Style:  progressive black metal, electronica, industrial metal, symphonic metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Mechina, Thy Catafalque, Sigh
Country: France
Release date: 1 August 2025

I love when an artist has a philosophical vision that the music matches. The man behind Creatvre, Raphaël Fournier, knows exactly what he wants Toujours Humain (Always Human) to represent: a deep tension between being human and being part of the fast-approaching technological future. In I, Voidhanger’s Bandcamp blurb for the record, Fournier drops some absolutely fire explanations like “It [Toujours Humain] echoes the cries of those no longer heard, fragments of tweets turned into prayers” and “It’s an allegory of self-erasure for individuals, as programmed by those who set the agenda… The shame of still being biological.” A bit pretentious? Absolutely. But the description is undoubtedly poetic, and Toujours Humain definitely walks the walk.

As a writer at a blog of luddites, I am naturally drawn far more to the side of Creatvre that looks toward the past and not the imminent technocratic future. The project’s 2020 record, Ex Cathedra, is brilliant Baroque-inspired black metal with flute and real strings; in 2025, the Baroque aspect of Creatvre’s sound is wrapped into synthwave à la Keygen Church, the only remnants of non-electronic instruments being sax and trumpet in tracks like “R+X,” “Diffimation,” and “Shaïna.” Toujours Humain successfully distorts their classical compositional style rooted in human tradition into an industrial, synthesized album that sounds like it could be from the future.

Synths and synthesized choirs, off-kilter electronic beats, and industrial metal barking harshes lay down the foundation for Toujours Humain and its view of technology. Atop that base, Creatvre creatively branches out in a couple ways: the aforementioned Baroque influence in impressive counterpoint (“Hope Inc.”, “Chant des Limbes”), dancey industrial beats under trem picking (“Plus Humain”), vocoder (“Plus Humain”) and dynamic synthwave (“Toujours en Bas,” “Diffamation”). Fournier also explores several compositional assets that don’t work in his favor, like the constant industrial sections focused on rhythm much more than melody, the latter of which is Creatvre’s strong suit. Some tracks rely too much on those industrial cliches, too, leading them to be completely forgettable on the tracklist (“R+X” aside from its trumpet part, “810-M4SS”). Fournier’s vocals are also one-note, staying entirely within a small span of mid-range harsh growls, with an odd whispered quality from multilayering, that feel out of place compared to the often exploratory and dynamic music on Toujours Humain. 

Exacerbating the middling industrial metal sections is a loud, fittingly over-produced sound. The strong guitar leads on “Syntropie” and “Chant des Limbes” get buried in a dozen different synth tones, which bleep, bloop, arpeggio, and provide a fat bottom end to the sound. No room is left for breathing in the mix—not that our cyborg counterparts will need air—in favor of a full, epic sound. The choral moments are the only ones that benefit from the loud mix, as they achieve a bombastic score-like quality, similar to Neurotech. The rare moments where fewer elements are moving around the sonic space in parallel are clearly where Creatvre excels; for instance, at 1:12 in “Hope Inc.”, Fournier isolates the main lead guitar with a single synth line to go into the Baroque-infused main melody in the “chorus” of sorts. The track also has a much more energetic swing than much of the rest of the album, mostly avoiding the industrial slog. 

Fournier gets his point across on Toujours Humain that man and machine are on an imminent collision course with his blend of old and new, but I hope that he rediscovers his more human composition because my still-unchipped brain prefers the symphonic black metal of Ex Cathedra over the industrial synthiness of Toujours Humain. Or, perhaps, I’m just too slow at evolving to fit the new technology and will be left behind as an embarrassing remnant of what our species was, fleshy and reliant on oxygen.

Recommended tracks: Hope Inc., Chant des Limbes, Diffamation
You may also like: Grey Aura, Neurotech, Keygen Church, Les Chants du Hasard
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: I, Voidhanger Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Creatvre is:
– Raphaël Fournier (voice, guitars, bass, synths, drums, trombones, trumpet, saxophone)
With guests:
– Ombre Ecarlate (additional composition)
– Cédric Sebastian (additional vocals on tracks 6-7)

The post Review: Creatvre – Toujours Humain appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive rock, progressive pop, art rock, electronica, post-rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Katatonia, Steven Wilson (all), The Pineapple Thief, Gazpacho
Country: Norway
Release date: 25 April 2025

Dust off that box of corpse paint you haven’t touched since Halloween 2022, because woodland-monikered Oak are taking us to the grim forests of Norway. Delivering a blasphemous brand of black metal, the band… no, wait, this doesn’t sound like black metal at all. This is actually a clean, artsy take on progressive rock. And was that an electronica section? This Oak clearly isn’t the typical tree of the frozen north’s dark timberlands. Ah, that’s right, we’ve even covered these guys before. My bad. Put away that corpse paint because there’s no black metal to be found here. Or is there?

The Third Sleep picks up right where Oak’s previous album left off, providing another highly listenable and densely melodic slab of progressive rock. The band’s work rings familiar: melancholic passages drawing clear inspiration from Katatonia and Steven Wilson are scattered throughout, and tinges of the softer sides of Opeth and Ulver can also be heard. But Oak spin their influences into a style unmistakably their own, due in part to how well they weave electronica into a more common, moody prog-rock sound. Vocalist Simen Valldal Johannessen also has a distinct, emotive baritone that colors the music a darker shade. Johannessen takes on piano duties as well, and the instrument plays a significant role as the album’s main melodic driver.

Pensive yet poppy, Oak craft nuanced prog that stays remarkably accessible. Right from the opener, “No Such Place,” Johannessen effortlessly carries a tuneful vocal melody over a 5/4 verse while accenting acoustic strumming with his piano. The song also features a soulful saxophone solo—one of several on the album. A couple of tracks later, “Run Into the Sun” delivers a real earworm: the chorus is infectious, something fit for the radio on its surface. However, a deeper listen reveals an impressive interplay between a guitar lead and piano melody underneath. “London” has a similarly singable chorus, but incorporates some slick rhythmic guitar punches and drumming far more dynamic and complex than a typical pop chorus. The song’s verse is another instance where intricate playing meets listenability, with a wandering fuzzy bassline and synth textures driving behind Johannesen’s crooning. 

Although The Third Sleep leans on conventional song structures, each track has at least one extended instrumental detour, often post-rock in feel. The lead single “Shimmer” is a shining example: after primarily following a verse-chorus pattern for its first half (with some really great percussion, I might add), the track is stripped down to simple bass, drums, and piano. Additional instruments and textures are then layered in patiently before it all swells gently and resolves. It’s a lovely listen, the song’s back half providing over three minutes of mellow instrumental bliss. “Borders” pulls a similar trick in its second half but centers around programmed drums and a somber, lingering synth. “Sensory Overload,” meanwhile, has a noisier and heavier bridge at its midpoint, at times including dissonant distorted keys and cacophonous saxophone. Oak’s ability to combine conventional song structures with these detailed and varied instrumental explorations makes The Third Sleep incredibly listenable and fulfilling enough to revisit. The album’s warm, clear mix helps bring it all together, allowing plenty of space for each instrument—real or programmed—to breathe without the whole package sounding sterile. 

Despite the album’s various textures and clear craftsmanship, though, it lacks exceptionally memorable or compelling passages—no true peaks. The Third Sleep isn’t middling prog, but it’s quite safe for the most part: it’s the kind of release you bring home to meet Mom and Dad; you then settle down, get that spacious two-story house with the yard and white picket fence, grow old, and retire comfortably. It’s a good life, not necessarily boring, but without major excitement. That’s The Third Sleep. An exception to this suburban dream (or nightmare) of a metaphor does come with “Sensory Overload,” ending the album—much to my surprise—with a minute or so of something bordering on straight-up black metal (better bring that corpse paint back out!). The section is complete with double bass drumming, a riff not far from a blackened tremolo, and demonic growls. And although I appreciate the section’s unexpectedness, it’s more memorable for its surprising nature than execution—it’s a fun touch, but not much more.

Even if The Third Sleep doesn’t have any moments as astounding as I’d expect from a band so capable, I can repeat exactly what we said about Oak’s last album: “There’s still a hell of a lot here to enjoy.” The Third Sleep is engaging in its variety and detail, gorgeously produced, well-performed, and accessible enough to bring home to your parents—just don’t let them catch you donning your corpse paint for that final passage.

Recommended tracks: London, Run Into the Sun, Shimmer
You may also like: Jonathan Hulten, Bruce Soord and Jonas Renkse’s Wisdom of Crowds, Playgrounded, Haven of Echoes
Final verdict: 7/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Karisma Records: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Oak is:
– Simen Valldal Johannessen (vocals, piano, keyboard)
– Sigbjørn Reiakvam (drums, percussion, programming, keys, guitars)
– Øystein Sootholtet (guitars and bass)

The post Review: Oak – The Third Sleep appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Art rock, trip-hop, ambient, electronica, dark folk (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Massive Attack, Radiohead, Chelsea Wolfe, Nine Inch Nails, Björk, Bent Knee, Steven Wilson when goes more electronica
Country: UK
Release date: 1 November 2024

Art has many purposes, but a lot of the time it becomes a vehicle for escapism; I sit contentedly through many a middling film or serviceable album with a handful of bops because that’s all I want from them. It’s only through serendipity and the mystery of resonant frequencies that we can occasionally come across art that wends its tendrils deep into the cracks of the soul; that can resaturate dried husks of truth with meaning once more, that, due to some combination of neural pathways and reverberating sound waves, can invoke a physiological response that borders on the profound. 

i Häxa, taken from the Swedish term for “witch”, is a project comprised of vocalist Rebecca Need-Menear (Anavae) and producer/instrumentalist Peter Miles (highlights include producer for Architects and co-producer on Tesseract’s War of Being) and blends art rock, trip-hop, ambient, industrial, and dark folk influences together into one heady brew¹. Originally conceived as a single flowing suite, but released as four EPs (the first two of which I reviewed here), and now fused into a single album, there’s a few different ways to listen to the full i Häxa. Everything flows but there are recognisable song formations, distinct quarterings within that flow—at the same time, it makes little sense to listen to, for example, “The Well” without listening to “Fog of War” because the two are parts of a seamless whole.

Swollen layers of synths and pulsating backbeats, graceful piano and lamenting strings form the instrumental backbone of i Häxa with Need-Menear’s sinuous, high-toned voice—in timbre, a more powerful, just-going-through-a-phase sister to Magdalena Bay’s Mica Tenenbaum—sojourning from vulnerable (“Circle”) to threnodic (“The Well”) to boisterous (“Destroy Everything”). Around half the tracks feature spoken word recitations from Need-Menear—the dread monologue of “Fog of War”, the rhythmic poetry that drives “Inferno”, the venomous whispers on “Army”—and her deft ear for enunciation, her oratory range, and paganic lyricism keep the listener hanging on every word. Where spoken word in music all too often falls flat with ropey oration and lazy samples, for i Häxa it’s a vital and astonishingly successful texture. 

I could wax lyrical about each track for a while, but suffice it to say that the flow and complexity of the arrangements is pleasing, playing with time signatures (I still can’t work out the beat on “Eight Eyes”), manipulated vocals (“Vessel”, “Sapling”), and reprises (“Circle” builds on a piano melody first explored in “Last at the Table” while repurposing lyrics first heard on “Sapling”). On a song-to-song basis, i Häxa consistently impress, but it’s the interweaving overall structure that sells it, the consistent quartering, the effortless flow, the reprisal of motifs—sometimes familiar, sometimes transformed—all coming together to form something holistic. Despite marrying analogue and digital, i Häxa ultimately feels strangely natural, as though this energy always existed somewhere and Need-Menear and Miles became conduits for its message. That might be a weird metaphor but it’s one of the highest compliments I can pay to music; something that feels less like it was created and more like it always existed in some form and has only just found articulation. 

By the time we get to the penultimate double whammy of “Blue Angel” and “Infernum”, i Häxa have brought us to a place of malign chaos where crushing Aphex Twin-esque beats and volatile synths pulsate while cascading neoclassical strings and eerie choral vocals form a sonic tableau of damnation. Miles’ beats are consistently, to use a technical term, sick: evoking Massive Attack on “Underworld” and “Dryland” (that strings/vocal motif/beat combo is straight Heligoland), and more acrid dance acts like The Prodigy or Squarepusher on “Infernum”. Kudos has to go to the strings across the record which are utilised in versatile ways, from the energetic melody on “Dryland” to the tenebrous quartet on “Circle”. The impressive thing is that i Häxa can span such a vast musical territory—in genre, tempo, instrumentation—and make the work in its totality feel cohesive and flowing. 

I’ve probably made my point: I really like i Häxa, but I do want to give special attention to the lyrics. Need-Menear’s voice and delivery give life to her poetic lyrics as on “Sapling”—”did all we know turn out to be our worst addictions/and are we failing?, or the recitation on “Fog of War”—“heat has its own smell, its own language, and my skin will be scorched long before I understand its words”. Mysterious and evocative, the imagery swings from more intimate registers (“Last at the Table”, “Dryland”, “Circle”) to existential dread (pretty much everything else), always hitting on something spine-tingling. Additionally, I have to, again, praise the visual accompaniments to the album, as the music video for Part One is engraved on my brain in all its strange imagery and autumnal hues. Everything this duo touches feels like the work of true artists, living and breathing a unique vision. 

i Häxa’s eponymous debut has quite simply beguiled me. It’s a stunning work melding a variety of genres and viewpoints into a cohesive work of art, a flowing sonic experience, some primordial evocation of the sublime embodied in the dread words of a lost witch yearning for meaning to manifest within this mortal coil. Need-Menear and Miles have crafted something truly unique in spite of its familiar foundations, haunting in its poignance and sonic force, brimming with a depth to which one can’t help but succumb, something that nestles in the heart and lays eggs there. Come wander into the underworld, give in to your sick desire for the inferno; you won’t regret it, I promise.

Recommended tracks: pick any of the EPs and listen to it in full (or just do the full album, after all it was originally conceived as one long suite) but if you have to have individual tracks to hook you: Underworld, The Well, Dryland, Sapling
You may also like: Ophelia Sullivan, Marjana Semkina, Mingjia, Meer
Final verdict: 9.5/10

1. Their first gig was at ArcTanGent festival who lumped them, understandably, in the “uncategorised” category alongside Kalandra (clearly a folk rock group), Sans Froid (art rock), and Doodseskader (ok, I’ll grant them that one). Meanwhile, Imperial Triumphant got a category all to themselves, “esoteric death metal”, which isn’t even all that accurate.
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Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Pelagic Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

i Häxa is:
– Rebecca Need-Menear (vocals)
– Peter Miles (all instruments)

The post Review: i Häxa – i Häxa appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive black metal, progressive electronica (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Tangerine Dream, Enslaved, Gorguts, Klaus Schulze
Country: United States-NY
Release date: 5 July 2024

A couple weeks ago I received a shirt in the mail, and while it wasn’t Krallice per se, the band was represented. Sadly, metal maestro Colin Marston’s production studio, Menegroth, has been forced to move locations, so Imperial Triumphant produced a charity shirt to help refund the studio with scores of bands Marston has produced. He’s worked with many of the best bands in metal. And the most prolific of his own projects, Krallice, have arrived with their fourteenth album, Inorganic Rites, just weeks after Menegroth has relocated. Of course, Marston’s hands are synonymous with excellent production, so that’s a given on Inorganic Rites, but how do the avant-black legends fare beyond the deft touch of a currently nomadic studio?

The performances, which Marston so meticulously balances in the mix, are dynamic and full of surprises, like Lev Weinstein’s drums, deftly spanning understated progressive electronica backing to intricate, technical black metal. If you need proof of his ability, listen to the start of “Here Forever” which is chaotic and overwhelming, yet Weinstein’s drums provide some structure to the crazed Mario Galaxy boss music with his fills and steady blast beats. Defining the album, however, are Marston’s various synthesizers and Mick Barr’s bass which together create an otherworldly atmosphere. Clearly inspired by Berlin school progressive electronica to my ear (Tangerine Dream, Klaus Schulze in particular), Marston’s synthesizers provide a retro-futurist atmosphere thick enough to suffocate in, eerie alien synths wonderfully delectable in range of tones and usages completely forged out of a 70s sci-fi aesthetic. They provide both atmosphere and melody—I’ve never heard synths like at 1:40 in “Faustian Bargain” or the creepy intro to “Flatlines Encircled Residue”—and they’re essential to what the modern iterations of Krallice are at their core. Similarly, Barr’s bass with its particularly phat tone easily fit in with the synths for extended progressive electronica sections, but it’s also the driving force behind the metal sections, leading all of the most memorable riffs such as from 5:00 onward in “Parataxis.” Few instrumental duos achieve the level of cohesion and accordance as Barr and Marston here.

Don’t let the title Inorganic Rites fool you because the album moves with a primordial life of its own, the songwriting self-propelling in apparently random directions like an amoeba, oozing forward like a virile yet completely reactionary and unpredictable force exploring its alien environment. Long winded treks through science fiction mountains and valleys often suddenly are fraught with short bursts of metallic energy suffused predominantly by Weinstein; Krallice are a primitive being in an oft violent world. The natural yet unpredictable flow of songwriting makes Inorganic Rites easy listening despite its hour-long length. However, occasionally I wish the extended electronica sections were cut short by the raucous, galactic black metal sooner—see “Universe Ancestral Talisman” which exclusively stays as progressive electronica throughout its lengthy runtime. These progressive electronica moments unfurl with the same verve as the other sections and would undoubtedly be timeless classics if they’d been released in the 70s, but Krallice’s black metal background is so incredibly strong that I crave more of it. 

At odds with its retro-futurist aesthetic, Inorganic Rites feels wildly forward-thinking for metal with its composition so influenced by a more natural progressive electronica- or ambient-infused approach. And it all lifts the black metal into a new echelon of space-y brilliance instead of one of the hundred other synth-y atmoblack bands. Having to move the legendary location of Menegroth is but a small hurdle because wherever Marston ends up will shape the future of metal.

Recommended tracks: Parataxis, Here Forever, Hinderer
You may also like: Midnight Odyssey, Thantifaxath, Esoctrilihum, Nightmarer, SkyThala, Bakt
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Krallice is:
Nicholas McMaster: guitar, vocals
Colin Marston: synthesizers, guitar, vocals
Mick Barr: bass, guitar, vocals
Lev Weinstein: drums

The post Review: Krallice – Inorganic Rites appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Art rock, trip-hop, alternative folk, dark folk, dark ambient, alternative rock (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Chelsea Wolfe, Radiohead, Massive Attack, Portishead, Björk, Emma Ruth Rundle, Anna von Hausswolff. And some comparisons more specific to this blog: Steven Wilson’s arty/electronic works, Lunatic Soul, later Ulver, The Black Queen, iamthemorning
Country: UK
Release date: February 16th 2024 (Part One); May 17th 2024 (Part Two)

If I have a specific love outside of progressive metal, it’s arty, rocky, electronica-tinged, trip-hoppy… stuff. I don’t know what to call it exactly, it’s more a vibe than a genre, but if you look at the bands in the “recommended” section above then you’ll know the ballpark I’m in; the not-so-mainstream music that forefronts complex instrumentation, emotional sincerity and strange sonic textures. There’s been some good examples as of late, from the new Beth Gibbons and St Vincent albums to Steven Wilson’s foray into electro-prog last year, but what I didn’t expect was that I’d find one of the best groups in this realm repped by Pelagic Records, the label founded by Robin Staps of progressive metal band The Ocean, better known for doom, sludge and post-metal¹.

i Häxa is comprised of vocalist and visual artist Rebecca Need-Menear (one half of alternative rock group Anavae), and instrumentalist and producer Peter Miles (producer for We Are The Ocean and Architects, and co-producer on Tesseract’s latest album), and these two EPs Part One and Part Two form the first half of their audacious audiovisual project. Part One (From the Earth) has been released with an accompanying short film while Part Two (Fire) comes with a live studio performance. A giddy concoction of trip-hop, art pop, folk, and dark ambient flavours form the bulk of this genre-defying brew which relies on exquisite production, hauntingly rich vocals, and an intense dichotomy of tension and release, softness and abrasiveness. Both EPs run to just over fifteen minutes and each feature four tracks that flow together like one long suite. 

Need-Menear’s honeyed voice oozes threat and vulnerability in equal measure, and she modulates exquisitely: on “The Well” (Part Two) she starts out husky, sinuous, and just a little caustic, ultimately crescendoing with a belting, cathartic vocal solo over chaotic strings and ambient layers straight out of Radiohead’s most raucous work—the track also gambles on gradually slowing the feel during the climax, the drums reducing from half time to quarter, etc, while the energy of the vocals and strings increases, which pays off beautifully. A handful of songs—”Inferno” (Part One), “We Three”, and “Fog of War” (both Part Two) feature prominent spoken word pieces, also by Need-Menear, who narrates with a deft feel for rhythm, enunciation, and intensity. On “Inferno”, the ambient textures and pulsating drumwork slowly build to an unbearable maelstorm, trapping her voice in labyrinthine layers of sound, while “Fog of War”, which closes Part Two in hair-raising fashion, ends with some of her best apocalyptic prose: “It didn’t occur to me how helpless we are/walking, organic containers/at the mercy of circumstance/I am too afraid to cry/eyes glued to the hues of my southern hemisphere/ablaze/a borealis of flame”—your move, Yeats. All too often, spoken word in music is ill-conceived and lacklustre, but for i Häxa it’s a vital and chilling component within the overall composition.  

Miles, meanwhile, is the perfect instrumental partner, combining folk-tinged guitar and elegant piano with intense layers of synths and complex trip-hop inspired drum work; an entente between analogue and digital. “Underworld” explodes into a filthy electronica beat reminiscent of Massive Attack’s “Angel” but with an even greater sense of heft and menace; the looping background vocals underlying “Sapling” sit amid gorgeous piano, and ominously percussive ticking with a 3/4 feel, all of which form the perfect bedrock for one of Need-Menear’s most emotive performances; and the two drum lines played in counterpoint on “We Three” confer an unsettling energy. The verses of “Eight Eyes”, meanwhile, unfold in 5/4 with a possible bar of 7/4 here and there², before the polyrhythmic chorus, and on “Inferno” Miles sojourns over the piano in free form, a gentle fluttering beneath growing tension. All these subtleties are nestled within an enormous wall of sound, and yet are distinct within that immense totality, demonstrating Miles’s profound intuition for balancing every sonic element.

As this is an audiovisual experience, it’s worth delving into the accompanying film pieces. Part One’s EP-length music video has fantastic production values, creative costumes, and dynamic camerawork, borrowing from the visual language of folk horror, with Dantean symbols of hell, and themes of death and rebirth. Violently contorting forest spirits paw at Need-Menear who plays the nameless protagonist, and as Miles’ synths intensify under her tortured narration during “Inferno”, we see her trapped in a claustrophobic prison of human flesh, somewhere on the Botticelli to NBC’s Hannibal spectrum. The imagery conjured here is striking: Need-Menear wreathed in red light watching herself cradled in the arms of a forest spirit, breaking free from a fabric amniotic sac, a bewebbed sapling ablaze in a clearing. If a pop artist with millions of dollars and a professional director at their disposal put out this exact film we’d be hailing it as one of the best music videos ever made.

You might think the live in studio video for Part Two would struggle to reach up to the expectations set by Part One’s feature. And while Need-Menear, Miles and company aren’t pushing the limits of cinematic performance art this time, the vibes are impeccable nonetheless, reflecting the more darkly intimate tone of these songs. With the studio draped in bloodred velveteen and a deer skull chandelier looming menacingly overhead, the performance becomes increasingly claustrophobic. By the time spoken word piece “Fog of War” comes to close proceedings, the camera’s flitting around in panicked circles like a trapped moth, tortured screams emanate amid the performers wringing pandemonium from their instruments (this performance goes a little harder than the EP version), and Need-Menear’s knelt down amidst it all intoning dread premonitions from some infernal tome—you’ll find few studio performances that go harder. Both of these visual components add new dimensionality to the music, and prove rewarding and worthwhile companion pieces, little artworks in their own right.

With a Part Three and Part Four of this solstice-guided work set for release by November³, I’m very excited to complete this journey given the excellence of the first two instalments. Suffice to say, that i Häxa is an extraordinarily bold and audacious project of musical and visual artistry, an addictive, arresting and cathartic listen that I’ve had on repeat since discovering it. Everyone involved, both the main duo, the guest musicians, and all those involved in bringing the visuals to life, should be incredibly proud of themselves—kudos to Pelagic Records, too, who continue to impress with their open-minded signings. Existential, intimate, pagan, and utterly sublime, i Häxa looks set to be one of 2024’s strangest and most rewarding musical experiences..

Recommended tracks: Underworld, Sapling; Eight Eyes, The Well (but really I suggest you sit down and take half an hour to watch both video pieces in full)
You may also like: Ophelia Sullivan, Courtney Swain, Dreadnought, Suldusk, Marjana Semkina, White Moth Black Butterfly, Meer, Exploring Birdsong
Final verdict: 9/10

1.  The Ocean’s last album, Holocene, introduced electronica influences to their sound, and Pelagic rep a few other artists who play with trip-hop, drone and electronica, such as Playgrounded, BRUIT≤, and SHRVL, but i Häxa nevertheless rank among their most out-there signings. 
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2.  Counting above four is hard so I might have this wrong. Suffice to say, there’s weird time signatures happening.
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3.  Rest assured I’ll be reviewing those two EPs after they’ve both come out, and to assess the project in its entirety. 
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Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | YouTube | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Pelagic Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

i Häxa is:
– Rebecca Need-Menear (vocals)
– Peter Miles (instruments, production and mixing)

The post Review: i Häxa – Part One & Part Two appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Genres: avant-garde metal, instrumental prog metal, electronica, industrial metal (instrumental)
Recommended for fans of: The Algorithm, Master Boot Record, Neurotech, Space Mountain soundtrack
Country: Poland
Release date: 6 January 2024

With a name like Evelyn and an album cover that reeks of Vieux Boulognendue, I figured Multidimensional Transformation must be generic symphonic metal, no different than any of the other five hundred bands that ape Nightwish—probably replete with a hot, goth-adjacent singer named Evelyn that would make my peer Zach instantly fall in love, too. To be sure, Multidimensional Transformation has symphonic elements, but it’s really a smorgasbord of eclectic electro-prog, pilfering elements from the likes of Neurotech, Mesarthim, and The Algorithm. 

When the first section beyond the superficial intro exploded two minutes and nineteen seconds into the album—with me expecting a bland soprano—I about jumped out of my skin at the relentless industrial blast beats and electronica-suffused blackened tremeloes. While immediately abrasive, a slew of strong melodies began, performed both by the lead guitars (while they weren’t mindlessly chugging as they are across large swaths of the album) and by the prevalent synths which define Evelyn’s sound. Providing a range of styles to Multidimensional Transformation, like trance, electro, breakbeat, and synthwave, the synths easily rise above the rest of the album both in the background as an ambient texture and, more importantly, as an intense, pummeling vessel for carrying the main melodies like The Algorithm or Mesarthim. The best track “Programmed Dream” especially incorporates a more chilled prog metal-cum-synthwave section toward the end as an overall album highlight, divorced from the rather hectic main body of the album.

However, one can hardly hear the melodies for most of the album because of obnoxious, constant blast beats. I love blast beats more than the next guy (unless the next guy is Zach), especially over clean and/or chill sections (as in Neurotech’s excellent Symphonies albums), but Evelyn is far, FAR too much. Even disregarding the horrible tone choice—I mean, really, the echoing, reverb-riddled computerized drums are truly grating—they are far too loud in the mix, drowning out everything else. Moreover, while a sandbox of constant blast beats can be a cool texture to work on top of (see Plague Organ or even Bríi), Evelyn is far stronger without fully blasting, either when it uses more electronica-focused beats or even the exceedingly rare times it abandons percussion completely to let the synths handle the relentless forward march. 

Primarily because of the drumming, Multidimensional Transformation quickly becomes a fatiguing listen. Since the pulse is so relentlessly consistent, the whole album becomes a muddled pool of ever-mutating synths and blast beats, and the album contains very few highlights or particularly memorable melodies even if some are quite pleasant unlike a Neurotech or Master Boot Record release. Moment to moment, Evelyn is fairly engaging even if frustratingly loud (and even more than a tad annoying with the drum tone and some of the bland guitar chugging à la The Dark Atom), but taken as a whole, Multidimensional Transformation does surprisingly little considering how hecticly active each track is. Once you’ve heard half a song, you’ve heard all the album has to offer, AND you’ll save yourself from going crazy at a barrage of quantized drumming. 

At first I really thought Multidimensional Transformation was terrible, but it grew on me tremendously with its sweeping synths and melodicism; however, in the end, the negatives outweigh the positives, and listening to Evelyn became a nuisance. This sure is more interesting than your average Nightwish clone, at least!

Recommended tracks: Programmed Dream
You may also like: The Dark Atom, Arkhtinn, Mesarthim, Gonemage
Final verdict: 4/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Facebook | Metal-Archives page

Label: independent

Evelyn is:
– Chorus (guitars, programming)
– Asteria (keyboards)

The post Review: Evelyn – Multidimensional Transformation appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: instrumental prog rock/metal, djent, electronica, jazz fusion (instrumental)
Recommended for fans of: Vildhjarta, Animals as Leaders, Plini, Tigran Hamasyan, The Comet Is Coming
Country: Germany
Release date: 15 December 2023

I’m tired. It’s the end of the year after a tough semester; I’ve heard well over a thousand albums in 2023; and December music release quality has drastically plummeted from the rest of the strong last quarter. Out of the slim pickings, Christopher forced upon me Art Against Agony’s fourth LP, the double album Sound of Inevitability, and it’s painful to review, both endlessly long and poorly produced, the two biggest hurdles for repeated listening. I hardly feel creative enough to adequately roast this when I could be refining my top ten of the year list, but I’ll do what I can. 

Art Against Agony are’t a typical band, however. No, they are a full on artistic collective, fusing hack philosophy, photography, videography, and performance art along with their music. All members wear goofy masks and put on stage names including: The Sorcerer, The Maximalist, The Twin, The Void, The Linq, and The Pun. The mask gimmick has been wearing thin for a decade at this point (Slipknot, Ghost, now Sleep Token), and the insufferability that comes through their philosophy writing on their site rubs me the wrong way, even as a fan of pretension. Also, The Sorcerer’s nipple is out in the band picture, and that alone ought to be an automatic point deduction—wtf, I didn’t consent to that.

Over the course of ninety-five minutes, Art Against Agony wears many faces: instrumental prog metal, djent, electronica, jazz fusion; unfortunately, none of them are worn particularly well. Often the creative collective stumbles across cool ideas—“She Who Thirsts” is the first of them with its interesting percussive line, with The Maximalist being a dedicated mridangam (a type of ancient percussion instrument) player and the best performer across the album—but even those ideas shortly transition into uninspired djent (who could’ve guessed with a song title like “At the Djentist”) or inappropriately abused electronica. Except for the focused electronica-focused tracks “Squirrel (бабник edit)” and “Salience Bias” which are much more engaging with their involved use of synths—with classic prog electronica arpeggiation fashion for the former and with modern IDM inspired beats in the latter—Art Against Agony abuses the synth by fusing it in a lackluster way with the metal elements, formlessly thrown in as a texture in the soggy mix. When focused on one (non djent) style, Sound of Inevitability is more convincing, but it’s a bit of a catch twenty-two since the genre switching is the one thing keeping the album at all engaging. Art of Agony needs to figure out what they do best and stick to that: I suggest sticking with the Tigran Hamasyan-esque polyrhythms and figuring out what works from there. 

However, Art of Agony have trouble keeping focus, and forays into jazz fusion and prog metal frequently fall flat, feeling like either uninspired Animals as Leaders ripoffs or just an unconfident, genre-questioning mess. All of these flaws are exacerbated by the production stifling Sound of Inevitability, stiff and electronica-centric. The digitized sound can pass with djent, but for the jazz fusion sections—or worse yet, the creative flute sections—the organic sound of the guitars clashes negatively with the inorganic beats underneath. Moreover, while the percussion is typically interesting and varied with a strong emphasis on polyrhythms, the guitarists simply aren’t up to snuff to play at the virtuosic level required for jazz fusion and prog metal; they try to keep up, but the entire project sounds extremely amateurish with the overly electronic production the cherry on top (I dislike maraschino cherries for the record). Moreover, the production is inconsistent between tracks, the tones and relative volumes of the assorted instruments often changing. Nu-jazz artists like George Clanton, Berlioz, and The Comet Is Coming are all successful mixes of jazz and electronica, and other artists like Tigran and even Animals as Leaders make strong arguments for the validity of these genre bends, but Art Against Agony don’t stand up to any comparisons. 

While Art Against Agony do make several attempts to be creative beyond arbitrary borders, perhaps none more engaging than the flute/jazz fusion/djent/electronica combo in “Hindsight Bias,” the project also doesn’t have nearly enough creativity or variety to justify subjecting the listener to anywhere close to ninety minutes of this, especially as a completely instrumental project: I’m sick of listening to Sound of Inevitability by the halfway point. The lack of unified sound makes the sprawling album all the more arduous to suffer through. I appreciate a lot of what Art Against Agony try to do when they switch genres and with their percussion style especially, but then they immediately go back to mediocre Animals as Leaders pastiche, inconsistent electronica, or any of the other failed experiments. Over and over—a lot of overs since its ninety-five hecking minutes long—this album frustrates me with a decent idea poorly executed. Now I’m gonna take a nap.

Recommended tracks: She Who Thirsts, Hindsight Bias, His Daughter’s Eyes
You may also like: Culak, The Dark Atom, Contemplation & Chrono.Fixion
Final verdict: 3/10

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

Label: independent

Art Against Agony is:
– The Sorcerer (guitars)
– The Maximalist (mridangam)
– The Twin (bass)
– The Void (guitars)
– The Linq (drums)
– The Pun (drums)

The post Review: Art Against Agony – Sound of Inevitability appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Post Rock, Progressive Rock, Trip Hop, Experimental, Avant-pop, Electronica (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Steven Wilson’s art rock/trip-hop/electronica focused albums, Massive Attack, Bjork, Portishead, Anna von Hausswolff 
Review by: Christopher
Country: Germany
Release date: 30 October, 2023

We try to keep our readers on their toes. It can’t all be masturbatory Nospūn noodling solo spam and The World is Quiet Here style Frankensteinian riffs stitched together to create an affront to god. You can’t keep listening to the same six bands, we have to push you out of your comfort zones and make you listen to something that’s, y’know, different. 

To that effect: Ophelia Sullivan is a composer, producer and musician based in Germany and Disposable Identity is their debut solo album, although they’ve previously produced electronica and experimental music under the monikers Ecstasphere and Aphexia, as well as composition for film and theater (and, interestingly for the purposes of a prog metal site, Sullivan has also provided live guest vocals for fellow Germans Soulsplitter who I reviewed last year—we’ve come full circle!) With this new solo project, Sullivan has hired a busload of guest musicians, including a string quartet and a small orchestra, to fulfill their musical vision.

Sullivan’s sense of arrangement recalls Steven Wilson on albums like Insurgentes and this year’s The Harmony Codex: neoclassical strings and piano often provide a driving force with occasion coups from heavier guitar riffs, while the percussion ranges from trip hop to rockier climes, and Sullivan’s vocals provide the melodic throughline. Opener “Hourglass” sets the tone, Sullivan’s vulnerable yet defiant vocals with a deftly dynamic softness, an eerie chiming microtonal motif, thick metal riffs and a rather nifty guitar solo, doomy percussion, and ending with lone layered vocal harmonies and mournful neoclassical strings—a progressive flow through a variety of soundscapes that feel united in purpose.

There are so many cool compositional ideas here: “Rest Your Trigger on My Finger” wields menacing neoclassical strings over intricate beats, all held together by Sullivan’s haunted melodies. “Blue” eerie guitar motif fades out gracefully… until a hard drum and bass groove powers the song back up, Sullivan’s glitching in the melee—and yet that guitar motif remains in the background, anchoring this more manic segue to the track’s overall disturbed vibe. Meanwhile the combination of The Cure-esque reverb-laden clean guitar and Massive Attack style strings over a trip hop beat on “The Game” make for a languid, immersively psychedelic vibe, teetering constantly upon the verge of an emotional precipice.

Sullivan characterises Disposable Identity as focused on biographical themes of mental health, otherness, sexuality and queerness, and while there’s a metaphorical opacity to the lyrics, one can nevertheless detect how those deeply personal themes are being evoked. There’s a sense of turmoil, of fracturing, of yearning. When Sullivan lets out a cry of “I’m just as formless as you, you won’t remember my voice, disposable identity” you feel something; an inarticulable thing buried deep inside, but it taps into something real. There’s a rich authenticity here, the feeling that not only is the music beautifully composed but that the lyrics come from somewhere profoundly relatable and sincere.

Sullivan plays with time signatures and polyrhythms: most of “Blue” alternates between a bar of 4/4 followed by a 5/4, that extra bar conferring nail biting tension, and most of “The Key” is in 7/4 and I think the bridge might be a bar of 4/4 followed by 6/4… how should I know, I’m a music reviewer, not a musician. At any rate, the prog credentials are certainly here both in complexity and genre-blending, and metal rears its head at times, too, as in the syncopated, almost djent-like riff that closes “The Key” or the riff redolent of In Absentia-era Porcupine Tree that bifurcates “Core.” Add to the mix those haunting strings and Daniel Gräupner’s vital piano work and the result is a rather potent chemical brew. 

Disposable Identity is a deeply promising debut, beautifully produced and composed, and with an astonishingly expansive and dynamic sound. Ophelia Sullivan’s experience with other musical ventures clearly laid solid foundations, and here they show themselves to be a consummate artist in absolute control of their vision, weaving a tapestry of influences into an effortlessly brilliant release.

Recommended tracks: Hourglass, Rest Your Trigger on My Finger, Blue
You may also like: Meer, Evan Carson, Oak, Lack the Low
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: Independent

Ophelia Sullivan is:
– Ophelia Sullivan (vocals, programming, composer, producer, mixer)

The post Review: Ophelia Sullivan – Disposable Identity appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Math Rock, Noise Rock, Experimental Rock (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Good Tiger, Closure in Moscow’s first and third albums, The Mars Volta, Eidola
Review by: Christopher
Country: France
Release date: 3 November, 2023

You shouldn’t judge an album by its cover, but that ghost is very appropriate for NORD’s latest ethereal release. With two albums under their belt, this French experimental math rock trio have taken time to craft something rather different on new EP, The Implosion of Everything That Matters. Their sophomore album, The Only Way to Reach the Surface, was an intense work of creative math rock which almost veered into blackgaze territory at times. At twenty-six minutes, follow-up release The Implosion of Everything That Matters forefronts the electronica influences that dominated the shorter, interlude-y tracks on their last album into their noisy rock style. 

On The Only Way to Reach the Surface that experimental math rock accounted for about 75% of their sound, while weird synth experimentation made up the remaining quarter; on The Implosion of Everything That Matters the ratio is flipped; hell, it’s more like 90%. The strange cyclical synth that opens “I. Candles” sets the tone for the record and NORD play with a lot of haunted sounding synth throughout,. “II. Truth Philters” is suffused by bittersweet organ swells, eventually drifting into a bridge that sounds like echoes of some haunted carnival over an infectious drum stomp, something that puts me in mind of Noctourniquet-era The Mars Volta. Meanwhile “III. Incantation” may be the most electronica-driven track on the album, replete with backing ambiences, buzzing synth bass, and some drum and bass inspired percussion.

Throughout The Implosion of Everything That Matters, Florent Gerbault’s anguished falsetto is wracked with emotion—coupled with the organ which often lurks in the background it makes for a rather disconcerting vibe. A guest performance from Yuki on “III. Incantation” provides haunted vocals and the recitation of something in Japanese which I can only imagine will be nihilistic. Though genre-wise this is a much less heavy release, emotionally The Implosions of Everything That Matters is an intense experience, running the gamut from funereal to disturbed.  

Moments of NORD’s former abrasive sound remain here and there. Dissonant synths and harsh vocals open “II. Truth Philters” in 7/4, just to remind you that this is ostensibly gritty math rock. The moments of harsh vocals and more noisy rock are few and far between, reserved for intros and climaxes. As a self-contained experiment it works but I do find myself missing NORD’s maniac older sound. I’ll never fault an artist for daring to evolve, but NORD are almost unrecognisable here and it’s not always for the better. 

While the harsher edges have been sanded down, NORD remain unabashedly experimental. Take “IV. Sexorcism” for example: the track is imbued with a Vangelis-like synthwave sensibility evocative of some dystopian city, bolstered by a synthetic percussion and a thick bass groove. The synths begin to go off-kilter, melting into a more irreverent section, perforated by a wraithlike sax solo overhead. Meanwhile, the elegiac title track has a funeral march-like beat with accompanying trumpet as though NORD are mourning for their own former sound, until segueing into a driving drum and bass groove with arpeggiated synth which builds to the final crescendo.

The Implosion of Everything That Matters is an intriguing evolution towards the uncanny for NORD, an experiment in alienated synths and a somewhat unhinged sense of sadness. It’s a record for a very particular mood which may limit its reach but it nevertheless taps into something deeply felt. I can’t quite get my head around it, but I mean that in a good way, I think. As much as I do wish a little more of their older sound remained in the DNA of this release, NORD remain an incredibly fresh voice in experimental rock who are absolutely worth listening to. 

Recommended tracks: II. Truth Philters, V. The Implosion of Everything That Matters
You may also like: The Mercury Tree, Black Peaks, Telomēre, Maraton
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Klonosphere – Facebook | Official Website

NORD is:
– Florent Gerbault (guitar, vocals)
– Romain Duquesne (bass, samples)
– Thibault Faucher (drums)
– Manuel Dufour (guitar, synth)

The post Review: NORD – The Implosion of Everything That Matters [EP] appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: dark ambient, modern classical, electroacoustic, post rock (instrumental)
Recommended for fans of: Steve Reich, Floating Points, Kali Malone, Krzysztof Penderecki, Murcof
Review by: Andy
Country: Kazakhstan/United Kingdom
Release date: 20 October 2023

Sitting outside in the rain listening to Polygon for the first time, a sudden urge to weep surged over me. Even before I knew the harrowing concept about Soviet nuclear testing in Kazakhstan, I could feel the ecological and cultural distress emanating from the gnarled beats and eerie violin of Galya Bisengalieva. When the twisted voices and choirs reared their heads in the background of “Polygon” and “Balapan” as if they’re pleading for escape, I physically shivered; Polygon is simply indispensable electronica/ambient. 

An extremely accomplished musician at this point, Bisengalieva has collaborated with several of the world’s most notable avant-garde and minimalist composers such as Steve Reich, Terry Riley, and Pauline Oliveros, all of whose work can be heard as key influences on Polygon: I believe that Bisengalieva has surpassed them. The pristine landscapes and poetry of “the Polygon” of the Kazakh steppe ooze through the first two tracks with their ambient tranquility. However, even these calm tracks are still cut through with a striking terror in their very essence. The following track “Polygon” is a clear threnody for these natural and cultural wonders obliterated by the four hundred and sixty-five nuclear tests done in the region. Above the incessant, pulsing electronic beat, Bisengalieva’s violin morphs between chords in a sublime drone, equal parts Bruit ≤’s life-affirming post rock and Penderecki’s terrifying, heart-wrenching lament for Hiroshima. My heart aches with each dissonant tension embedded in the layered violins, change of note, slowly morphing iteration of the beat. “Polygon” is a slowly mutating, breathing reminder of what remains after apocalypse—

“Chagan” shows Bisengalieva flexing more of her impressive compositional skills as a pizzicato violin intro is brilliantly transformed into an electroacoustic beat on the spot. The colossal low-end pulses baptize the listener in sound until the vivid “crying-out” of the violins starting at 2:20—these remind me of Golijov’s masterpiece Azul Concerto more than anything else with their vibrant texture and delicate yet overwhelming layering. Her reprisal of the beginning beat after her haunting violin part is both genius and unexpected. The next track, “Balapan,” sounds like an alien writing a melody with its inhuman harmonizing at the start, and the way she consistently morphs her violin melodies into a beat with cheeky electroacoustics is genuinely absurd. The songwriting is top notch for both the modern classical and electronica worlds. Including percussion for the first time in track six of seven is another bold move that pays in dividends. As such, the disorienting rhythm and subtly catchy main melody of “Balapan” leave me replaying sections over and over to elucidate what’s happening more deeply.

As with most electronica, Polygon needs to be played at too loud a volume for comfort to glean all one can from the album because of a substantial low-end emphasis, so unless you’re using perfect audio or else are willing to risk your hearing, you may not feel the music as much as you could; this is a shame because Bisengalieva has composed music which is simultaneously extremely intellectual, eminently corporeal, and resoundingly emotional. Beyond my desire for a more explicitly loud low-end, Polygon sounds absolutely perfect, nary a tone out of position while completely filling up the space in both channels. Played loudly, you really can feel every vibration ring through your body.

Polygon has left me with tears on my cheeks. I’m extraordinarily impressed by Bisengalieva’s abilities to utilize such a minimal palette—mainly violins and synths—and to wring so many creative ideas from it without leaving her established box. Everything feels cohesive and unified, yet every track is brimming with its own identity by virtue of how she manipulates her tools. The aesthetic vision of Polygon is top notch as is her violin playing. Once or twice a year, I find an album I’d never expect to resonate so much in me to really click, and Polygon makes me want to curl up into a ball and meditate in equal measures.

Recommended tracks: Polygon, Chagan, Balapan
You may also like: Osvaldo Golijov, Bruit ≤, Scarcity, Sabled Sun, Raphael Weinroth-Browne
Final verdict: 9/10

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

Label: One Little Independent Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Polygon is:
– Galya Bisengalieva (everything)

The post Review: Galya Bisengalieva – Polygon appeared first on The Progressive Subway.