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: experimental black metal, psychedelic black metal, dissonant black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Oranssi Pazuzu, Blut Aus Nord, Ulcerate
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: 1 August 2025

A couple of my non-metal friends asked me the difference between black metal and death metal at dinner the other day, and I struggled to come up with a sufficient answer before finally deciding on “black metal focuses on atmosphere; death metal on bludgeoning.” It’s a drastic oversimplification, but how else would you describe the minutiae of extreme metal subgenres to people who would hear both as offensive noise? I was relatively proud of my off-the-cuff answer. British psychedelic black metal band Sea Mosquito certainly fit my miniature description of black metal as a wave of guitar, synth, and drums washes over the listener for forty-four minutes on Majestas. The record can be oppressively nightmarish, but without many distinct riffs, the atmosphere the group conjures is key to their success. 

The guitar parts function in the same manner as the synths—a background for the drums and rare lead guitars. From the swirly album opener “Organs Dissolved in Lacquer” to the dissonant closer “To Look upon Your Own Skeleton,” you are baptized in tremolo picking, awash in ambient synths. Occasionally, Sea Mosquito blesses the listener with a cleaner guitar tone, providing a lead above the murk like on “In Reverence of Pain.” Those moments with something more concrete to grab onto are godsends amidst the dark, hellish undercurrent. Beyond the guitars, the drums on Majestas are strong and dynamic. The drummer transitions between nice blast beats like on “In Reverence of Pain” to being the center focus like at 3:00 in “Organs Dissolved in Lacquer,” where he does monstrous cascading lines as if he provides the riff. While the rest of the band waffles about on their instruments, he carries Sea Mosquito’s inertia and rhythm—without him, Majestas has no movement.

Weirdly, Sea Mosquito leave the vocals drowning in the shadows while the acerbic highs would do well to create some clearer tension in their sound. When the vocals take center stage—the spoken harshes heralding the climax of “Ascension” and the spoken Arabic in the ghazal in “Ode to Wine” notably—are the moments when Majestas reaches its full potential. The lyrics, while difficult to parse except when vocalist Nuun switches into a more spoken register, are always interesting, contributing excellently to the cult-like atmosphere. My favorite track, “Ascension,” is elevated by its critique of postmodernism, with a crystal-clear uttering of “you will never feel the power of the sublime” leading into a bright, expansive, yet oppressive wall of sound as a climax. Many of the lyrics are inspired by Romanian religious scholar Mircea Eliade, and the literary slant is one of the album’s strongest assets in terms of atmosphere-crafting. 

But despite the many atmospheric strengths of Majestas, the emphasis on that aspect of their sound is the record’s downfall. Hardly a memorable moment is to be found in most of the tracks on the record, as it becomes an amorphous slog, more focused on textural style than songwriting substance. The album is nightmarish, psychedelic, and literary, yet the lack of sharp songwriting and forgettable riffs, while also mixing the vocals too low, is too much to overlook, leaving Sea Mosquito to be just another dissoblack album to add to the pile.

Recommended tracks: Ascension, In Reverence of Pain, Ode to Wine
You may also like: Decline of the I, The Great Old Ones, Haar, Omega Infinity, Noise Trail Immersion
Final verdict: 6/10

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

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

Sea Mosquito is:
– Nuun – Voice
– Fas – Spirit
– Akmonas – Soma

The post Review: Sea Mosquito – Majestas appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive black metal, symphonic black metal (mixed vocals, mostly harsh)
Recommended for fans of: Ihsahn, Arcturus, Fleshgod Apocalypse, Dimmu Borgir, Septicflesh
Country: Georgia
Release date: 16 May 2025

The Progressive Subway isn’t just for local transit; our tracks are laid across the globe. You can hop aboard and ride to lands of Brazilian atmoblack, Norwegian prog rock, Canadian post-metal, Romanian blackgaze, Mexican tech death, or Greek gothic/industrial—and that’s just picking some reviews randomly from our site’s front page while I write this. In fact, as I look now, our ten most recent reviews cover bands from ten different countries. Progressive music is wonderfully global, and we’ve happily traveled to most corners of the world to cover it. 

But there’s still fresh ground to chart, and today the Subway has stopped somewhere new: Georgia. Not the U.S. state—we found ourselves there earlier this year, covering Tómarúm’s extraordinary release. Rather, we’re straddling Eastern Europe and West Asia in the country of Georgia, here to check out progressive black metal act Im Nebel. In their latest album, Hypocrisis, the band liberally blend symphonic elements into ten short, blackened tracks with plenty of progressive flair. It’s just the sort of thing the Subway was built to seek out. Let’s see whether the trip out east was worth the trek.

Despite its cold, dystopian cover art, Hypocrisis immediately strikes as theatrical. Its symphonic embellishments and dramatic clean vocals reflect a Baroque influence that brings a king’s halls to my mind, and across the album there’s a dark but quirky atmosphere—think Arcturus’s La Masquerade Infernale. Plainly put, the music is fun. This probably isn’t what Im Nebel were going for, seeing as the band describe Hypocrisis as “a bleak yet thought-provoking journey through the contradictions of modern existence … [that] explores the duality of human nature, inner darkness, deceptive truths, and the fragile boundary between the spiritual and the physical.” Somber stuff. Nevertheless, the twisted piano and staccato orchestral touches opening the album in “Prolog” set a stage that promises to be more playful than dire, and the rest of the album plays along. 

Standout track “Life” best shows off Im Nebel’s strengths: relatively straightforward but catchy riffs that leave plenty of room for symphonic elements to shine, a well-balanced use of harsh vocals and theatrical singing, and a compositional structure that’s not complicated but holds enough room for variety and surprises to keep things interesting. The track’s singable chorus is particularly infectious, with emphatic piano complemented by choppy guitar. In a similar vein, “Inside Out” also features simple but memorable interplay between the piano and guitars, as well as a melodic guitar solo that leads into a heavy outro with a mix of orchestral accents. Despite being the album’s longest cut, “Inside Out” falls just short of the five-minute mark. As with most of the tracks, it’s packed to the brim with ideas and would benefit from a slightly longer composition, giving the ideas space to repeat and evolve. But the short runtimes undeniably make the songs more accessible. And whether it’s the dark, music-box-like intro of “Corridors of Insanity,” the lovely acoustic guitars that fill “When Day Comes After Night,” or the riff salad that forms the center of “Smiling Faces,” Im Nebel keep Hypocrisis varied and entertaining. 

As enjoyable as the album is, however, its production isn’t convincing. The symphonic elements sound far from authentic or robust, and the core instruments all lack just a bit of punch. Unfortunately, this gives Hypocrisis an amateurish feel that undermines some truly interesting musical ideas. The band also seem to struggle with transitions. The introductory “Prolog” moves abruptly into “Where Horizon Starts” without any semblance of connection between the tracks. Similarly, “When Day Comes After Night” has an acoustic outro that clearly sets up the next song, but alas, the following track begins with a completely new idea, jolting the listener. Hypocrisis’s fumbled transitions aren’t just between songs, but also within them—”Corridors of Insanity,” as one example, builds enticingly through a prolonged intro, then right when it’s about to open up, a jarringly unfitting riff kills the momentum. All in all, Hypocrisis sounds more like a collection of ideas than a cohesive album. 

Yet, even with its flaws, Hypocrisis remains an engaging listen. Its quirky atmosphere, compositional diversity, and catchy, standout moments make it feel refreshingly distinct among progressive black metal releases—and on balance, these positives outweigh the album’s shortcomings in production and cohesion. Although Hypocrisis won’t have us staying in Georgia for too long, it was enough to make the Subway’s first trip out here worthwhile.

Recommended tracks: Life, Smiling Faces, Inside Out
You may also like: Lamentari, Belnejoum, Shade Empire
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Octopus Rising (an Argonauta Records trademark) – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Im Nebel is:
– Grigol Lobjanidze (guitars)
– Nick Rukhadze (drums)
– Alexandre Gurchumelia (bass, vocals)
– Michael Lenz (guitars, vocals)

The post Review: Im Nebel – Hypocrisis appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: atmospheric black metal, progressive black metal (mixed vocals, mostly harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Wolves in the Throne Room, Panopticon, Kaatayra, Mare Cognitum
Country: Brazil
Release date: 9 May 2025

An artist’s first few albums can only be compared against the greater canon. For an artist like Vauruvã’s Caio Lemos (Kaatayra, Bríi, et al.) who has twenty albums under his belt, though, evaluating a new album against his own oeuvre is the natural thing to do. Further, his style is entirely peerless (after his first two more straightforward atmoblack releases), a signature sound permeating any genre he’s attempted—from his trance-infused black metal (Bríi) and dungeon synth (Bakt) to darkwave (Rasha) and a return to atmoblack (Vestígio). So how does Mar de Deriva stack up against Caio Lemos’ extensive discography?

At first, Vauruvã was an improvisatory project from Lemos with vocalist Bruno Augusto Ribeiro, melding traditional black metal with the Caio Lemos Touch— since metal and improvisation rarely go together, it’s certainly an interesting experiment. However, the first two albums under Vauruvã were among the bottom of Lemos’ releases in quality, slightly underwhelming due to their emphasis on pure black metal. Mar de Deriva drops the improv aspect of prior Vauruvã albums and instead approaches the average sound of all Lemos projects. I hear touches of Kaatayra, Bríi, and especially Vestígio here. The loss of Vauruvã’s distinct identity among Lemos’ various projects is a tad disappointing—I’d love to see how far improvisation could be pushed in black metal—but Mar de Deriva is all the better for it, easily Vauruvã’s strongest album to date.

Structured as a triptych, much like his 2023 album Vestígios, Mar de Deriva glides between ideas seamlessly whilst growing in intensity from movement to movement. The three tracks flow together as if a part of one larger epic, although they all follow an identical, predictable structure: a slow, folky start building into ripping black metal riffs, concluded by an eerily calm resolution. Mar de Deriva’s ebbs and flows are natural, and listening to the release is like drifting through a surreal dream—even the harsh vocals and distorted guitars merely add a hazy layer atop the free-flowing hallucination. 

Mar de Deriva has moments with the most ominous gravitas of Lemos’ career thus far, such as in the beginning of the album’s closer “As Selvas Vermelhas No Planeta dos Eminentes,” which is backboned by dramatic percussion and darkly cinematic synths. But contrasted with the obscured darkness are moments of extreme levity, full of illusive ethereality. After the initial riff-centered section to start “Os Caçadores,” for instance, the track pauses before erupting in a barrage of blast beats and harsh vocals over a tranquil synth motif. The ending of that track is almost uncanny with its subdued beauty, full of atmospheric synth, clean vocalizations, arpeggiated acoustic guitars, and bird chirping—how can music sound so peaceful and comforting yet strangely detached? Lemos blessedly utilizes his acoustic guitar playing at several points in the project, too, with the highlight coming in the final few minutes of “As Selvas Vermelhas No Planeta dos Eminentes”; the section is reminiscent of his magnum opus Só Quem Viu o Relâmpago à Sua Direita Sabe with its trem-picked arpeggios acting in harmony with the energetic rhythm. 

While Mar de Deriva features many of Lemos’ greatest individual riffs, his playing on opener “Legado” comes across as slightly sloppy; it doesn’t detract from the liminal dreaminess of the track, but the tighter guitar performance on the next two tracks is stronger. Lemos uses every trick from his extensive discography, but he underutilizes some of my favorites on Mar de Derica, particularly his ever-improving clean vocals. His lulling incantations are a soothing counter to his shrieky harshes and complement his synth tones.

Minor quibbles aside, Caio Lemos has delivered. Mar de Deriva is a wonderful record, its atmosphere utterly sublime. Vauruvã mixes stormy black metal sections with rays of sunlight bursting through the clouds, and the listener floats along in the dreams Lemos creates. So, although this record isn’t quite a crowning gem for Lemos at this stage in his career, its diaphanous beauty through searing riffs successfully combines some of the best traits across his body of work to an indisputably excellent result. There is no other artist like Caio Lemos—no artist who drops masterpieces seemingly at will. This is yet another.

Recommended tracks: Os Caçadores, As Selvas Vermelhas No Planeta dos Eminentes
You may also like: Bríi, Negura Bunget, Vestígio, Salqiu
Final verdict: 8/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Instagram | Metal-Archives

Label: independent

Vauruvã is:
– Caio Lemos (instruments)
– Bruno Augusto Ribeiro (vocals)

The post Review: Vauruvã – Mar de Deriva appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: avant-garde black metal, progressive black metal, dissonant black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Thy Catafalque, Oranssi Pazuzu, Enslaved, Blut Aus Nord, Imperial Triumphant
Country: Netherlands
Release date: 28 March 2025

I know lots of music, literature, and visual art. I know plenty of music inspired by literature; literature inspired by art; visual art inspired by music; well all six combinations, you get it. Grey Aura’s Zwart Vierkant albums—Slotstuk is the follow-up and conceptual sequel to their 2021 album—are the first album I’ve ever heard based on a book that’s based on artwork. Slotstuk follows the second half of Ruben Wijlacker’s novel De Protodood in Zwarte Haren, in which our main character Pablo is seduced by the world of Supremist art—he follows his obsession by unveiling the void as his artwork, representative of the death of the physical realm. The concept is intense, inspired by the freakiest of the Modernists, and Grey Aura certainly have the appropriate style of music to back it up. So the question remains: is the music good enough to make me succumb to the void?

Grey Aura’s style on Zwart Vierkant: Slotstuk is intense, heady, and thrilling avant-garde black metal similar to their Hungarian peers Thy Catafalque. On each non-interlude track (there are three primarily Spanish guitar interludes), Grey Aura begin with a heavy riff centered around some warped idea of a melody, using varied and punishing drumming to force the track forward at a brisk march. Rhythmically alternating between a manic groove I don’t know whether to headbang or bust a move to and voracious blast beats, Slotstuk doesn’t stay still and proves Seth van de Loo to be one of the most promising percussionists in the scene. The guitars push back against the direct attack of the rhythm, lapping around each other in increasingly complicated circles, skirting around the melody, until they’ve nowhere left to go; in these moments, the music collapses in on itself, overwhelmed by the noise (my favorite example is only a minute into the album on “Daken als Kiezen”). Exhausting but satisfying, the constantly tense songwriting and dizzying riffs are an incredible tool to build tracks around. Grey Aura display an uncanny ability to shove full-fledged crescendos into only a minute or so of time.

Backing up the prominent guitar and drum parts is a small cast of different instruments. What stood out to me on 2021’s Zwart Vierkant was Grey Aura’s use of rather eclectic instrumentation, from a range of percussion styles to horns and acoustic guitars. All of these remain on Slotstuk but in subdued fashion; the result is a potentially less gimmicky sound. However, as much as gimmicks don’t necessarily make for good songwriting, Slotstuk is a tad less interesting. It’s a shame only the shorter tracks like “Nachten Zonder Dagen” have trombone and tuba because—let’s be honest—who doesn’t want those prominent on their avant-black album? Like the prior installment in the album duology, Sylwin Cornielje’s bass is produced fantastically and is the stitch keeping the self-fraying music together. Amidst the chaos, the chunky and often contrapuntal bass lines are all one can track to keep oneself sane, like on “De Ideologische Seance” or the brutal “Waarin de Dood Haar Kust.”

Clearly, Slotstuk is not for the faint-hearted—potent and harsh even in small doses. Ruben Wijlacker’s vocals make the already hard-to-approach album all the more difficult to appreciate. When I visited our blog’s glorious founder Sam in Amsterdam last, he yelled at me in Dutch to the effect of ‘turn that nonsense off’ when I put on my favorite comfort music, Imperial Triumphant. Well, being screamed at in German is scary; being screamed at in Dutch is just sort of confusing, albeit intriguing. This is precisely what Grey Aura’s vocals are, and I don’t really know if it works because they’re neither manic enough (something like Le Grand Guignol) nor varied enough (Thy Catafalque) for the style. Wijlacker’s vocals aren’t as impressive as the instrumentation around him.  

Just like his unceasingly shouting vocal style, the music can be too intimidating for its own good. Grey Aura play with dynamics—I mentioned their mini crescendoes—and they certainly have the cutesy little interludes, but Slotstuk is constantly a bit too overwhelmingly dense. For instance, while the blast beats are admirably metronomic, I find van de Loo’s usage of extremely intricate, almost danceable grooves far more intriguing. Moreover, the grooves don’t sacrifice heaviness but transfer the massive amounts of energy Grey Aura store into a more inspired package—when they’re focused on blast beats, they sound much more like a standard dissoblack bands than when the drumming and percussion is more varied.

Zwart Vierkant: Slotstuk can be as dense as a black hole and took many, many listens for me to grapple with its contents, and in that regard, it is an overwhelming success. It tears apart its own reality and internal logic as each song grows until the inevitable crumpling. The black void box is real. Although they de-emphasized several of Zwart Vierkant’s best elements, Slotstuk is a fitting conclusion to the saga of Pablo our painter, and I think I may have been driven mad trying to review this. As intended.

Recommended tracks: Daken als Kiezen, Een Uithangbord van Wanhoop, Waarin de Dood Haar Kust, Slotstuk
You may also like: Dystopia, Am I in Trouble?, Dødheimsgard, Arcturus, Hail Spirit Noir, Haar, Sigh, Schammasch, Skythala, Thantifaxath, Convulsing, Veilburner, Ὁπλίτης
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Avantgarde Music – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Ruben Wijlacker – Vocals, electric guitar, acoustic guitar, synthesizer
Tjebbe Broek – Electric guitar, acoustic guitar, Spanish guitar
Sylwin Cornielje – Bass
Seth van de Loo – Drums, percussion

Ruben Schmidt – Cello
Alberto Pérez Jurado – Tuba, Trombone

The post Review: Grey Aura – Zwart Vierkant: Slotstuk appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive death metal, progressive black metal (mixed vocals, mostly harsh)
Recommended for fans of: Ne Obliviscaris, An Abstract Illusion, Fallujah, Wilderun
Country: Georgia, United States
Release date: 04 April 2025

My knowledge of art history is limited, as is my understanding of visual art, but I’ll go to a few museums a year to get my required dose of culture and keep the illusion of sophistication alive. Even if I don’t fully appreciate the paintings, there’s one type that always leaves me awestruck: the big-ass painting. The canvas that occupies an entire wall. The painting so epic in scope it draws in ignorant tourists like me through sheer magnitude, even though none of us can offer more than, “Wow, that thing’s huge. Pretty colors, too.”

There’s a certain brand of modern progressive death metal that’s tantamount to the big-ass painting. Bands like Ne Obliviscaris, An Abstract Illusion, and Wilderun are putting out albums so ambitious, epic, and grand that, whether they resonate or not, their enormity alone should knock the listener into a state of awe. Fortunately, I’m better at comprehending music than visual art, and many of these epics sit among my favorite modern works—they strike me the same way the immense paintings are probably intended to. Apparently plotting to join this distinguished group of artists, Atlanta-based Tómarúm have grabbed a vastly oversized canvas and painted it with their sophomore LP, Beyond Obsidian Euphoria. I won’t bury the lede: this work makes a worthy case for inclusion in the hallowed halls of big-ass prog death.

Holding nearly seventy minutes of dense, nuanced compositions, Beyond Obsidian Euphoria is an intimidating chunk of music. But Tómarúm provide plenty of hooks and lighter instrumental passages that serve as aural footholds, allowing the listener to regroup along the journey—and what a journey it is. After about a minute of airy synth swells and a delicate motif sitting on top, the album’s opener bursts forth with frenetic drums and bass accompanied by soaring guitar leads before transitioning into an intricate, techy verse. Emblematic of the album as a whole, the ten-minute track wanders through mind-bending riffs and off-kilter rhythms, melodic refrains, a bass-driven bridge with acoustic guitar and synth accents, and harmonious guitar solos. With each band member holding a vocal credit in the album notes, a mixture of throaty howls, low growls, stoic cleans, and melodic singing tells the album’s tale: one of striving to rise from the depths of despair, seeking transcendence and triumph.

The despair-to-triumph concept underlying Beyond Obsidian Euphoria is ever-present in the album’s atmosphere, which oscillates through all shades of dark and light, enhanced by ubiquitous synth touches and diverse vocals widely covering the tonal and emotional spectrums. The most consistent feature is meandering guitar leads that ring gloomy yet hopeful—bittersweet melodies floating over blasting drums and dexterous bass. It’s impossible not to compare the feel to that of Fallujah, who have mastered the art of using gliding guitars and turbulent rhythms to build impactful soundscapes. Perfectly complementing Beyond Obsidian Euphoria’s atmosphere is its earthy and organic production, applying just enough polish for each instrument to stand out while avoiding the plastic, sonic sheen that coats many modern albums.  

Beyond Obsidian Euphoria is most impressive in its holistic execution of a wildly ambitious vision, but plenty of distinct moments stand out. For one, the way the immaculate, whimsical instrumental “Introspection III” carries right into the cataclysmic opening moments of “Shallow Ecstasy”—like black storm clouds sweeping in to fill previously gossamer skies. Or the bass solo in “Blood Mirage” followed by a contrabass solo in the next track, “Halcyon Memory: Dreamscapes Across the Blue.” And even having gone numb to guitar solos over the years, my brain locked right onto those strewn throughout “Shed this Erroneous Skin.” Perhaps the album’s high point, Tómarúm throw everything they have at you in the fourteen-minute penultimate track, “The Final Pursuit of Light”: from rolling, blackened riffs to tasteful dissonance, drumming that exhibits inhuman endurance, and an abundance of bass guitar flourishes. Meanwhile, Opethian influence shines through the track’s middle section with Åkerfeldt-esque growls over punchy minor chords, dark and soulful guitar leads, and groovy, atmospheric bridges built on top of clean guitars in Ghost Reveries style. The song is a grab bag of captivating ideas performed ridiculously well. And if all this weren’t enough, the relatively short closing track brings back the album’s opening motif, tidily putting a bow on this behemoth.

We couldn’t expect an album this massive to be without some cracks, and fortunately Beyond Obsidian Euphoria’s are few. Although the vocal barrage, evidently coming from all five members, keeps the sprawling tracks fresh, no performance is particularly noteworthy. The differing harsh vocals are average for the most part, and, if being generous, the cleans are at best serviceable in context—they’re welcome for the variety they add but aren’t always in key or tonally compelling. The opener’s monotone chorus and the awkward cleans in “Shallow Ecstasy” are a couple of spots where the vocals dip from neutral to negative. Moreover, as with nearly any album of this length, some of it begins to blur together. “Halcyon Memory” and “Silver, Ashen Tears,” while enjoyable on their own, don’t quite distinguish themselves as much as the other tracks. Then again, if Beyond Obsidian Euphoria were trimmed to a more concise length, it just wouldn’t hold the same grandeur. And, considering how extraordinary most of the album is, its few issues are mere drops in the metaphorical ocean.

All in all, Tómarúm have done it: their latest big-ass painting deserves to be displayed in the halls of modern progressive death metal. Maybe Beyond Obsidian Euphoria won’t be the main exhibit, but wherever it’s hung, it’s every bit worthy of the spot. Tómarúm envisioned an album frighteningly large in scope and shaped it into an intricate, immersive, and rewarding work. As excited as I am to see how the band fills their next sonic canvas, there’s certainly no hurry—after spending several hours with this one, I’m still uncovering new layers to appreciate.

Recommended tracks: Shed This Erroneous Skin, The Final Pursuit of Light
You may also like: Orgone, Disillusion, Iapetus, Dessiderium, Amiensus, Virvum
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: Prosthetic Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Tómarúm is:
– Kyle Walburn (Guitar, Vocals, Programming)
– Brandon Iacovella (Guitar, Vocals, Programming, Contrabass, Narration)
– Matthew Longerbeam (Guitar, Vocals)
– Michael Sanders (Bass, Vocals)
– Chris Stropoli (Drums, Vocals, Programming, Sound Design)

The post Review: Tómarúm – Beyond Obsidian Euphoria appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive black metal, avant-garde metal, dissonant death metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Gorguts, Charles Mingus, Oranssi Pazuzu, Blut Aus Nord, Ulcerate
Country: New York, United States
Release date: 21 March 2025

Imperial Triumphant have artfully captured life in the Big Apple with their music for over a decade now, and their music—like the city itself—is dichotomous, a portrayal of the vileness and luxury of life in the greatest city on earth. The band’s groundbreaking mix of discordant dissonant metal, atonal jazz, and gleaming Art Deco exterior is cerebral: Imperial Triumphant is an acquired taste like black coffee¹, grimy but energizing, for the working class and the elites alike. Dating back to my neonatal dissonant metal-loving form in 2020, I knew Imperial Triumphant would be a permanent favorite of mine². I’ve discussed them endlessly with unwilling friends and family, given them an uber-rare 10/10 for Alphaville³, and even written a thirteen-page term paper on the band and their usage of free jazz in metal as an embodiment of their NYC-centric philosophy. 

Goldstar is a conceptual and musical reframing for the New York power trio with an emphasis placed on how the material will sound in a live setting. This materializes as a punchier Imperial Triumphant: tighter song lengths, more cutthroat, riffier. While no stranger to the Almighty Riff on Alphaville and Spirit of Ecstasy, Imperial Triumphant lay down a new barbed focus on guitar parts and punchy rhythms on Goldstar, hitting with the force of King Kong. For example, “Gomorrah Nouveaux” opens with an intricate percussive rhythm courtesy of North African gnawa while Ezrin hypnotically chugs the pattern in disgusted agreement. The track never relents the punishing, Meshuggah-esque march except in a dramatic grand pause around a minute in. Thankfully despite the increased emphasis on staccato, precise guitar parts across Goldstar, Ezrin’s playing still uses atonal jazz technique to dizzying effect—as on the gritty “Rot Moderne” and the slow-burning “Lexington Delirium.” He also opts to play outright melodies more than on previous releases, his parts twice breaking free of the noisy chaos to recognizable tunes: a Handel motif weaves through the main melody of “Hotel Sphinx,” and the closer “Industry of Misery” ends with an extended jam around The Beatles’ heaviest track, “I Want You (She’s so Heavy).”

Recorded in only five days as the final project produced at Colin Marston’s legendary Queens-based Menegroth studio, the frantic, improvisatory moments scattered throughout Goldstar successfully capture the energy of a live performance. The Dada-ist grindcore track “NEWYORKCITY” is a thirty-second burst of sound, embodying the city that never sleeps with studio-adjusted improvised chaos. Sound clips of sirens, spoken word, and the ominous groan of buildings are also mainstays of Goldstar. You’re never left in doubt that you’re still in the city so nice they named it twice while listening to Imperial Triumphant. 

Steve Blanco on bass and Kenny Grohowski on drums are a rhythm duo from heaven playing in hell. Long my favorite drummer, Grohowski throws everything at this album from black metal blasts more common than on any previous release to unceasing Meshuggah rhythms, from delicate jazz cymbals to Brazilian Maracatu. He’s got backup from Thomas Haake (Meshuggah) on “Lexington Delirium” and “Pleasuredome” as well as from Dave Lombardo (Slayer) on “Pleasuredome” although neither is a highlight (I reckon no matter who you are it’s gotta be impossible to keep up with Kenny Grohowski). Blanco’s highlight occurs when he takes smooth leads from the jagged playing of Ezrin, such as on “Hotel Sphinx” or on “Lexington Delirium”—you can see him play the latter in the Chrysler Building itself in the music video for the track. 

Keeping in theme with this release cycle’s live-performance focus, the trio once again unfurled new masks to up the theatricality—glossy Art Deco pieces at home within the architecture of the Chrysler Building. Yet despite the album title, donning of new golden masks, and finally recording at the Chrysler building like the band had dreamed of for years, Imperial Triumphant have lost some of the gilded luster of previous releases. Opener “Eye of Mars” has the brassy undertones of Vile Luxury’s opener “Swarming Opulence,” but it’s more drowned out by the guitar, losing the urbane impact of the brass. Goldstar lacks Steve Blanco’s regal piano-playing, opting instead for Krallice-y synths, and although they are awesome, they lack the glittery pizazz of high-life in The Capital of the World. In a similar fashion, I wish Goldstar had more of a jazz focus because while the influence is still clear—and this realization of Imperial Triumphant isn’t lacking anything—I struggle to acclimate to the relative lack of jazz. Goldstar doesn’t contain any tracks like the late-era John Coltrane-coded “In the Pleasure of Their Company” from Spirit of Ecstasy or the transcendent freeness of “Chernobyl Blues”—except for the thirty-second unconfined grindcore track, of course. 

Tightening up songwriting for a more approachable package—particularly with an emphasis on playing the tracks live—certainly doesn’t guarantee a band is selling out: Pyrrhon and Scarcity both placed highly on my year-end list last year despite a significant boost in their accessibility. Goldstar is still a complex and cultured metal record; Imperial Triumphant’s riffs are stronger than ever before; and at thirty-nine minutes the album is easy to listen to on repeat. So while Goldstar isn’t as transcendent nor stately as the golden packaging would have you think, basking in the filthy riffage and potent songwriting is luxurious in its own way.

Recommended tracks: Gomorrah Nouveaux, Hotel Sphinx, Rot Moderne, Industry of Misery
You may also like: Ashenspire, Pyrrhon, Krallice, A Forest of Stars, Thantifaxath, Dodecahedron, Kostnateni, Sarmat, Scarcity, Voices
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: Century Media Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Imperial Triumpahnt is:
Zachary Ezrin – Vocals, Guitar
Steve Blanco – Bass
Kenny Grohowski – Drums

1. Once, Imperial Triumphant released their own blend of coffee as merch (which I did purchase and brew). Isn’t that the coolest merch item ever, though?? ︎
2. Never mind that there is documented evidence of a younger and stupider version of me in the Angry Metal Guy comments of Alphaville calling the record appreciatable but not enjoyable, an “uncomfortable” experience. The love affair between Imperial Triumphant and me wasn’t immediate. ︎
3.  Strong 9.5 for the followup Spirit of Ecstasy ︎

The post Review: Imperial Triumphant – Goldstar appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive black metal, heavy metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Haggard, King Diamond, Fleshgod Apocalypse
Country: Italy
Release date: 31 January 2025

If I won the lottery, I’d pay for Wilderun and Ne Obliviscaris to record and perform with whatever orchestra and choir they’d like. In my humble opinion, (competent) orchestration and metal pair like peanut butter and jelly, elevating both to hitherto unknown heights. Truly, few things in life compare to the wedding of these disparate styles. On one man band Selvans’ third album, the Italian horrorist enlists the help of a sixty-member orchestra and choir. That’s damn ambitious and I respect it; do his compositions justify the cost?

Saturnalia exudes campy fun, living up to the Roman festival it’s named after. With a baseline of King Diamond-y heavy metal, Selvans amplifies the sound with eclectic black metal riffing and an aura of Fleshgod Apocalypse’s grandeur. Selvan’s vocal attack is similarly varied: he shouts at you in Italian, performs freakily accurate King Diamond highs, attempts silly little whispers and more goblin-y harshes (“Fonte del Diavoli”), and showcases operatic talent (“Madre Dei Tormenti”). For every vocal success, however, he has several which work less well: like the obnoxious burp which heralds the start of “Madre Dei Tormenti” and the out-of-place spaghetti-Western styled whistle in “Il Mio Maleficio V’incalzerà!,” but Selvans is clearly an entertainer to his core, his performances full of drama and refreshingly passionate—over-the-top but deservingly so. The all-Italian lyrics are also quite the riot (according to my Italian peer Francesco), chronicling loony tales of cultist orgies (“Il Mio Maleficio V’incalzerà!”) and… um a man who escapes an asylum, is flayed and burned alive, only to have the devil come and make him into a figure of terror who goes and curses people with a band of outcasts (“Il Mio Maleficio”) (thanks for the translation help, Francesco!).

Instrumentally, Selvans achieves similar bombast, even disregarding the orchestration. Chock-full of heavy metal swagger, guitarists Chris D’Onofrio and Antonio Scelzi rip solos whenever they get the chance—highlights including the ends of “Il Mio Maleficio V’incalzerà!” and “Il Capro Infuocato.” When not soloing, the trem-picked riffs provide the ghastly horror vibe Selvans aims to achieve, creating a sense of maniacal unhingedness like Le Grand Guignol did almost twenty years ago. A bevy of retro prog rock organs and synths create a spooky atmosphere during the more metal-y tracks (so all but “Necromilieu” and “Madre Dei Tormenti”); both keyboard styles are fun, but with all the sounds at once in the heavier parts, everything can be a bit overwhelming.

And alas, the metal bits completely lose the orchestra. Just like Fleshgod Apocalypse, muddy production kills the full experience. The lead guitar and vocals are crisp above the menagerie of other textures, but those all blend together into a noisy, cluttered mess. In an ideal world, all of Selvans’ orchestrations and compositions would be a bit more deft—not to the level of Aquilus but perhaps handled like Lamentari. And this is where Selvans loses me despite their vibrant enthusiasm and jubilant, creepy songwriting: the group just get lost in the sauce. The ebbs and flows are thrilling, but by the end it doesn’t do much with symphonic grandeur, the songwriting never crescendoing to a satisfying enough climax (although the solos are undoubtedly great—I wish Selvans used them more). Along the same lines, the album closer “Fonte Dei Diavoli” is a little underwhelming: why does Saturnalia end on a fadeout???

I always respect ambition; it’s the driving force of prog, after all. But sometimes an artist has to rein it in, and that’s the case for Selvans. Fantastic musician, solid composer, fun ideator for concepts and stories, but the whole project just doesn’t coalesce in a satisfying way. That is not to say Saturnalia isn’t worthwhile, but I am sad that this is supposedly the final project under the Selvans name.

Recommended tracks: Il Mio Maleficio V’incalzerà!, Madre Dei Tormenti, Pantàfica
You may also like: Malokarpatan, Le Grand Guignol, Antipope, Pensées Nocturnes, Dissona, The Circle, Aenaon
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Avantgarde Music – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Selvans is:

Selvans: vocals and keyboards
Chris D’Onofrio: guitars
Agares: bass
Marco Berrettoni: drums
Antonio Scelzi: additional lead guitars
Triumphator: solo track 4

The post Review: Selvans – Saturnalia appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: avant-garde black metal, progressive black metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Blut Aus Nord, Dødheimsgard, The Ruins of Beverast, Behemoth (just the good parts of The Satanist), Imperial Triumphant, Heilung
Country:  Poland
Release date: 10 January 2025

The dawn of time. Now that I have your attention, fast forward a few billion years to the primordial soup, then a few billion more to proto-humans. Here is the origin of music, a concept so profoundly central to human culture that it’s hard to imagine a world without it. I strongly recommend reading Gary Tomlinson’s A Million Years of Music if you’re interested in the development of music by early hominids, detailing several theories about its origins in toolmaking and collective expression. This is all fascinating stuff and while Uulliata Digir don’t look quite so far back, they are deeply inspired by the ancient Sumerians, even writing in a language inspired by what linguists know of Sumerian. 

Uulliata Digir centers on an incantational energy, a hypnotic percussion that could be grounded in that ancient toolmaking. However, Krzysztof Kulis’s drumming is not simply a mechanism for tired droning; indeed, he is an animal on the kit with endless embellishments and varying patterns on top of the unchanging underlying beat. Each of the three true songs—there are two interludes—introduces a rhythm at the start and builds on it throughout, growing in magnitude and heft while vocal melodies and dissonant trumpets and guitars clash. The lengthy buildup in “Myrthys” is redolent of The Ruins of Beverast’s “Exuvia” with Uulliata Digir’s buzzing guitars and the animalistic growls of Michał Sosnowski. Providing an excellent balance to the gruffness, trumpeter Magdalena Andrys and female vocalist Julita Dąbrowska steal the show, the distinct timbre of the brassy horn cutting through the repetitious dissonant guitar parts and Dąbrowska’s mix of prayer-like melodies and shouts that sound eerily like a human truly in pain providing the main melodic contours of Uulliata Digir’s sound.

Although inspired by the ancients, Uulliata Digir adds a modern twist with that trumpet, inciting a weirdness to the band’s sound that at times reminds me of Denmark’s Dystopia and at others of New York’s skronky Imperial Triumphant as in the dueling guitar and trumpet solo of 5:45 in “Omni Dirga.” The production quality of Uulliata Digir is also quite polished, not afraid to get murky but always clear, especially bassist Bartłomiej Kerber who clacks away like a prog death musician underneath the ringing guitar parts. The whole package is like proto-industrial Germanic folk music à la Heilung but with a distorted guitar and trumpet twist, and the schtick works well. 

The strength of Uulliata Digir’s compelling ritual-ness also is the album’s pitfall, the ever-repetitive guitar and beat becoming tired by the end of the forty minute album, especially how horrible the choice of dissonant chord is; it’s ugly and sounds like the random choice of somebody picking up a guitar for the first time more than foreboding or eerie. Moreover, the project is wholly immersive to a certain point and then I lose interest around the three-quarter mark every spin. Perhaps closer “Eldrvari” is just weaker than what came before—except for a lovely a cappella bit around the middle that transitions into the heaviest moments of Uulliata Digir—but I believe it’s a similar quality as the rest, mostly because it sounds so similar to what came before. I am sure performed live this album would be an absolute trip, dancing in the fog trying to fend off Grendel or something, but I lose out on the experience of musicking¹ listening on my own. 

The brand of metal which Uulliata Digir peddles is always a treat when composed well, and I enjoy vibing out to something which feels so quintessentially human, hearkening back to our earliest ancestors (or the Sumerians). This project is forcible for a debut with strong performances behind the kit and dynamic female vocals, but it lacks the finishing touches of a project like Ershetu or The Ruins of Beverast, the repeated dissonant chord of the guitar growing flat-out annoying. Nonetheless, I can certainly recommend this as a fun start to the year for other weirdo metalheads.

Recommended tracks: Myrthys, Omni Dirga
You may also like: Amun, Dystopia, Ershetu, Dordeduh
Final verdict: 6/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label: independent

Uulliata Digir is:
– Krzysztof Kulis (drums)
– Marcin Tuliszkiewicz (guitars, synths)
– Bartłomiej Kerber (bass)
– Bartłomiej Kerber (bass)
– Magdalena Andrys (trumpet)
– Michał Sosnowski (vocals)
– Julita Dąbrowska (vocals)

1. Since I imagine you didn’t read all of A Million Years of Music before continuing the review, the concept of “musicking” was first introduced by Christopher Small, essentially entailing that making music is really a communal effort including the audience, the instrument-maker as well as, of course, the performer. ︎

The post Review: Uulliata Digir – Uulliata Digir appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive black metal, psychedelic black metal, heavy psych (mostly harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Blut Aus Nord, Ulcerate, Inter Arma, Elder, Thy Catafalque, Author & Punisher
Country: Finland
Release date: 11 October 2024

Non-metalhead music nerds universally gravitate toward a weird selection of modern metal LPs to laud as future classics: Rateyourmusic, Pitchfork, Anthony Fantano, and the hipster kid in your English class will universally gravitate toward Blood Incantation (just last week), Ὁπλίτης, Trhä, Tomb Mold, Chat Pile, Ulcerate, and King Gizzard’s “metal” without fail. I’m conflicted. On the one hand, gatekeeping good metal isn’t my thing—it’s why I write here—but these weird echo chamber-y communities also are so strange and picky with their metal limited metal taste buds it can be frustrating seeing them pick up something but never explore deeper. The internet is weird how one can at once know underground Chinese blackened mathcore and also not care about any but a couple other metal releases of the year. It can also be weird as a fan deep inside the genre when you disagree with one of these picks to herald as something great. Yes, I want to see metal succeed outside of our community, but “really, that band?” is so often my reaction. 

Oranssi Pazuzu are another picked up by the music nerds: Anthony Fantano has reviewed several albums of theirs favorably in the past, Rateyourmusic has their previous two among their highest albums of their given years, and Pitchfork has whipped out a high score for them when most major metal albums don’t even get a mention. Unfortunately, I was left largely ambivalent to Oranssi Pazuzu’s sound while listening to their first five albums despite being the perfect band for me on paper, and I felt like I was missing out on something great; heck, even the people who don’t care about metal eat this crap up. A career of long psychedelic synth passages, extended jams, warped black metal, oddball progressions underneath snarling shrieks… I so desperately want to add another peculiar black metal band to the collection. Can the Finn’s new sixth full-length album in fifteen years, Muuntautuja, finally convince me I’m missing out?

In the past decade and a half, Oranssi Pazuzu have evolved little from album to album, always dabbling in a mix of Elder-y heavy psych and black metal, but Muuntautuja displays an uncharacteristic amount of growth over the past four years—deserving of its name translated as “Shapeshifter.” No longer writing stoner meanderings, Oranssi Pazuzu have more pinpointed focus with a newly added industrial electronica providing an apocalyptic atmosphere. Out of the gate, “Bioalkemisti” stutters glitchy synths in a percussive, noisy opening before their classic psyched out, fuzzy guitars hit. Shortly after (around 1:55), the track loses itself in a noisy cacophony; however, this is the strength of Muuntautuja when compared with previous releases. Rather than getting lost in pedestrian psychedelics—a wanna-be Elder or Pink Floyd but never convincing enough to help them stand apart from other fringe black metal acts—Oranssi Pazuzu now weaponize noise as their primary songwriting catalyst, providing an order of magnitude more edge. The hazy violence is more compelling. 

And through the chaotic sections, the newfound electronica underlying the band’s sound balances the disturbing sounds with an aberrant desire to dance through the primordial energy. The title track drips in Tangerine Dream synth sounds and an Author & Punisher-esque beat; the already mentioned opener has old school 70s prog Moog synthesizers; “Valotus” pulses with a serious groove from the heavier bass and more riff-forward attack. But the highlight of the album is easily the penultimate epic “Ikikäärme” which focuses on a crescendoing structure throughout its length, crafting a calamitous atmosphere with its gelid piano parts and ever-growing sense of unbridled energy. It’s the band’s magnum opus and their most complete piece of writing yet. 

Muuntautuja also keeps several variables from the band’s previous studio work, especially the sludgy production quality which loses lots of crisp detail that would be advantageous for the colder, more industrial black metal style. The album is also paced strangely: “Vierivä Usva” is an immensely disappointing closer after “Ikikäärme,” more pointless filler than anything. Moreover, other tracks can be slightly too free flowing in their psychedelia. Even though the mission feels clearer—to capture the cold, uncaring vacuum of space through their recording—some tracks are missing the focused songwriting that would create more stunning results. “Hautatuuli,” for instance, is too much of a meandering slow burn, and its atmosphere doesn’t make up for its unsatisfying climax. 

Overall, Oranssi Pazuzu are moving in the right direction, incorporating a wider blend of influences that blend together into a more compelling progressive and psychedelic black metal experience. Now what will the non-metal music nerds have to say about this one? Honestly, I think they’ll like it just as much as before. This is coolly heavy and dark, but it’s got an unmistakable groove and an air of controlled chaos with just the right level of progressiveness. It won’t be as huge as last week’s Blood Incantation release (interestingly also the first album of that band I really enjoy), but I’m certainly happy that Oranssi Pazuzu are worming their way toward the good hipster metal side of things.

Recommended tracks: Muuntautuja, Ikikäärme
You may also like: Dødheimsgard, Krallice, Imperial Triumphant, A Forest of Stars, Dystopia, Omega Infinity
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Nuclear Blast – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Oranssi Pazuzu is:
Evill – grand piano, vocals, effects
Ikon – guitar, sampler, synthesizers
Jun-His – the voice, guitar
Korjak – drums
Ontto – bass guitar, synthesizers

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