. Largely taking their metal sound from modern fretless luminaries Beyond Creation, Impureza rely on frantically blasting drums, racing guitar lines, raspy harshes, and, of course, the voluptuous fretless bass. From there, the wild Frenchmen add on their distinct mix of conquistadorial, belted clean vocals, acoustic flamenco guitar lines, and Latin percussion. When it all comes together, the sound is glorious. Prime examples of Impureza firing on all cylinders come after the fully acoustic intro track bedecked with flourishes of Latin percussion and lush strings—such as during first song, “Bajo las Tizonas de Toledo,” which brings the Andalusian elements into the picture around the halfway point, weaving them in and out of the muscly riffs. “Castigos Eclesiástico” starts at a less furious tech pace but opens with the acoustic guitars in tandem with the death metal riffs; the closer “Santa Inquisición” has the most consistent mix of the disparate styles; and “Pestilencia” even brings some trumpet into the mix for another layer of Hispanic flair. 

“Bajo las Tizonas de Toledo” and “Reconquistar” both have a dramatic grand pause after a long tech death section, from which they turn into purely acoustic guitars with fretless bass and cleans. Impureza clearly know what they’re doing on the flamenco front, both as performers and writers, so it’s extremely frustrating that the band doesn’t integrate the acoustic guitars for the majority of the riffs. Impureza need to lean even harder into the flamenco death metal gimmick; yes, they’ve gone further with it than their peers, but they haven’t explored the style nearly as much as they could. 

Although nowhere near as satisfying as the acoustic flamenco sections, the style of playing seeps into the electric riffs, so not all is lost. Impureza’s riffs gallop in tight, marching staccatos, the melodies descending in furious bouts of Nile-esque guitar flurries; additionally, the riffs are in flamenco’s distinctive altered Phrygian mode. Most of the time when I have problems with a gimmick in progressive metal, I dislike that the artist is a “genre tourist” and don’t know the scene they’re imitating well enough to compose anything more than the basic stereotypes. But Impureza are masters of flamenco, and their problem is that they could push the envelope even further. The baroque ornamentation on their chuggy riffs and the wild chromatic solos are more proof that both the metal and flamenco influences are solid, so I just wish they’d use the acoustic more during the metal bits. 

In the eight long years since Impureza’s last album, flamenco metal really hasn’t progressed much (except for First Fragment’s 10/10 Gloire Éternelle), so I pray that Alcázares begins an invigoration for the style. Even though this record hasn’t fully lived up to Impureza’s lofty potential, the sick flamenco parts and killer riffs should keep me satisfied until the next release of the rare fusion.

Recommended tracks: Covadonga, Castigos Eclesiásticos, Santa Inquisición
You may also like: First Fragment, Equipoise, Augury, Kalaveraztekah, Triana, Curanderos, Ash of Necrossus, Ade
Final Verdict: 7.5/10

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

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

Impureza is:
– Esteban Martín – All Vocals
– Lionel Cano Muñoz – Rhythm, Lead & Spanish Guitars
– Florian Saillard – Fretless Bass
– Guilhem Auge – Drums
With guests:
– Xavier Hamon – Percussion
– Louis Viallet – Orchestration

The post Review: Impureza – Alcázares appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: technical death metal, death metal, progressive death metal (mostly harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Allegaeon, Psycroptic, Gorod, Soreption
Country: Mexico
Release date: 2 May 2025

We all love our Viking and pirate metal¹, but there are other badass peoples with awesome aesthetics just begging for albums to be made about them. The Aztecs were a metal people. The Sun god Huitzilopochtli (also the war god) demanded human sacrifice, which priests performed by the thousands in massive rituals, tearing out the still-beating hearts of the victims atop ceremonial pyramids. To obtain so many slaves to sacrifice, warfare was a constant in their society, driving the Aztecs to conquer their neighbors as an expansionist empire, all to satiate their god’s desire for blood. Kalaveraztekah, an up-and-coming death metal band from Aguascalientes, Mexico, tap into the Aztec aesthetic² on their sophomore album Nikan Axkan. Do Kalaveraztekah have Huitzilopochtli favor?

To set the stage for Aztec slaughter, Nikan Axkan sees Kalaveraztekah incorporate a healthy dose of regional folk music into their muscly tech death—pre-Hispanic indigenous instruments and percussion including ocarinas, flutes, conch shell horns, the ehecachichtli (Aztec death whistle), and the huehuetl (type of hand drum)³. With such ambitious syncretisms, the fear is always that the traditional instruments will be a gimmick, detached from the metallic core. Thankfully, Kalaveraztekah nail the stylistic clash, Óscar Dávila’s percussion specifically; beating away in tandem with Kalaveraztekah’s metal drummer, Julio C. Rivera, Dávila brings a polyrhythmic swagger to Nikan Axkan, as well as a ceremonial vibe. Besides the occasional, isolated folk section (to start the album on “Nikan Axkan – El Aquí y el Ahora,” at the end of “Tlazolteotl – La Devoradora de Inmundicia”), the whistles, flutes, and ocarinas merely take on a background role, providing ominous atmosphere behind the riffs with haunting, muted screams. The indigenous Mesoamericans weren’t messing around creating instruments ideal for metal.

While Kalaveraztekah manage to meld their folk and metal instruments impressively, the metal is woefully bland, especially when compared with the only other prominent Aztec-themed tech death band, Impureza, who sound like Beyond Creation with added flamenco and traditional percussion. Kalaveraztekah are death metal, mostly sticking to a mid-paced groove which works well with the exotic percussive elements but doesn’t create engaging riffs. The tones are all pretty standard, cookie-cutter death metal, not taking advantage of having both a lead and rhythm guitarist; lead guitarist Luigi V. Ponce’s (Indepth) “techy” parts are relegated to regrettably predictable arpeggios; and the bass playing of René Alpízar gets lost in an overly loud drum master. The production does no favors to Kalaveraztekah, making their music sound much more one-dimensional than it is—I want to hear those layers of folk and metal in their glory. 

Nikan Axkan works best at its strangest and spookiest—the centerpiece for me is clearly “Yowaltekuhtli – Un Sueño en la Oscuridad.” Ponce’s techy arpeggiation is at its best to start the track, and he even includes a slick clean guitar solo reminiscent of Stortregn. Yet what differentiates the track from the rest of Nikan Axkan is a dramatic spoken word performance, the female performer’s fright coming through even though it’s difficult to understand the lyrics. The extended noodly soloing to finish out the track also has much more energy than the more blah death metal Kalaveraztekah write on the rest of the album. I’m left wishing the band wrote more tracks with such flair.

Although birthed in the industrial hellhole of Birmingham, United Kingdom, metal is a global music like few others, and hearing bands put their local touch on the genre is a wonderful thing, especially when done well. And Nikan Axkan is a compelling fusion of metal with the traditions of Aguascalientes; that’s the hard part, and the band has nailed it. With a couple adjustments to the death metal side of the band, Kalaveraztekah can release something great while paving the way for more Aztecian death metal. So while I probably wouldn’t stage my next human sacrifice with Nikan Axkan as the soundtrack, the album sure inspired me to consider following Huitzilopochtli and to sacrifice my enemies to keep the Sun happy.

Recommended tracks: Tonalli Nawalli – La Esencia y el Espíritu, Yowaltekuhtli – Un Sueño en la Oscuridad, Xiuhmolpilli – El Amanecer del Nuevo Sol
You may also like: Impureza, First Fragment, Indepth, The Chasm, Moral Collapse, Acrania, Stortregn
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: independent

Kalaveraztekah is:
– Julio C. Rivera (vocals)
– Luigi V. Ponce (guitars)
– Julio Alpízar (guitars)
– Óscar Dávila (pre-Hispanic instruments, percussion)
– René Alpízar (vocals, bass)

1. Ok, I certainly do not love my pirate metal. ︎
2. Interestingly, Aguascalientes was never under Aztec rule but rather the Chichimeca tribes whom the Aztecs considered equally as badass as themselves, although primitive culturally. Read about the tribes here. ︎
3. This is not confirmed, but from my research and listening, I believe that it is a mix of these instruments. ︎

The post Review: Kalaveraztekah – Nikan Axkan 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: Art rock, progressive pop, electro-industrial (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Radiohead, Invisible, The Smile, Aphex Twin
Country: Texas, United States
Release date: 11 April 2025

In music, with experimentation comes freedom. I know, no shit, right? But hear me out. Any piece an artist creates establishes a context for their later works: how much less of a disappointment would Obscura‘s latest trash fire have been were it not for their back catalog of tech death masterpieces? And how surprising would the uplifting post-rock of Anathema‘s The Optimist have been without their extensive history of moody, lugubrious alt rock? Wholly disinterested in comparisons to their older works, progressive rock legends The Mars Volta took this truism to its logical conclusion on their 2022 self-titled LP, completely eschewing the progressive rock and post-hardcore of their early career for Caribbean-flavored art pop. With such a radical shift in sound, how do you even create a context in which to understand a piece? The quick answer is, you can’t easily, and you’re forced to look at the artist through fresh eyes to be able to say anything particularly meaningful or interesting. With their new groundwork laid, The Mars Volta have the freedom to experiment however the hell they want, making a firm statement that they are untethered from their past as a progressive post-hardcore mainstay. What do they do with this newfound freedom on latest release, Lucro Sucio; Los Ojos del Vacío (Dirty Profit; The Eyes of the Void)?

Further distancing themselves from their post-hardcore sensibilities, Lucro Sucio sits closer to Radiohead‘s Kid A with added touches of latin jazz, electro-industrial à la Death Grips, and Aphex Twin-flavored ambient/IDM. Tense-but-subdued instrumentation, effect-laden vocals, and a surrealist bent create the feeling of traversing a trepidatious and vast steppe that gets intermittently swallowed in psychedelia. Tracks like “Reina Tormenta” (Storm Queen) and “Alba del Orate” (Dawn of the Madman) urge along frenetic percussion while other pieces are happy to indulge in dirging, weightless lethargy, such as “Maullidos” (Mews) and “Voice in my Knives”. Keyboards are also prominent, acting as the main melodic thread alongside Cedric Bixler-Zavala’s vocals. Lucro Sucio‘s tracks come together as a singular piece that flows from moment to moment, attached by interstitial asides and moved along by textural exploration.

While verse-chorus structures do manifest on tracks like “Morgana” and “The Iron Rose”, their presence is secondary and almost incidental in comparison to the use of texture as a tool for progression. “Enlazan la Tinieblas” (The Darkness Binds), for example, touts a subdued maximalism thanks to its generous use of electronic and organic sounds in a relatively hushed framework. Little to no negative space is left as every bit of sonic real estate is occupied by a percussive symphony performed by a thousand skittering bugs; by its end, the bevy of layers capitulates to overblown industrial bells, all of the flitting blips and bleeps completely overtaken in a blinding and inescapable light. A segue through bizarre looped voice effects leads into following track “Mictlán” (The Underworld), which responds to this textural complexity by stripping it all away and opening the space up for glowing and minimalist ambience under Bixler-Zavala’s vocals. Some tracks even squeeze both approaches into their comparatively short runtimes: “Cue the Sun” is fairly open and spacious, keeping its textures in restraint until a chaotic and jazzy instrumental break bullies its way into the otherwise tranquil atmosphere.

The backbone that allows Lucro Sucio to explore texture without completely losing focus is the use of a subtle flow, consistently revisiting a handful of atmospheres. Opener “Fin” establishes an ethereal and tranquil sensibility for tracks like “Mictlán”, “Voice in My Knives”, and “Morgana” to safely return to after the more turbulent explorations on “Enlazan la Tinieblas”, “Alba del Orate”, and “Detrás la Puerta Dorada” (Behind the Golden Door). Additionally, small interludes help to bridge otherwise unrelated tracks through the use of repetitive and extended sections that fade slowly between ideas. “Poseedora de mi Sombra” (Possessor of my Shadow) tethers “Voice in My Knives” to “Celaje” (Cloudscape) by beginning with the languid atmospherics of “Voice”, but becomes gradually encompassed by a lopsided jazz break that ends in keyboard flourishes hinting at the main melodic ideas of “Celaje”. However, some tracks only work as a segue due to their lack of direction: “Detrás la Puerta Dorada” feels like a spiritual successor to “Five per Cent for Nothing” off of Yes‘ Fragile, a short burst of chaotic chords and staggered meter in a frantic jazz framework. There’s a shocking amount going on, but it’s too cacophonous to make any sense of, and so the track only really works to bridge “Un Disparo al Vacío” (A Shot Into the Void) and “Maullidos”.

Lucro Sucio‘s most captivating tracks have a self-contained progression while working within the record’s larger context: “Celaje” appears as a relatively simple and languid track at first blush, but closer inspection reveals trippy time changes and subtle shifts in mood. Introduced with slow rhythms and vocals drenched in watery reverb, increasingly frequent drum fills pair with a shredding organ until the song opens up massively through spacey keyboards. The track then slows down into plaintive vocal melodies underlaid by sparse but thumping bass before being suddenly pulled back into its establishing idea, expertly transitioning from section to section despite its short runtime. “Un Disparo al Vacío” goes through a similar progression, starting with forward percussion and building into a fervent vocal performance with a killer guitar riff. Unfortunately, the guitar is held back by the subsequent quiet drum production, which—while still quite captivating—stops this ‘drop’ of sorts from having the staggering punch it could have had.

Despite a stellar flow and willingness to revel in its atmospheres, Lucro Sucio‘s focus on texture can sometimes make memorability a challenge. Like trying to recall an exciting dream that continues to fade from your consciousness, it’s often easier to remember the emotions associated with a track than it is to remember any specific melodies or moments. Catchy vocal lines help to anchor compositions and expansive synth chords immediately bring the listener back to Earth after a hallucinatory aside, but these aren’t much more than snippets in the grand scheme of the record. Ironically enough, Lucro Sucio’s exceedingly smooth progression is quite difficult to map out because of how heavily the album leans into its hazy, surreal aesthetic: is that track a reprise, or is it just similar enough to an earlier moment that it activates the same neurons?¹ One gets the sense that the record is intentionally oblique and standoffish, unwilling to be understood except by its most dedicated listeners.

Lucro Sucio; Los Ojos del Vacío sets itself far apart from anything in The Mars Volta‘s back catalog, fully embracing the newfound freedom in their refreshed songwriting approach. While glimpses of their core sound are undoubtedly present, the use of texture as a driving musical force and the consolidation of each track into a free-flowing singular piece shows an eagerness to experiment even after two-plus decades of collaboration. Lucro Sucio is mysterious, engaging, and sonically rich, and despite some missed opportunities and struggles with memorability, it’s difficult to see the record as anything but a successful and artistically whole experiment. The Eyes of the Void stared, and The Mars Volta confidently stared back.

tRecommended tracks: Celaje, Un Disparo al Vacío, Reina Tormenta/Enlazan las Tinieblas, Cue the Sun
You may also like: Kayo Dot, Bend the Future, The Mercury Tree
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

Label: Clouds Hill Music – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

The Mars Volta is:
– Cedric Bixler-Zavala (vocals)
– Omar Rodriguez-Lopez (guitars)
– Eva Gardner (bass)
– Marcel Rodriguez-Lopez (percussion)
– Leo Genovese (keyboards, piano, saxophone)
– Linda-Philoméne Tsoungui (drums)

1. This actually happened to me on my first ten or so listens of Lucro Sucio: I had a ‘Mandela Effect’ moment with “Morgana”, as I could have sworn it was reprising ideas from earlier in the album. Upon closer inspection, it’s the first time that those ideas appear anywhere, an experience I’ve never had with a record. ︎

The post Review: The Mars Volta – Lucro Sucio; Los Ojos del Vacío appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Art Rock, Alternative Rock, Experimental Rock (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Gogol Bordello, The Darkness, Scissor Sisters
Country: Ohio, United States
Release date: 20 March 2025

Fans of heavy, off-kilter, piano-driven rock in the mid aughts needed to look no further than Foxy Shazam to satisfy their cravings. The band exploded onto the scene with a pair of infectious progressive post-hardcore-inspired albums before polishing their sound and breaking into the mainstream with 2010’s arena rock anthem “Unstoppable”: heard in movies and on TV and licensed in some capacity by nearly every major professional sports league in the United States. But the band’s fifth album, Gonzo, marked a drastic change of sound, trading the energy and glam of their earlier work for a mellower flavour of alternative rock. Reception seemed less than stellar – Foxy Shazam released Gonzo for free, cut their promotional tour short, and went on hiatus shortly thereafter.

Since returning in 2020, the band have put out a handful of forgettable albums; their heavy, progressive roots seemed all but shriveled and dead. But in late January of this year, Foxy released the first single from their new album, Animality Opera, “Rhumbatorium”. And let me tell you, dear reader, that irreverent, energetic, experimental single provided a glimmer of hope.  Was it a return to form? Had the erratic, in-your-face Foxy Shazam of days gone by finally returned?

Nope.

The title, Animality Opera, must be purposefully ironic because this latest work is neither operatic nor animalistic. “Pink Sky”, the second single from the album, is reminiscent of their Gonzo era: milquetoast alternative rock that sounds like it was written specifically to be played in grocery stores, save for a spoken word outro featuring sophomoric, nonsensical lines like “nobody wants to be the rock inside of the clown’s sock”. Foxy have done the spoken word shtick before, but it is noticeably more prominent (and irritating) on this latest release. “Karaoke Pain” is a perfect example of the stylistic rut Foxy have found themselves in for the past decade; the pre-chorus begins with the lyrics “this is the part where we can lose control, the place where we can just let that shit go” and leads into… nothing. No soaring vocals, no wild guitar solo, not even a piano slide or a drum fill. Instead, just a sparse, phoned-in vocal performance. Twice we are teased with the possibility of actually losing control and twice we are let down. Fool me once…

Moments of inspired songwriting exist in Animality Opera, but they are few and far between. The piano-driven ballad “Uncreated” is a highlight in this sense: it builds slowly, adding tastefully muted guitar, strings, and horns, building repeatedly to a moderate vocal climax. The lyrics are equal parts truly beautiful (“Take it all away, you can see on forever. Silhouettes of the days we shared hold me together.”) and goofy (“Even in the Starbucks bathroom, this will never change.”). “Uncreated” is a microcosm of the softer side of Foxy Shazam; and is thankfully free of the ill-conceived spoken word sections which mar many of the tracks on this album.

But “Rhumbatorium” is the standout track on Animality. It’s dynamic, energetic, and catchy; but mainly it’s just plain fun. Foxy have been taking themselves too seriously and it’s nice to see them let loose again. Lyrically, “Rhumbatorium” gets straight to the point: “All music is shit and the world is a toilet bowl. Sit down on the throne and push out some rock and roll.” It’s hard to tell if Foxy are having a go at the rest of the music industry or are just being defensive here. The next line is “I don’t know, I just don’t get it. Well then it’s not for you.” More than one track on Animality seems to take aim at the naysayers: earlier on the album “You Don’t Judge The Birds” asks “Why are they so mean? What did I do wrong? … You don’t judge the birds for singing in the morning.” That’s true, but the birds aren’t charging thirty bucks per performance.

Animality is otherwise mostly devoid of the raw energy that characterized Foxy‘s early career and the operatic bombast that came after. “Joseph” and “Dragonfly Chase” would be impressive if they were written by your roommate’s band, but they’re just not up to the (admittedly high) bar Foxy set for themselves with their earlier releases. They push no boundaries. They take no risks. “Jack Tar” is reminiscent of—but less polished than—Arctic Monkeys‘ Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino… and just when you thought you’d gotten away from them, those damned spoken word sections return. They add nothing. They detract from whatever energy these songs are trying to build.

By and large, Animality Opera feels phoned in. Following four other unremarkable albums over the past decade, Foxy seem to be doing everything they can to avoid repeating the success they had in 2010. Is it artistic bankruptcy? Is it laziness? Is it an extended performance art piece where the band are trying to see how many aggressively mediocre albums they can put out in a row while still maintaining some semblance of a fan base? Who’s to say. All I know is that heavy metal sucks and Foxy Shazam’s dead.

R.I.P.

Recommended tracks: Rhumbatorium, Uncreated
You may also like: Jellyfish, The Venetia Fair
Final verdict: 3.5/10

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

Label: EEEOOOAH – Facebook

Foxy Shazam is:
– Eric Nally (vocals)
– Schuyler “Sky” White (keyboards)
– Alex Nauth (horns, backing vocals)
– Teddy Aitkins (drums)
– Existential Youth (formerly known as Trigger Warning and The Persistent Savage) (bass guitar)
– Devin Williams (guitar)

The post Review: Foxy Shazam – Animality Opera appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive rock, jazz fusion, psychedelic rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Vulkan, Thank You Scientist, The Mars Volta
Country: Chile
Release date: 4 March 2025

Ah, the ever-contentious question of what determines a genre. I return often to this video essay by Mike Rugnetta at the (sadly now defunct) PBS Idea Channel, which posits in part that new artistic genres are not always defined by an artist doing anything strictly groundbreaking. Some trend-setters, such as Franz Kafka or the Dark Souls series of video games, instead “create their own precursors,” establishing new genres by recontextualizing artistic elements that had already been used by their peers and predecessors. These subtle revolutionaries bring new perspectives as they pick out existing commonalities that in retrospect could have already described a genre of their own, had anyone cared to see the link. Music, of course, is no exception to this kind of effect; sometimes the most exciting artists aren’t those breaking new ground entirely, but rather those who can combine things you already loved in a way few others have (yet).

Chercán step onto the stage with their self-titled debut album, and while it would be premature to herald the formation of a new genre, their most noteworthy features are found in the recombination of diverse styles—familiar, but not exactly like any individual band. I was first drawn to Chercán by their similarity to Vulkan, a moderately-known but rarely-imitated band fusing aspects of psychedelic and heavy progressive rock (reminiscent of The Mars Volta but far less wacky). Chercán draw their core sound from this same well, leaning slightly away from the heavy prog influences in favor of jazz, and the Chileans’ instrumentation strays into the unconventional with the inclusion of saxophone as a primary contributor. Matías Bahamondes covers the whole range of the woodwind’s capabilities, from calm jazz rock akin to Thank You Scientist in “7 Colores” to experimental wailing at the tail end of “Caen Las Hojas Blancas,” but for the most part the saxophone integrates into the mix as smoothly as a second lead guitar. Guest musicians on string instruments also add extra color to the palette, sometimes subtly blending with the more traditional jazz/rock orchestration, but also stepping into the spotlight from time to time, such as during the interlude “Desolación (En)” and the opening of the balladic followup “Tiempos Paralelos.”

Chercán excel as much at expressing an aggressive, hard-edged mood bordering on metal as they do at producing a softer, instrumental focused, almost symphonic rock sound. Even moreso, it’s impressive how the same musicians and instruments can contribute equally to each facet. Martín Peña’s vocals impart a sense of tension and urgency during more abrasive times like “Caen Las Hojas Blancas” just as much as they add to the expressive beauty of the string-focused “Tiempos Paralelos.” Meanwhile, the duelling saxophone and guitar melodies that adorn each song shift effortlessly into whichever tone is required from moment to moment, alternately pouring out harsh intensity to the full extent of each instrument’s capabilities in the second half of opener “La Culpa” and producing sweet, calming melodic layers in “Kalimba.” I would be remiss to not also mention drummer Rodrigo González Mera, whose fantastic rhythm parts almost rival the melody instruments in their intricacy (most notably in “Relato De Una Obsesión. Parte II: El Orate”). Additional percussion instruments not found on a standard drum kit add a further sense of the otherworldly and sublime throughout both parts of “Relato De Una Obsesión” as well as during the marimba-filled opening of “Kalimba.”

I complain all too often about bands whose unwieldy and repetitive riffs carve virtual ruts into the sound of their music, wearing down the listener’s patience the way anxious pacing wears out the carpet. I have good news, though: Chercán are not one of those bands. Repetitive phrases like the chugging guitar and saxophone rhythms which recur a couple times throughout “Las Mentiras Del Muro” establish a steady groove while mixing up the details, like the shift from low, almost growled vocals to high shrieks after a couple cycles. Most importantly, Chercán have the sense to get out of the way and move on to something else before it becomes too stale, as they do with the energetic instrumental break that closes out “Las Mentiras.” Only two slightly dimmer spots blemish the sheen of this otherwise excellent album. While Chercán’s musical talent and quality never come into question, the tracks “Caen Las Hojas Blancas” and “Las Mentiras Del Muro” partially undercut the musical experience that Chercán otherwise provides. Both focus more heavily on the in-your-face and intense side of the band’s repertoire, and the relative uniformity leads to a less exciting and dynamic experience than the subtlety that Chercán are capable of at their peak, as demonstrated by the opener “La Culpa” which successfully balances both extremes.

Unbound by standards of genre or instrumentation, Chercán revel in the endless recombination of music. Drawing on the eclectic psychedelic and progressive influences of their musical ancestors Vulkan and The Mars Volta, Chercán execute a coup de grâce with the addition of saxophone and strings, elevating their debut to a unique plane of music. Chercán is dynamic, it shows a range of talents, and it’s also just gorgeous. Talented songwriting allows the musicians the space they need to shine, building momentum and avoiding dull repetition with a wealth of musical ideas available to cycle through, but also maintaining a steady pace that never feels like it’s in a rush to continue from one section to the next. Although their individual features inevitably trace back to some other source of inspiration, their creative combination offers a welcome shot of novelty in a year that’s been a little slow to get off the ground.

Recommended tracks: La Culpa, Kalimba, Tiempos Paralelos, Relato De Una Obsesión (both parts), 7 Colores
You may also like: Bend the Future, Seven Impale, Papangu
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: Independent

Chercán is:
– Martín Peña (vocals, guitars – “7 Colores”)
– Simón Catalán (bass)
– Roberto Faúndez (guitars)
– Matías Bahamondes (saxophone)
– Rodrigo González Mera (percussion)
With guests:
– Benjamín Ruz (violin)
– Javiera González (viola)
– Ariadna Kordovero (cello)

The post Review: Chercán – Chercán appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Neoclassical darkwave (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Björk, Lingua Ignota, Anna von Hausswolff
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: 21 February 2025

The approach to intimate topics in music is as varied as musicians themselves. Artists such as The Mars Volta like to bury their ideas under layers of symbolism, urging listeners to pry deeper and piece lyrics together themselves, while artists like Mount Eerie couldn’t be any more direct in their painfully raw prose. Maud the Moth, moniker of Scottish composer and healthyliving vocalist Amaya López-Carramero, aims for a balance of these two approaches on latest release The Distaff, exploring her emotions in a way that is at times arcane and at other times steamrolls the listener with powerfully blunt sentiment. Does her brand of lyricism reach through to the listener, or does The Distaff leave us spinning up our own interpretations into wool?

A sharp surrealist bent envelops The Distaff’s neoclassical darkwave, manifesting through López-Carramero’s use of voice effects (“Canto de Enramada”), abrasive industrial sounds (“Exuviae”, “A Temple by the River”), and morphing, non-linear song structures (“Despeñaperros”). A pithy elevator speech for the album would probably say something like ‘a soul-bearing operatic recital set in the middle of a fever dream’. Most tracks indulge in loungey, serpentine piano swirling around López-Carramero’s extensive vocal range, reaching powerful climaxes that tap into heavy and doomy guitar distortion. At other times, the piano channels an otherworldly atmosphere and tonality similar to that found in Alora Crucible.

In the opening moments of “Canta de Enramadas”, juxtaposition is established as a central songwriting tenet: López-Carramero’s operatic, howling, and vocoder-laden performance counters the amorphous and swirling electronic backdrop in a way that terrifies yet feels utterly relatable in its intensity and pain. Later, “Exuviae” features tweeting birds and piano flourishes that are intermittently carved through by wailing industrial noises, conveying an impassioned search for pastoral catharsis that is haunted by the harsh and abusive machinations of mankind. López-Carramero takes virtually every opportunity to set up ideas of ‘polarity’, utilizing her stunning vocal range and a bevy of textures to paint compositions in a stark gray.

Juxtaposition is even evoked in The Distaff’s lyricism. Verses are wont to oscillate between crystal-clear mental imagery and inscrutable symbolism while still retaining an intimate feel. Lines like ‘Kindred bodies dissolve / Dehooved and mute in the barn’ from “Fiat Lux” and ‘Bewildered, he entered the bodies of both of them / Poisoned vine / And the ditch chokes the vine / Black plague at the root’¹ from “Canto de Enramada” recall the visceral uncanniness found in, for example, The Mars Volta’s Frances the Mute. On the flip side, “A Temple by the River” repeatedly calls out ‘My body is not enough’ in woeful capitulation, a striking and heartbreakingly concrete lament, while “Exuviae” proclaims ‘Inside me there’s a crack / Where the light can never reach’, heavily infusing The Distaff with sentiments of inadequacy and unworthiness.

Despite the relative simplicity of its compositions, The Distaff showcases a remarkable density in its winding Impressionist ideas. The waxing and waning of “Despeñaperros” is undoubtedly cinematic, bringing together dramatic doomy climaxes and plaintive piano through a narrative of death and change. Whereas “Despeñaperros” wanders far from its beginnings, “A Temple by the River” takes a more circular approach, returning to its home idea after a dramatic string-led adventure through marsh and prairie. While this is by and large a positive for The Distaff, pieces like “Burial of the Patriarchs” wander a bit too much, its individual parts pleasant but difficult to follow. When paired with dense and cryptic lyricism, it’s easy to completely lose your footing and be pulled out of the experience entirely for a moment. Additionally, some tracks unsatisfyingly stay in the same place for too long: “Siphonophores”, for example, sits in a lilting piano idea for most of its duration that leaves too little to grab onto or follow, even with the inclusion of its harsh industrial flourishes and decent climax near the end.

Occasionally challenging and always dense, The Distaff is a work that revels wholly in juxtaposition. Amaya López-Carromero is eager to evoke a deeply personal internal sorrow but reticent to reveal it all at once, casting a shroud through surreal-yet-intimate imagery and Impressionist-yet-heavily-textured songwriting. Many of The Distaff’s passages feel borne of something wholly inhuman and yet still manage to effortlessly strike at the soul through a clever balance of dreamlike intangibility and material prosody. Though its ideas occasionally get lost in themselves and leave little for the listener to glean, The Distaff is willing to open itself up to you as much as you open yourself to it.

Recommended tracks: A Temple by the River, Despeñaperros, Exuviae, Fiat Lux
You may also like: Ophelia Sullivan, Mingjia, Alora Crucible, healthyliving
Final verdict: 7.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Independent

Maud the Moth is:
– Amaya López-Carromero (vocals, piano, psaltery, percussion)
– Scott McLean (guitar, moog, saxophone)
– Sebastian Rochford (drums)
– Alison Chesley (cello)
– Fay Guiffo (violin)

1. This is a rough translation from Spanish. Here are the original lyrics: ‘Fuera de si, se adentró en el cuerpo de las dos / Sarmiento envenenado / Y la acequia ahoga la vid / Peste negra en la raíz’ ︎

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