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: Atmospheric black metal, dungeon synth, neofolk (Mixed vocals, mostly harsh)
Recommended for fans of: Summoning, Moonsorrow, Apocalypse Orchestra, Runescape music
Country: France
Release date: 21 March 2025

As I sit in stop-and-go nightmare rush hour traffic for the third time this week, I can’t help but think of the I Think You Should Leave with Tim Robinson sketch about the Darmine Doggy Door. At one point, Robinson looks directly at the camera and demands to know, ‘What the fuck is this world? What have they done to us? WHAT DID THEY DO TO US?‘ Of course, this is meant to be taken humorously in the context of a guy losing his mind over a pig in a Richard Nixon mask, but there is an undeniable truth to his sleep-deprivation-induced outburst. That one moment from Robinson’s sketch resonates so deeply due to the hostile architecture that comprises our modern world in both physical and cultural aspects. Frankly, I need to get the hell away from it sometimes, and there’s no better time to get involved in some escapism than an overlong drive home that does nothing but waste my and everyone else’s time, money, and energy. French black metallers Cercle du Chêne aim to hit that escapism sweet spot on debut Récits d’Automne et de Chasse (Stories of Autumn and the Hunt), a mix of dungeon synth and black metal depicting a group of wild beasts who convene under a tree to recount folk stories. Will you get lost in the tales they spin?

It’s a bit difficult to pin down whether Récits d’Automne et de Chasse is more of a black metal record or a medieval dungeon synth record—the two styles sit almost entirely in lockstep throughout its runtime, with Runescape-style MIDI tracks establishing a melodic and thematic framework while atmoblack guitars follow suit to cultivate tension and release. Récits luxuriates in a lackadaisical vibe, taking time to develop its ideas and gently approach climaxes with triumphant horns and Moonsorrow-flavored chants. This is less out of disinterest for the compositions and more out of an unshakeable desire to ‘stop and smell the roses’, allowing its myriad journeys to unfold at their own pace.

What works most in Récits‘ favor is its ineffable charm. Black metal is typically borne out of ugliness, anger, and aggression, and Cercle du Chêne are happy to subvert these principles entirely in the name of grand atmospheres and a ‘woodland fantasy creature’ aesthetic. The fervent tremolos and triumphant horns of “Le Trésor dans l’Onde Noire” (Treasure in the Black Wave) conjure imagery of a mouse in medieval warrior garb setting off on an adventure to conquer an evil king terrorizing their village and discover a legendary treasure in the process; dramatic organs and dirging guitar chords on “Dans le Crystal du Givre” (In the Frost Crystal) see a goose monk exploring an icy cavern only to find an enchanted crystal at its heart; and excited strings intertwine with woodwinds, harsh vocals, and group chants on “La Croix Entre les Bois” (The Cross between the Woods) as a party of travellers cautiously explore an unfamiliar and foreboding woodland. Though tracks like “Dans le Crystal du Givre” and “Un Duel de Rois” (A Duel of Kings) may come across a bit rough around the edges and plod along for a bit too much time in their middle sections, the MIDI synths that weave through Récits are just so god damn adorable that I can’t help but smile when I listen.

While the dungeon synth moments hit almost without fail, their impact would be significantly lessened without the presence of black metal adding some much-needed heft and tension. The buildup in the center section of “La Croix Entre les Bois”, for example, wouldn’t hit nearly as hard without the harsh vocal performance and powerful guitar layering. Additionally, the black metal satisfyingly takes center stage in the middle of “Aux Jours de Chasse” (In the Days of the Hunt), as an ominous synth break explodes into double-time blast beats and furious tremolos. While most of Récits is infectiously pleasant, this moment is particularly ugly and intense, wavering between aggressive instrumentation and delicate synth breakdowns into one of the record’s most grand conclusions. Though, as much as I adore the dungeon synth base, I do wish the black metal was let off the reins a bit at times, either exploring counterpoint ideas against the non-metal instrumentation to add complexity and texture or to simply switch up the pace a little. In its current state, the quality of the black metal ranges from serviceable to excellent, and in most cases, this is a function of how much the black metal is allowed to divert.

The slight lack of variety in Récits d’Automne et de Chasse’s metal moments gives me a tinge of concern in the back of my mind for how far this style can be explored, but these are concerns unfitting for an orphaned woodland grouse who just discovered they come from a line of renowned magicians. Récits is a debut brimming with charm that has me smiling through some of the most obnoxious and wasteful of human constructs. With a touch of polish and some more freely exploring black metal, the forest canopy is the limit; I am giddily excited for what’s to come next from Cercle du Chêne. Pick up a copy of Redwall and let’s forget that any of that ‘real life’ garbage exists for a little while.

Recommended tracks: La Croix Entre les Bois, Le Trésor dan l’Onde Noire, Aux Jours de Chasse, Sur les Toits d’une Tour
You may also like: Caladan Brood, Ashlands, Bakt, the works of Brian Jacques
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

Label: Antiq Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Cercle du Chêne is:
– La Griesche (vocals)
– Hyver (synths, guitars)
– Frère Loup (guitar)

The post Review: Cercle du Chêne – Récits d’Automne et de Chasse 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: Dark folk, neofolk (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Empyrium, Vàli, Ulver’s Kveldssanger, The Moon and the Nightspirit
Country: France
Release date: 7 March 2025

Songwriting in dark folk is a particularly tricky balancing act: too few elements and pieces come across as bland and stilted, and too much going on leads to a feeling of claustrophobia antithetical to the genre’s chthonic sensibilities. Additionally, a formula for success is somewhat unclear as compositions are often based in simplicity, atmosphere, and ‘vibes’. So what does a successful dark folk record sound like? Let’s discuss Sous l’Orage Noir – L’Astre et la Chute (Under the Black Storm – The Star and the Fall), the latest release from French multi-instrumentalist Wÿntër Ärvń, as a case study: will it bear a garden of earthly delights, or will we be left to fend for ourselves Under the Black Storm?

With a lighter and more gossamer approach to dark folk than 2021’s Abysses, Sous l’Orage Noir’s tracks are acoustic guitar-led pieces with a considerable use of woodwind, strings, and gentle percussion as accentuation. Every so often, though, Wÿntër Ärvń delivers a black metal twist through raspy bellows that cut through its misty aura. Along with harsh vocals, tracks like “Ad Vesperam” (In the Evening) even introduce brief moments of squealing dissonance in its backing instruments. Compositions often begin decidedly spacious, with “Appellé à l’Abîme” (Called to the Abyss), “Un Voile sur l’Azur” (A Veil over the Azure), and “L’Astre et la Chute” leaving plenty of negative space for their motifs to reverberate against. Pieces are wont to ebb and flow in layers, filling the emptiness with embellishments and texture without ever cresting too high in intensity.

A hallmark of dark folk is the relationship between natural beauty and sadness, and Sous l’Orage Noir’s compositions successfully culminate in a gorgeous and pastoral atmosphere that underlies a touch of darkness. “Ad Vesperam” exemplifies this the most bluntly, beginning with hypnotic and repetitive guitar work accentuated by warm cello swells. Near its end, though, the cellos turn quite sour, ruminating on dissonant bowing and backdropping Wÿntër Ärvń’s harsh vocals, conjuring a feeling of torment as the sun sets on a dying field. Opener “Une Voile sur l’Azur” takes a more subtle approach, gingerly moving from idea to idea in a way that gives an ineffable delicateness to its composition. In its first moments, “Une Voile” establishes evergreen imagery around spacious guitarwork while infusing an airy plaintiveness into its melodies. Subtle percussion builds in prominence over its runtime, but never overtakes the guitars. Later on, flutes and bagpipes reprise the central guitar idea, coming together like an ornate and fragile fabergé egg.

The interaction between guitars and any number of other instruments is strikingly prominent across Sous l’Orage Noir. “Appelé à l’Abîme” has a distinct focus on counterpoint between slowly tremoloing guitars and more languid picking to create a sense of simultaneous stillness and motion. Later in the track, the slow picking drops out to make room for earthen female vocals to gracefully coil around the tremolos. Closer “Ad Umbras” (To the Shadows) also features heavy interplay, entwining the guitars with a contemplative woodwind section before the reeds drop out in place of a deep and lurching choir. “Vingt Ans de Brouillard” (Twenty Years of Fog) features some of the most beautiful guitar work, a simple motif slowly encouraging along an array of clarinets and subtle choirs that intermittently respond to the guitar’s ideas. Any of these elements could stand on their own, but when brought together, it’s like watching wisps of smoke slowly dance around each other, urging a stillness in yourself to avoid disturbing its gentle swirls.

Sous l’Orage Noir is without a doubt an excellent showcase in both independence and synergy between instruments along with anguish and beauty, but where is there left to go after ‘beauty’? While every track is lovely—many of them touchingly so—there is a lack of through-line that ties each piece together, leaving a feeling that each track is an unrelated vignette. To Wÿntër Ärvń’s credit, there is a vague nautical theme in some of the song titles and album art, but a bit more effort to tie everything together or utilization of motifs across each track would help to create a more cohesive package. Additionally, each use of the vocals—whether it be cleans, harshes, or chanting—is magnificent, and Sous l’Orage Noir could stand to use them a bit more liberally. Tracks like “Ad Umbras” and “Vingt Ans de Brouillard” use vocals for a split-second or solely as a backdrop, and could benefit from bringing them to the forefront, similar to their use in “Appelé à l’Abîme”, “Ad Vesperam”, and “Sous l’Orage Noir”.

I walk away from Sous l’Orage Noir – L’Astre et la Chute with a sense of quietude: the record is an effortless listen with endless replayability, forging nuanced interactions between instruments while exhibiting a unique spin on dark folk through the use of harsh vocals. Despite its more intense elements, there is a fragility to its compositions that evokes a diaphanous tapestry to be cherished and held lightly. With an overall package that could be a touch more thematically related and a bit of underutilization of its vocals, Sous l’Orage Noir falls just short of being a dark folk landmark, but its blemishes aren’t going to stop me from indulging in its texturally and melodically rich vignettes.

Recommended tracks: Ad Umbras, Vingt Ans de Brouillard, Un Voile sur l’Azur, Appelé à l’Abîme
You may also like: October Falls, Ulvesang, Liljevars Brann, Sangre de Muérdago + Judasz & Nahimana
Final verdict: 8/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Antiq Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Wÿntër Ärvń is:
– Wÿntër Ärvń (guitars, vocals, percussion)
– Judith de Lotharingie (vocals)
– Laurene Tellen’Aria (harp)
– Geoffroy Dell’Aria (bagpipes, tin whistle, shakuhachi)
– Raphaël Verguin (cello)
– TAT (guitar)
– Vittorio Sabelli (clarinet)

The post Review: Wÿntër Ärvń – Sous l’Orage Noir – L’Astre et la Chute appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Post-black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: The Great Old Ones, Oranssi Pazuzu, Blut Aus Nord
Country: France
Release date: 14 February 2025

Sometimes, an album is undeniably massive. Whether in compositional scope, sound, conceptual ambition, or a combination of all three, a release will occasionally emerge that leaves you in a daze. Finishing the album feels like walking out of a dark movie theater on a bright day after watching an engrossing film—you’re suddenly transported back to reality before your brain can catch up. Wandering the shopping mall parking lot with a sense somewhere between wonder and disorientation, you drift toward your car and—oh, shit! It’s Valentine’s Day, and I forgot to grab my wife a card and some chocolates. I better head back…

Wilhelm, the February 14th release by post-black metal band Decline of the I, is one of those reality-warping albums. Admittedly, the effects of this dark, immersive work are especially stark as I write this review from sunny Southern California, genuinely surrounded by a view of palm trees and blue skies. But the point remains: Wilhelm is a vast, hefty record. For forty-five minutes, Decline of the I journeys through an expanse of bleak, blackened soundscapes and shifting dynamics, layering in bites of spoken philosophy and elements from an array of musical dimensions. To say Wilhelm is ambitious is to put it lightly, but ambition doesn’t count for much without execution. For the most part, the band reins in the album’s disparate pieces to deliver a dense, atmospheric experience that etches an early mark as one of 2025’s best.

Wilhelm holds no shortage of blast beats, tremolo riffing, or shrieks and howls; and it’s full of the patient builds and oscillations from calm to heavy that characterize post-metal. Opener “L’ Alliance Des Rats” rolls through all these conventions and gives an upfront taste of the album’s general sound, while also offering some of the distinctive ingredients used heavily later on—electronic percussion, monastic chants, ethereal choirs, bowed strings, and spoken word. The album’s quality is obvious from the first of its five tracks: the traditional black metal portions are straight infernal, and the slower, post-inspired sections are incredibly detailed and often lead to colossal payoffs. Meanwhile, the more eclectic features meaningfully enhance the atmosphere instead of sounding frivolous or gimmicky.

Sonic explorations abound, Decline of the I incorporates extended forays into dark trip-hop (most prominently in “Entwined Conundrum” and “Diapsalmata”) and bridges centered around layered choral singing (“L’ Alliance Des Rats”). Wilhelm’s tracks are further embellished by consistent violin and cello, ubiquitous choral harmonies and chants, and a few dissonant guitar leads—my favorite being the air-raid-siren tremolo that soars over the outro of “Éros N.” Even the spoken word passages and soundbites peppered throughout, which always run the risk of being trite, contribute to the album’s distinctive feel rather than cheapen it. Especially impressive is how the vocals, utilizing lower-register harshes and banshee-like screams, integrate amidst this all, knowing when to take the lead and when to provide backing texture. 

My initial focus on the record’s distinctive and experimental aspects shouldn’t be misinterpreted: the core band is also excellent. Decline of the I puts forward some of the more memorable guitar work I’ve heard in the genre lately, particularly the riff-fest that bursts out in the middle of ”Entwined Conundrum” and the melodic tremolos forming the base of “Éros N.” The slick drum performance is similarly outstanding, managing to form a backbone across wandering, unconventional compositions while supplying plenty of interesting rhythmic change-ups. These two instruments’ strong, steady presence helps support the album’s labyrinthine structure and bind together its many pieces. Being picky, I’d like a more audible and active bass, but despite its lack of stand-out moments, it provides just enough body to keep the album’s rich mix from sounding thin. 

Zooming out, Wilhelm’s grandiose compositions largely flow well. The slower, atmospheric movements are uniformly strong and meticulously crafted, and the band generally enters and exits them gracefully. But there are a few instances that feel as if Decline of the I wrote something worthy of including but couldn’t quite decide how to incorporate it: the trip-hop sections toward the beginning of “Entwined Conundrum” and “Diapsalmata,” for example, sound like standalone interludes; and the epic closing song, “The Renouncer,” feels like two or three separate tracks fused together. On the whole, though, Decline of the I executes its ambitious vision for Wilhelm with impressive cohesion, and the album plays as a captivating, complete work. 

Ultimately, Decline of the I delivers a record that compromises on neither the fierce blackened passages nor the detailed post-metal explorations, excelling handily at both. And the album’s several distinctive elements push it up a level—the listening experience is grand, dynamic, and plainly a lot of fun, sitting at just the right amount of excess. Although not a customary Valentine’s Day gift, Wilhelm swept me off my feet and carried me right into the bleak beyond

Recommended tracks: L’ Alliance Des Rats, Éros N
You may also like: The Ruins of Beverast, Panzerfaust, Inferno
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: Agonia Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Decline of the I is:
– A.K. (vocals, guitars, keyboards, programming)
– AD (bass, additional vocals)
– SK (drums)
– SI (vocals)

The post Review: Decline of the I – Wilhelm appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Cover art:  Neseblod Records (formerly Helvete), April 2024, by Grete Neseblod¹

Style: Black Metal, Blackgaze, Post-Metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Alcest, Harakiri for the Sky, Ghost Bath
Country: France
Release date: 31 January 2025

Because of black metal’s diabolical origins, I am always surprised by how much the genre has expanded beyond its purest form. While many newer acts in the scene still adhere to the corpse-painted, low-fidelity, satanic, musical chromaticism of the old guard, several branches have been grafted onto the deciduous black metal tree. Though still a stark and imposing sight at night, in the light of day you can see its colorful flora, fruit, and many shades of green leaves. I’m honestly grateful for this because even though I enjoy many aspects of traditional black metal, the genre didn’t click with me when we were first introduced in my youth. Even today, I can’t stomach it in large doses. Not the pure, uncut cocai—er, black metal at any rate. For every bit of Darkthrone I consume, I need an equal or greater amount of something in the vein of Numenorean or Obsequiae to take the edge off.

Enter La Saignée, the “debut” LP from France’s Zéro Absolu—the band formerly known as Glaciation. The name change was unfortunately a legal necessity since a member who was fired from the group (Nicolas Saint-Morand, aka RMS Hreidmarr) quickly ran to register the trademark and release an album under the name Glaciation. I can only wonder why the original members didn’t do this before releasing both an EP (1994, 2015) and an LP (Sur les falaises de marbre, 2020) under their original moniker. The Bandcamp page for La Saignée mentions that the lyrical themes “[confront] the enemies of the band and the metal scene in general.” Being a non-French speaker—but fluent in another romance language (Spanish), and having some real-world experience with yet another (Portuguese)—I didn’t need to fully rely on Google Translate to confirm this for me. Take this bit from the title track, for instance:

Oh, did I mention that Saint-Morand was purportedly fired over alcoholism issues? The lyrics in general are rife with the more colorful synonyms for urine and fecal matter, and evoke a passionate fury through their metaphors. Which, if you don’t understand French I don’t think you’d ever know, because the music itself—despite plenty of blast beats, distorted guitars, and almost entirely harsh vocals—for the most part is not angry. Made up almost entirely of traditional western minor keys and harmonies, the melodic components of La Saignée are more somber than seething, more lamentation than lambaste. Combine that with the healthy dose of structureless ambient post-metal (no verses or choruses are to be found here), and we’re sitting pretty on one of the recently grafted branches of the black metal tree.

La Saignée has two songs: the title track, which means “The Bloodletting,” and the closing track “Le Temps Détruit Tout” meaning “Time Destroys All.” The former is a twenty minute pilgrimage into the essence of Zéro Absolu—where sad chord progressions and arpeggios transition into tremolo picked indignation. A clean guitar interlude then carries you into my favorite bit of the song, where hypnotic synths accompany blast beats and anxiously strummed power chords that morph into an emotional release in half time; the guitars letting open chords ring while a xylophonic synth hovers in over the top of it all, lightly caressing the soundscape with a beauty that all but brings a tear to your eye. Thus is the magic of the daylight viewing of this genre’s tree. At this point, we are still in for twelve more minutes of the song.

Which brings me to my main gripe with La Saignée: the spoken word. On an album with two tracks that go for about half an hour, a few samples of monologues and dialogues (what their origin is I haven’t been able to discern) occur that take up a healthy chunk of the run time. The title track does this on more than one occasion. The closer does so right before an extended and repetitive synth-only section channeling Vangelis, which is honestly gorgeous, but goes on for about four minutes and wears out its welcome. These elements wouldn’t be a big deal—maybe hardly worth a mention—on an album pushing an hour, but on the shortest of LPs it’s glaring. Still, Zéro Absolu nurture the black metal tree with care. Other highlights include the second clean guitar interlude in the title track, with a descending arpeggiation and melody that remind me of Jeff Buckley of all people, and the chunky riff that closes out “Détruit” and its accompanying synth—an appropriate send off for La Saignée.

In the end, La Saignée sprouts greenery that belongs on black metal’s evolving tree. The esoteric ideas present on this release might break branches on other saplings, but the graft here is too strong to do more than bend the bough, this orchard’s sprout too deeply rooted for the drama surrounding Zéro Absolu to fell its trunk. The emotional and psychological release prepares the way for some hefty releases going forward: a bloodletting indeed.

Recommended tracks: Both of them
You may also like: Isleptonthemoon, Together to the Stars, Nishair
Final verdict: 7/10

Related links: Spotify

Label: Art of Propaganda – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Zéro Absolu is:
V – Vocals, texts
HM – Guitars
FMD – Keys and arrangements
IS – Bass
RR – Drums

1. This photo is from the aftermath of a fire at Neseblod Records in Oslo, Norway; a well known record shop in the area. ︎

The post Review: Zéro Absolu – La Saignée appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Gothic metal, industrial metal, alternative metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Lacuna Coil, Epica, Megara, Ankor
Country: France
Release date: 10 January 2025

I find the French metal scene is much like the Italian metal scene in that the bands who are interested in exporting culture by singing in their native tongue seem few and far between. Imagine that even the biggest French metal band in the world, when playing on the biggest stage in the world, in their native country, singing a metal version of a traditional folk song, couldn’t help but throw an English verse into it.¹ I just had to fucking roll my eyes and laugh. What an achievement for Anglophone metal, I guess. So when I find a band that sings in their native tongue, I’m immediately more interested in listening to that than I would be in listening to another similar band who sings in English, and today that brings me to Parisians ELYOSE and their newest album Évidence. A tasty blend of djenty riffs, industrial synths, and gothic atmosphere, neatly packaged with a glossy and tight production, there’s enough earworms here to keep you happily humming along even if your only experience with the French language is the sizing at Starbucks. 

Évidence has a very defined and crisp sound that is in contrast to the more loosely cinematic or theatrical feel of the symphonic and gothic metal style. Guitarist Anthony Chognard opts instead for sharp, aggressive djent riffing in the vein of Australian progressive pop metal outfit Voyager or even Mick Gordon‘s DOOM soundtracks but never straying too far from the gothic/industrial influence: in this way I’m reminded of later Lacuna Coil releases more than something like Nightwish. Chognard is also in charge of drums, and they sound massive and play well with the stop-start guitar work, often coming through in double-kick bursts and keeping the energy up, even adding a blast-beat section in “Immuable” punctuated by a staccato vocal that sounded really sinister.

ELYOSE really shines in their use of synths on Évidence to add texture, sometimes creating ambiance with soft pads (“Abnégation”) and at other times playing complex arpeggiated leads as an intensifier before a heavy intro (“Ascension Tracée”). The synths are a good way of differentiating sections and creating a sense of movement within a track, and when that filter opens up you know some shit’s about to go down. The symphonic and electronic sounds sit well in the mix and do well not to overpower the vocals of singer Justine Daaé, who sits comfortably in her expansive range, varying from haunting and powerful high notes to a more alternative/nu-metal-inspired almost-rap cadence (“Mission Lunaire”, “Tentatives Échouées”). 

The use of decidedly pop elements across Évidence lend it a more accessible sound: the song structures are generally on the more conventional side and the durations don’t drag out too long; the djent influence in the riffing generally lacks complexity; the aforementioned alternative metal vocal style is very pop-coded, and ELYOSE favors electronic or metalcore breakdowns with the spotlight on the vocals rather than guitar solos. That’s all a little cliché but it works well enough within the broader idea. ELYOSE aren’t trying to reinvent the wheel or break new ground here, and I find myself often drawing comparisons with their 2023 release Déviante. While I applaud them for sticking to a formula that works, I wonder if maybe they could’ve been a bit more adventurous with their soundscapes and arrangements. 

Évidence is a fun, uncomplicated, 40-ish minute romp, with lots of hooky electronic parts, rhythmic groove, and a penchant for getting vocal melodies stuck in your head. And I want to extend praise for the mostly-French track listing that adds a certain je ne sais quoi to the experience. It’s always a pleasure to hear a band put out a release in their native language even if it narrows the market a little bit—and to the naysayers who may complain about not understanding the lyrics, I posit that they seldom lodge the same complaints against extreme metal outfits with harsh vocals. ELYOSE are obviously skilled at what they do, but I’d love to see them expand on it a little with the next release.

Recommended tracks: “Tentatives échouées”, “Prête au combat”, “Théogyne 2.0”
You may also like: Manigance, Vilivant, Lisa Dal Bello
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Independent

ELYOSE is:
– Justine Daaé (vocals, keyboards, programming)
– Anthony Chognard (guitars, bass, drums)

1. Gojira – Mea Culpa (Ah! Ça ira!) ︎

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