Style: Progressive rock, symphonic rock (instrumental)
Recommended for fans of: King Crimson, Camel, Vangelis, Anekdoten, Focus
Country: Norway
Release date: 25 July 2025

In the kingdom of the rock band, the throne usually belongs to the singer, who commands attention while the instruments orbit like loyal courtiers. There may be a guitarist lurking like a scheming vizier, angling to one day seize control, or a keyboardist playing the role of the staunch and trusty chancellor—perhaps the favourite of the court, even if the crown rests elsewhere. But in instrumental bands, the throne sits conspicuously empty. Some groups fill the vacancy by crowning another instrument as monarch. Others leave the court in disarray, offering tracks that feel like singer-less karaoke, shapeless without a clear voice from the throne.

But there is a secret third option: on their debut album The Book of Hours, Norwegian band Agropelter opts for a little throne room reno, removing the seat of power entirely in favour of a round table. Gathered around it are flute, organ, mellotron, guitar, fretless bass, piano, and more; each takes turns steering the conversation and weaving lush, indulgent harmonies. The resulting sound draws heavily on the pizzazz of 70s and 80s prog rock while peppering in jazz, classical, cinematic hues, and even a dash of AOR. It’s a lively musical dialogue, rather than a single ruling figure holding court.

Evoking everything from Rachmaninoff to King Crimson to the Old-School RuneScape soundtrack within a single track, one could easily imagine Agropelter’s multi-instrumental milieu feeling cramped or scatterbrained. However, The Book of Hours unfolds with unhurried assurance. Those who prefer their music structured will find no catchily-packaged verse-chorus deals here; the album flows more like a stream of consciousness, a winding road meandering towards something that always stays just past the vanishing point. Most of the time, this works: I wouldn’t bat an eye if you told me that the solo five minutes into “The Book of Hours Pt I” was lifted from a Rachmaninoff or Beethoven piano concerto, as its long phrases lope elegantly in arcing forms, but the final tumble down the keyboard’s low end to the waiting mellotron feels effortless and natural, too. However, not all twists in the road are as deftly navigated. Take, for instance, the bass solo that bubbles up from the murky bottom of the dense soundscape in “Burial Mound”. Though sharply executed and poignantly eerie, it trails off without a true resolution. And the same goes for album opener “The Flute of Peril”—Agropelter hasn’t yet mastered the art of gracefully laying a track to rest once the journey has run its course.

The Book of Hours opens with an atmospheric fricassée of cawing crows, thunder, and rain that occasionally reappears between tracks. Though the colourfully varied instrumental tapestry often delights with unexpected timbres poking out of the thrumming inter-track ambiance, there are fewer surprises when it comes to the melody. That is to say, Agropelter is content to resolve phrases and harmonies in ways that you might anticipate—pretty and satisfying rather than challenging, dissonant, or unsettled. For example, the cinematic major-key theme that closes “The Book of Hours Pt I”:¹ harmonically, its path is somewhat telegraphed, but the effect is less that of a predictable cliché, and more of a puzzle piece sliding neatly into place.

Whether it’s the sultry, jazz-tinged piano in “The Book of Hours Pt II” or the shimmering AOR glint of the keys and guitar that open “Levitator”, Agropelter’s stylistic flourishes never feel out of place. Instead, though the dominant accents are the brio of vintage prog rock and the elegant grandeur of Romantic Classical music, each voice still finds its place at the round table. Agropelter may have never crowned a ruler, but The Book of Hours proves that a court can thrive without one. Together, the album’s numerous influences and instruments coalesce into a debut that surprises and charms at nearly every turn.

Recommended tracks: Burial Mound, The Book of Hours Pt I, The Book of Hours Pt III
You may also like: Øresund Space Collective, Agusa, Änglagård, King Garcia
Final verdict: 7.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Official Website | Instagram

Label: The Laser’s Edge – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Agropelter is:
– Kay Olsen (guitars, bass, church organ, keyboard)
– Jonas Reingold (fretless bass)
– Mattias Olson (percussion, synths)
– Andreas Sjøen (drums)
With guests:
– Jordi Castella (grand piano)
– Eli Mine (harpsichord)
– Norlene M (cello)
– Aileen Antu (double bass)
– Luis Vilca (alto flute)
– Hannah Danets (flute)
– Zhivago (bassoon)
– Edgar Asmar (duduk)

1. This and a few passages in “The Book of Hours Pt III” call to mind Mark Knopfler’s soundtrack work. ︎

The post Review: Agropelter – The Book of Hours appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive death metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Septicflesh, Fleshgod Apocalypse, Strapping Young Lad, Children of Bodom
Country: United States (NY)
Release date: 4 July 2025

What’s in a name? The walls of my music library are lined with bands whose creative output I passed over for years due to their terrible branding. Septicflesh, Fleshgod Apocalypse, Bedsore… the list goes on. I’ll never understand why so many good artists choose to debase their projects by naming themselves after bodily functions or necrotic diseases. While I may be more prudish than many in the metal scene (I judiciously save up swear words for special occasions and avoid them in everyday use), I’ve nonetheless learned that sometimes, you have to set aside preconceptions based on a band’s name, and let the music speak for itself. And who better to come gushing forth from the underground metal scene to help me enact this principle than the campily-named Pissectomy?

Setting aside for a moment the troubling medical implication of a pissectomy (where is the piss going? Does the procedure make you unable to piss, or does it cause a constant stream to be siphoned from your body?), Pissectomy’s name was clearly chosen for shock value. The band’s early output leaned into this, with deliberately subversive and urine-based lyrical themes and a sample-heavy, drugged-out noisegrind style. However, the adage of “let it mellow if it’s yellow” seems to have shaped Pissectomy’s style and restraint over time, as the latest record holds a surprising amount of refinement under the toilet-seat humour.

Pissectomy is nominally a one-man project helmed by Jason Steffen of New York and South Korea¹, but much of new release Electric Elephant Graveyard is brought to life by a cast of hired guns from Fiverr (an online marketplace for freelance service providers) and similar platforms, and the result is intriguingly genre-fluid. The first two tracks on the album are lavishly outfitted in sympho-death grandeur—think of the aforementioned Septicflesh or Fleshgod Apocalypse—but then the orchestra quietly slips out the back before the third track, “Sharkstar”, without so much as a tuba case banging against the doorframe on the way out. Save for a subtle reprise of some strings in album closer “Singularity”, the rest of the album relieves itself of symphonic elements, offering up riffs and licks galore with predominant influences from death metal titans like Cannibal Corpse and Children of Bodom, plus dashes of power, thrash, and prog.

For all of Pissectomy’s crude branding, Electric Elephant Graveyard is surprisingly restrained in its use of urinary humor, and it’s certainly not evident in the music itself. The tracks are layered, and even in a single offering like the seven-minute “Starstorm Omega”, multiple stylistic themes from fantastical power metal pomp to rhythmically itch-scratching, proggy helter-skelter are deployed thoughtfully. If you were not privy to Pissectomy’s subject matter, you could listen to almost the entire album without noticing any overt nephritics. Occasional lyrical groaners like “rest in piss” or “war and piss” are easy enough to miss. The jig is up, however, on the rather overtly-named “Pissrealm Antichrist”, where a layered vocal chorus repeatedly chants “all hail piss and shit”.

With Pissectomy’s freelanced cast of contributors, who exactly deserves credit for the various elements of Electric Elephant Graveyard is cloudy². The vocal duties, for instance, are shared between Steffen himself and at least one guest contributor, Topias Jokipii. Whatever the division of labour, the results are dynamic and versatile. There’s a simperingly evil D&D-grade sorcerer flavour to the spoken word on “Pissrealm Antichrist”, Cannibal Corpse-esque torridly deep pigsqueals on “Sharkstar”, and a gritty clean vocal refrain on “Sharkstar” that sounds like King Diamond pitched down an octave or so out of the screeching falsetto stratosphere. The guitar work, though, might just be number one. Steffen is clearly having a blast, and moments like the indulgently sprawling solo in “Welcome to Dead End” or the tightly coiled, chugging bursts on “Starstorm Omega” demonstrate equal parts laudable musicianship and clever composition.

While there is some level of tonal coherence across Electric Elephant Graveyard, as Pissectomy keeps up a steady flow of momentum, a clearer sense of identity would help the record to better coalesce. Pissectomy is a former noisegrind band blending elements of symphonic, power, death, thrash, and progressive metal into their sound. And while Steffen clearly has reverence for all of these genres, the crossing of the streams can be a bit much. There’s even an acoustic guitar interlude, “Astronomy”, which is lovely but lands rather disjointedly in the album’s entirety. Perhaps some of the vignette-based songwriting from Steffen’s noisegrind roots is hampering the development of a cohesive whole. The individual elements succeed, but a step back to take in the big picture across the album’s forty minutes could help everything stick together.

 If given ten guesses as to what a band named Pissectomy would sound like, I wouldn’t have come close. While I still wouldn’t rush to pop this album on the aux, Electric Elephant Graveyard’s balls-to-the-wall energy, as well as veneration for the various genres influencing Pissectomy’s sound, makes for a surprisingly charming listen. Sometimes, you have to be prepared to flush your assumptions down the drain.

Recommended tracks: Welcome to Dead End, Sharkstar, Singularity
You may also like: Shadecrown, Sigh
Final verdict: 6.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Instagram | Metal-Archives

Label: Independent

Pissectomy is:
– Jason Steffen (guitar, vocals)
– Topias Jokipii (vocals)
– People from Fiverr (other assorted instruments)

1. Steffen is currently stationed with the US military in South Korea as a fighter pilot. ︎
2. Like your pee might be if you’re dehydrated. ︎

The post Review: Pissectomy – Electric Elephant Graveyard appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Festival co-promoter Milton Mendonça, who’s currently in charge of Day 2 at the festival, sat down with Claire to chat about ProgPower USA, its legacy, and the challenges of bringing international bands to the United States in 2025.

Hi Milton, thanks for joining us in the underground tunnels of the Progressive Subway for this interview. To start off, in your own words, what is ProgPower USA?

ProgPower USA is a metal festival that takes place once a year in Atlanta here in the USA. It’s something that’s been near and dear to me since 2002. I started attending as a fan back then, and it is probably single-handedly the one event that has kickstarted those two particular genres of music, progressive and power metal, to become more popular and more accessible here in the States. It’s given some artists the first chance to come and play in the States, and now some of these artists come back and tour year after year. It’s a pretty special event.

You mentioned that you started attending the festival as a fan. How did you get involved in your current capacity as a co-promoter?

After 10 years of going as an attendee, I was invited to join the crew. I started working as a music journalist, from that I went into PR, and then I went into booking and management. Through booking some of the bands at ProgPower, I had already established a good relationship with [festival founder and current lead promoter] Glenn Harveston and he said, “Hey, we’re looking for somebody to do the Wednesday show, if you want to take a stab at it.” And I came on board as the Wednesday night promoter, and things progressed, and now I’m the heir apparent as Glenn gets ready to move into retirement.

Looking at the almost 25-year history of the festival, and its legacy up until this point, could you share some of the bands that hadn’t previously toured in the US, that you’re the most proud of having brought to ProgPower?

I can’t speak for the years that I wasn’t a promoter; that’s Glenn’s credit and he deserves all of it. But there’s definitely been some bands that I didn’t think I would ever be able to get in the States at all. Some bands that I was a fan of and never had a chance to work with up until then. The Blind Guardian special set was a pretty solid one. I was always a big fan of Stream of Passion, and I never thought they would come to the States, and we pulled that off. Galneryus was a big deal, bringing them from Japan. And I got to work as a promoter for one of my favorite bands, Angra.

I came with my little cheat sheet of some of the bands that I know are really beloved at the Progressive Subway, that had US debuts or one-off appearances at the festival. Nightwish, Blind Guardian, Green Carnation, Vanden Plas, Seventh Wonder, Orphaned Land, Angra. A lot of really great bands.

Sabaton is another one, Gamma Ray—their first shows in the States. I was still a booking agent at the time, but I also worked with Glenn to facilitate the Pain of Salvation Remedy Lane set, and the Angra Holy Land set. Those are two that I often pat myself on the back for. It’s such a hard question though, right? Because there’s some politics that play into it. I don’t want to forget anybody. I don’t want to get anybody mad at me.

Talking about the festival lineup for this year, we’ve seen a lot of turnover, a lot of bands getting swapped out due to issues with artist visas caused by the current US administration and their policies. Can you describe what has changed and how it has affected the festival?

Visa issues are not anything new. As far back as 2010, the festival lost a bunch of bands due to visas. This year, there were some changes that affected the time that it takes for a visa to be processed at the [US Customs and Immigration Services] office. Some changes were made that pulled people out of those offices, and it caused those processing times to become longer. Before you could have a visa applied for, processed, and approved within two to four months—sometimes a little more, sometimes as fast as a few weeks. Once that change happened in January, we had already applied for most of our visas [for 2025], and the time frame changed to up to 10 months. The only thing you can do in those cases is to pay an exorbitant extra fee to expedite the process. On top of that, there’s been added scrutiny to the visa applications. I would love to say that it’s not a political thing, but it sort of is, right? No matter how much we try to plan for it: we started all of our visa petitions early this year, played by the rules, and still kind of got screwed in the end. And there were a bunch of bands that were not approved, simply because our government didn’t think that they were relevant enough or worthy enough to get a visa. So, yeah, it’s a mess. I don’t know how else I can put it.

I’m curious, you don’t have to name any names, but have you approached any bands from abroad who aren’t interested in even trying to perform on US soil right now given the current situation?

More than ever, we’ve gotten answers like, “I think we’re going to wait a few years.” This year, we had to expedite every visa petition. And it’s not looking like it’s going to change anytime soon. The government’s website just says what the average estimated time is. That doesn’t really mean anything. It costs about $8,000 to do an expedited visa, just to get them permission to enter the country, let alone all of the other expenses. So, a lot of bands are saying, you know what, it’s just not worth it. And we’re a 1,000 cap festival. We can only afford so much. So, I can understand when bands say, “You know what, unless we get paid double of what you’re offering, we can’t make it happen”. And it’s not because we’re trying to be cheap and lowball the bands; we pay very competitive rates. You know, it’s the biggest market for metal bands in the world, and it’s still one of the hardest for the bands to come and break in.

We’ve seen other festivals and artists, whether it’s because of COVID or different issues, try to defray costs with crowdfunding campaigns. I know ProgPower USA also ran a t-shirt campaign to help with costs when the pandemic resulted in delays and unexpected expenses. What do you think about this kind of approach versus across the board ticket price increases?

COVID really did a number on the industry in general. I think the one good thing that came out of it was people’s creativity in terms of finding ways to earn some money—not even to make money, just to keep things afloat. I think it’s really cool when they’re offering something that’s new and different and unique. I think it can become stale very quickly; it can become, “oh, there is another one doing crowdfunding”. Glenn had to do [a crowdfunding campaign] this year for the visa expedites, because the increase was almost three times as much as we had in the budget. We’re very grateful that we have a core audience that’s willing to jump in and help. I think it says a lot about the festival, and I like to believe that we make up to them in terms of the experience that we offer. You cannot count on ticket sales all the time, unfortunately.

The festival always announces the lineup a year in advance. So, for example, when attending the 2024 festival, fans will see [a video announcing] which bands are coming in 2025. What do you think are the merits or challenges with this approach versus other festivals like 70,000 Tons of Metal, which is notorious for being slow to release its lineup?

The biggest challenge has to do with scheduling. A lot of bands just cannot plan ahead that far in advance. There are bands that we’ve been speaking to to bring to the festival for a decade now, and they can never plan so far in advance. We announce it a year in advance, which means we have to start booking no later than 15 months in advance, which means we start thinking about the lineup longer than a year and a half away. Now we’re coming on to the 2025 edition. So, 2026[‘s lineup] is pretty much done. By the end of this year, I would start thinking about the following one, right? 2027. But you never know what’s going to happen. It’s hard, but I feel like we’ve succeeded enough that we have the recipe. We know what to look for when it comes to building a roster that will be relevant that far in advance. We also have a lot of colleagues and contacts; we’re always talking to bands, managers, agents, labels, so we have a good idea of who’s going to be releasing an album around announcement time and so on. But it’s a bit of a dance for sure. It’s challenging. 

I feel like the [lineup announcement video] is almost as exciting as any other band playing the festival. It has become such an important part of what ProgPower is, that I don’t think I could do it any other way. It’s really cool to see all the speculation that goes on in the months leading up to the festival, and then to watch the fans’ reaction to the videos. I think it’s an added bonus that other festivals have definitely gotten their inspiration from.

I think you can even win little prizes under the table if you guess all the bands correctly. 

Yeah, I’ve heard.

Is the viability of the advanced announcements approach changing due to the current situation? Would you ever consider shifting to later or staggered band announcements?

I think it’s still viable. It’s not an excuse, but 100% of the cancellations were never because we did something wrong as an entity, whether we messed something up or didn’t do a contract well enough. It’s always stuff that’s outside of our control, and I feel like our audience for the most part is very understanding of that. I think it’s the only viable way, to be honest with you, because I also have to compete with festivals all over the world, and now you can fly into Europe for like $300. So I have to get a head start on that. 

At The Progressive Subway, our core focus is on underground bands. And in fact, for the first few years that the publication was around, we only covered bands with less than 20,000 monthly listeners on Spotify. When you’re looking for younger or less established bands to bring onto the ProgPower USA roster, what makes a band stand out to you?

It really has to wow me. I’ve been coming to ProgPower since ProgPower III. I’ve seen a lot of bands get booked that everybody gets very excited about. And they’re really solid, but they last a few albums and either they move on or they see that it’s not viable, whatever it might be. And every now and then you find that one band that really just smacks you on your face and you’re like, “Holy crap.” Circus Maximus is an example. Seventh Wonder is an example. And more recently, I feel Nospūn is an example of that as well. It’s just a feeling that I get at this point, but it comes from years of watching the scene very closely, and finding little nuances or details that maybe other people are not thinking about. 

I also think a band could really wow you on their album, but if they’re really unestablished, they might not know how to perform live.

There is a very specific example of a band that played ProgPower. Incredible record. One of those records that remind you why you became a fan, and then they came on stage, and it was just a hot mess. And that is a very good example of what you’re saying. You know, they can wow you on record, but then they can’t play live. That was a big let down, I must say.

The original festival promoter, Glenn Harveston, has announced his intention to retire after the 25th festival next year, and you have been announced as his replacement, which I want to congratulate you for first of all. 

Thank you.

Do you have a mission statement for the future of ProgPower USA? Do you intend to change aspects of the festival, whether for the sake of making it your own or by necessity due to changing circumstances, or do you plan to stick to the model of the first 25 years?

I want to honour the legacy of what made ProgPower special for 25 years. It’s not just about the bands. It’s never been just about the bands. I remember very specifically the first time I went to ProgPower, just looking around and feeling—this is going to sound so cliche—belonging. Like I’m meant to be there, and I just have to come back. “I don’t care what happens next year. I have to be here”. And that was my mentality over the next 10 or so years. There were years that I was completely broke and friends of mine would be like, “You have to come, we’re paying for it”. Over the years, I heard the same kind of feeling from other people. So I think more important than anything is to maintain what ProgPower has been all about, which is this special event [where] you get to see all of these friends that you only see once a year, that also happens to have some really cool bands playing. And as a promoter, of course, it has to keep making money, too. It has to be commercially viable. The only big change I’m going to make is bringing the festival back to three days instead of four. A lot of people say that it’s more expensive for them to take one extra day off and pay an extra night at a hotel and so on. And also, I’ll be running this on my own. I also plan on offering a three-day pass, which is something that we haven’t been able to do, because we’re multiple promoters and we run the nights separately.

When we were preparing for this interview, you told me you probably wouldn’t be able to share any details about next year’s lineup. Of course, that made me want to ask about it. Knowing the core audience of The Progressive Subway, we love these kinds of underground or underappreciated bands that people maybe don’t get to hear from as often. Can you give a little teaser for us?

Next year is going to be very special because it’s Glenn’s last year. So you can expect a lineup that will blow people’s minds. Glenn is very proud of what he does with the festival, and I don’t think anyone should expect him to go out quietly. I’ll not speak to his days and his bands, but I can speak to Day Two. Out of the six bands on Day Two next year, only one will be a festival return. So five other bands have not been there. There will be a band that people will be saying, “Jesus, finally.” There will definitely be a band that people are going to say, “Who?” And a non-conventional headliner. I think ultimately it exemplifies what ProgPower is all about: There’s the progressive bands, there’s the power bands, there are the bands that people have no idea why they’re there, but somehow they work. I’m pretty happy with it.

Now people can go and start making their whiteboards, trying to figure out everything that you said.

Here’s one out of left field. What artist, band, song, album is living rent free in your head right now?

My favorite current band would be Sleep Token. I’m listening to the new Epica album quite a lot as well, and I just got the new Lorna Shore album as well. That has been my playlist. 

Is there anything else that we haven’t touched on about the festival or your role that you want to let people know about?

There are still tickets available for Days One and Two of the festival this year. And plenty of people reselling [tickets for Days Three and Four]. So, if somebody is on the fence about coming to the festival, there’s still ways to do it. And I know I’m biased, but it’s a special event. It’s been a rough year, but everyone’s still excited to attend. I don’t know if it’s a badge of honour, but [we have] the reputation of being able to replace [bands that drop out] at the same level or higher. You tell me. You keep coming back.

I look forward with a lot of optimism to see where the festival is going beyond its 25th year, which is huge. To last 25 years is really quite a legacy.

Like I said, I just hope to be able to keep it going. You know, Glenn got 25 years out of it. I have 10 now as a co-promoter. If I get another 10 or 15, I’m happy. We’ll see. 

Links: Facebook | Instagram | ProgPower USA Website

The post Interview: Milton Mendonça (ProgPower USA) appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Symphonic metal, progressive metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Nightwish, Epica, Orphaned Land, Myrath, Dream Theater, Symphony X
Country: Israel
Release date: 18 July 2025

Symphonic metal takes up a lot of space. I mean that as a compliment: the genre is aurally packed wall-to-wall with sweeping orchestras, grand choral arrangements, and shredding, heavy riffs. Sure, it can be campy, corny, overwrought—but for those who like their music larger than life, symphonic metal just hits different. I fell for it hard as a tween, when I nurtured a severe Nightwish obsession that gradually bloomed into an appreciation for the genre as a whole. Years later, in 2017, I stumbled across Sands of Time, the debut full-length album by Israeli five-piece Scardust. The band’s audacious reimagination of the symphonic metal playbook earned them a spot in my rotation that has endured to this day.

Unlike scores of bands who take the approach of copying Nightwish or Epica’s homework and changing a few details so they don’t get caught (or not), Scardust have an unmistakable trademark sound. They take pride in the technical skill of each band member, weaving ample showmanship into Mediterranean-and Middle Eastern-influenced compositions that often nestle bass or guitar solos alongside sprawling orchestral and choral arrangements which are—for my money—more thoughtfully and creatively architected than most in the genre. Scardust’s ambition has never dipped, but can their third album, Souls, keep up the momentum?

Um, maybe a bit too much. Scardust’s previous albums each opened with instrumental and choral overtures that elegantly set the stage for what was to come. By contrast, the number of different musicians introduced in the opening minutes of Souls makes me think of kids on a school trip, rushing to take a group photo before they get back on the bus. The orchestra and the magniloquent Hellscore choir—directed by Scardust frontwoman Noa Gruman—are there, as expected, but the rest of the band muscles in quickly, squeezing in bass and guitar solos in under four and a half minutes. And, soaring over it all is Gruman herself, with dizzyingly acrobatic vocal manoeuvres coloured by a timbre so polished that it almost seems shellacked. It’s all happening, all at once, and the momentum doesn’t let up. By the time Souls’ third track, “RIP”, rips out of the gates with Gruman growling over frenetic backing from the band and choir, I wish the whole ensemble would simply stop and take a deep breath. Mercifully, they do. Softer interludes on this track and scattered across the album’s forty-minute runtime bring relief, but Scardust never stop giving a hundred and fifty percent.

At the heart of Scardust’s unstoppable force is Noa Gruman, whose skill as a vocalist is unquestionably dazzling. Her range spans many octaves and styles—from whistle register to growls. In particular, her harsh vocals have improved significantly since the band’s earlier albums. They’re crisp, ferocious, and impressively enunciated. However, there’s one critical lesson that Gruman appears to have not yet learned, and it’s that less is sometimes more. Just because you can hit a laser-precise E♭6, growl like a bog monster, and belt like Floor Jansen, doesn’t mean you should do all of those things in a single breath (as at the end of “My Haven”). Moments of restraint could allow her remarkable technique to feel more emotionally resonant, and give the listener space to breathe. A true frontwoman, Gruman clearly commands the spotlight, but the other band members revel in their moments of explosive flair, whether it’s Yoav Weinberg’s thrillingly athletic drumming in “Long Forgotten Song” or Aaron Friedland’s zingy keys in the opening of “Touch Of Life III – King Of Insanity”.

In Souls’ already crowded milieu, the album’s guest contributors have their work cut out for them to find space. Ally Storch of Subway to Sally adds some impressive violin gymnastics to “Searing Echoes”, but her interludes feel pasted in rather than smoothly integrated, a shame on an already bloated track. Meanwhile, Haken’s Ross Jennings struggles to go toe-to-toe with Gruman in the three-part “Touch of Life” suite that closes the album. Gruman’s vocals demand a similarly bombastic duet partner¹, but Jennings’ unique vocal tone makes for a rather lopsided pairing. Later in the suite, when he sings solo, the effect improves considerably.

Scardust’s energy and intensity are higher than ever. But is it too much? My main gripe with Souls is that the band appears to have taken a formula that was already a lot and pushed forward in places where I want them to pull back. I don’t need them to get the jump on every big moment before I expect it, to dial everything up to eleven. Still, Souls sometimes captures that mesmerizing momentum from past albums without collapsing under its own ambition. “Dazzling Darkness” builds with refreshing subtlety, and closer “Touch of Life III – King of Insanity” cleverly reprises motifs from 2017’s Sands of Time. Both tracks’ scurrying melodic modulations showcase the band at their irrepressibly catchy best.

You’ll always know a Scardust song when you hear one. In the oversaturated symphonic metal landscape, originality and daring ambition count for a lot. But Souls sees the group leaning further into maximalist tendencies which tread a fine line between awe-inspiring and overwhelming. I don’t expect Scardust to ever rein themselves in. But next time, I hope they’ll trust that giving it a hundred percent is already enough.

Recommended tracks: Dazzling Darkness, Touch Of Life III – King Of Insanity
You may also like: Master Sword, Delta
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Frontiers Music – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Scardust is:
– Noa Gruman (vocals)
– Gal Gabriel Israel (guitar)
– Aaron Friedland (keyboards)
– Orr Didi (bass)
– Yoav Weinberg (drums)
With guests:
– TLV Orchestra
– Ally Storch (violin)
– Ross Jennings (vocals)

1.  For example, Orphaned Land vocalist Kobi Farhi paired well with Gruman in his guest appearance on Sands of Time. ︎

The post Review: Scardust – Souls appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Jazz pop, alternative hip-hop (clean vocals, rap)
Recommended for fans of: Thank You Scientist, daoud
Country: United States (NJ)
Release date: 13 June 2025

Being trapped here in the vast below-ground network of the Progressive Subway has its perks. Sure, sometimes there are rats, slime, and tyrannic brow-beatings to write our album reviews faster¹, but there’s also the priceless opportunity to exchange and deepen my love of the underground music scene by sharing recommendations with my fellow authors. When my colleague Dylan told me to check out Glass Garden a few months ago, their experimental jazz pop sound quickly sold me on the band’s debut album. With several current and former members of Thank You Scientist² on the band’s core and guest roster, the two bands are unmistakably part of the same family tree. 

However, you’ll notice one key difference about four seconds into the opening track of Desperate Little Messages, the band’s second album: namely, the rapping. Though many instrumental snippets on this album would fit right in on a TYS track, there’s far too much originality and eclecticism on display here to make “Thank You Scientist plus rap” a worthy comparison. Glass Garden’s sound is more restrained, and the absence of guitar in the main lineup³ or any real heaviness means that we’re miles away from any pesky debates about whether this is metal. Into this negative space, a rich instrumental array blooms luxuriantly into the forefront. Piano-leaning keyboard tones occasionally skew electronic, and bass, violin, and brass root a danceable groove. The two vocalists—one singer, one rapper—gambol over, under, and around the instrumentations, never quite overlapping one another.

The resulting energy is sprightly and spunky, but frontman John Kadian’s lyrics and vocal delivery don’t carry the same gravitas that I’d expect from a heavier proggy band like TYS or Coheed and Cambria. Rather, Kadian’s singing is youthful, guileless. “Crown of the Seafaring” and “Lighthouse” are prime examples: even as the lyrics are sometimes oblique and non-literal, it feels like Kadian could be sending us a late-night voice memo, talking through some loss or win or just trying to pin down the shape of a feeling before it slips away. While his vocals could benefit from more power at some points, the overall effect is charming. 

And of course, there’s the rapping. Idris Hoffman’s style is rhythmic and wordy but still casual and conversational, as it strays close to spoken word poetry. Some of the literality of a rapper like Aesop Rock is present, not exactly breaking the fourth wall but lightly knocking against it with a twinkle in the eye. In the midst of a flurry of f-bombs on “Making Space”, Hoffman lampshades the barrage by throwing in the words “expletive expletive expletive”. On tracks like “Kind Hand”, the instrumentals pull back to and allow the rap verses to expand and resonate, while elsewhere, Hoffman fades behind the instrumental cacophony. In the outro of “Wax & Wane”, the feeling of flooding overwhelm is more prominent than any individual lyric. Both vocalists tread a careful line that keeps their capricious whimsy from turning into a cudgel of zaniness. Some moments playfully colour outside the lines, as with the glitching distortion on Hoffman’s voice in “Will-of-Whispers” that evokes clipping.’s Dead Channel Sky, or Kadian’s delivery of his own hazy rap verse in “Wax & Wane”. But crucially, it’s never wacky enough to diminish the emotional sincerity. 

Not to be outdone by the dual vocalists, Glass Garden’s rhythm section round out the band’s core lineup with nuanced, apposite deliveries. Cody McCorry’s bass is deliciously prominent throughout the mix, capturing a sprightly yet effortless energy: those bass lines hustle underneath the action on tracks like “Wax & Wane”. Rather than destabilizing the rhythmic foundation, though, they pair elegantly with Faye Fadem’s drumming, which is comparatively understated where it needs to be while still seizing a few chances to dazzle (“Lighthouse”).

As on Glass Garden’s debut self-titled album, Desperate Little Messages also features a host of guest musicians. This includes a brass section of trumpet, sax, and trombone, whose luscious arrangements help to nudge the jazz dial up a couple notches. But in a key evolution from 2021’s Glass Garden, all the instruments are integrated seamlessly. Occasionally, this coalescence strays towards sameness; the final stretch of the album’s closer “Lighthouse”, in particular, feel more like a gentle fade than a final statement. On the whole the cohesion works, thanks to a lack of interludes or abrupt transitions. Ultimately, the direction is clear, and the ride is smooth. 

In “Sleepy, Hollow”, Idris Hoffman tells us: “I’m currently being wowed by how I got from here to there to here to where I want to be”. For their part, Glass Garden is exactly where I want them to be, as Desperate Little Messages is at once vulnerable and self-assured, with performances that are as musically tight as they are emotionally open. If Glass Garden can continue to iterate on their fresh, surprising sound, I’ll be on the platform waiting to embark on whatever journey they have in store for us next.

Recommended tracks: Making Space, Sleepy, Hollow, Will-of-Whispers
You may also like: The Psycodelics, Hard Maybe
Final verdict: 8/10

Related links: Spotify | Instagram

Label: independent

Glass Garden is:
– John Kadian (vocals, keyboard)
– Idris Hoffman (vocals)
– Faye Fadem (drums)
– Cody McCorry (bass)
With guests:
– Joey Gullace (trumpet)
– Patrick Higgins (saxophone)
– Ian Gray (trombone)
– Ben Karas (violin)
– Jacob Lawson (violin)
– Jenn Fantaccione (viola, cello)
– Angel Marcloid (guitar)

1. Just kidding! (blinks twice) ︎
2. One of my favourite bands, full stop. ︎
3. Angel Marcloid is credited as a guest on guitar. ︎

The post Review: Glass Garden – Desperate Little Messages appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Power metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Shaman, Angra, Queensrÿche
Country: Brazil
Release date: 13 June 2025

Kids these days, am I right? As a wizened, elderly crone approaching thirty years of age, I recently listened to a podcast which showcased a Gen Z representative explaining modern slang terms to the podcast’s Gen X hosts, and nothing has ever made me feel older. I had only just figured out what “rizz” is, but apparently that’s totally passé; these days it’s all about the aura. Unlike the traditional sense of a subtle atmosphere or energetic field, the modern aura is all about charisma; coolness; having an it factor. One can engage in aura farming or auramaxxing in an attempt to gain aura points and become cooler. But of course, whether you’re a teen boy trying to sink baskets to impress the ladies or a metal band attempting to stand out from the crowd in 2025, such efforts are fraught with the deadly peril of trying too hard. Originally formed in 1993, Twilight Aura released one album in 1995 (when Gen Z was still but a whisper on the horizon) before going on a formidable twenty-seven year hiatus. So, what has the band been doing all that time? Have they, perhaps, been… auramaxxing?

If so, they’ve done a tasteful job of it. Believe is the second album of Twilight Aura’s comeback after For a Better World in 2022, and there’s no try-hard breaking of the mold here, just roll-up-your-sleeves, guitar-forward power metal with fist-pumping choruses and unmistakable influences from the Brazilian metal landscape. Twilight Aura operate with self-assured, unhurried Queensrÿche-like swagger, further complimented by impeccable guitar work that calls to mind Angra greats Kiko Loureiro and Rafael Bittencourt¹. But to be clear, Believe is “prog metal” in the same way that LaCroix sparkling water is “fruit-flavoured”. At most, there was a whisper of prog in the next room over while Believe was being recorded, but the light touches—playful frolics between time signatures, shimmering and curling synth timbres—add freshness to the band’s formula, scoring them more aura points without breaking a sweat.

While Believe is unquestionably a capably-executed album, your mileage may vary based on your penchant for being surprised and challenged by your music; the album is more likely to win you over gradually than stop you in your tracks. Perhaps the biggest surprise on Believe occurs fifty-two seconds into the first track, when Daísa Munhoz’s lead vocals make their entrance. This corner of the metal world usually leans on male vocals (though they may scale bafflingly high octaves à la Angra or Elegy); by contrast, Munhoz’s vocals are a welcome shift, bright and technically unimpeachable with a hint of rock ’n’ roll grit. The vocals are frequently layered, particularly in choruses, to stirringly anthemic effect. When she’s not harmonizing with herself, Munhoz has a host of guest contributors to duet with, including Fabio Caldeira of Maestrick in the heart-on-sleeve ballad “Coming Home” and Jeff Scott Soto in “Hold Me Tight”. Munhoz’s commanding presence at the mic also helps sell Believe’s social justice-themed lyrics, which, notably for the power/prog genre, are straightforward and literal in a market over-saturated with armadas, dragons, and blades (“Right Thing” deals with climate change; “Real World” with fake news).

Elsewhere, Believe rarely strays from the well-worn paths of the genre. There are soaring, extended guitar solos—Andre Bastos on lead guitar takes the spotlight 3:55 into “Laws of Life” and doesn’t relinquish it for a good minute and a half. There’s a sappily-harmonized power ballad duet (“Coming Home”). And there’s no shortage of what we used to call, back in my choral singing days, “feel-good key changes”.  But these are all familiar pleasures, if not particularly daring ones, and confined to Believe’s tidy forty-minute runtime, the tropes don’t have time to overstay their welcome².

So, have Twilight Aura maxxed out that aura of theirs? Perhaps not fully, but Believe is a cogent, compelling slice of the elements that made Brazil’s metal scene great in the 80s and 90s when the band’s members were getting their start. It doesn’t push boundaries, but it doesn’t need to: with their refreshing, charismatic vocals and musicianship that speaks of long-earned confidence in the genre, Twilight Aura have plenty of strengths to play to, and there may be aura left to harvest yet.

Recommended tracks: Yourself Again, Laws of Life, Hold Me Tight
You may also like: Age of Artemis, Elegy, Auro Control, Maestrick
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Wikimetal Records – Facebook | Official Website

Twilight Aura is:
– Filipe Guerra (Bass)
– Claudio Reis (Drums)
– Andre Luiz Linhares Bastos (Guitar)
– Rodolfo Elsas (Guitar)
– Leo Loebenberg (Keyboards)
– Daísa Munhoz (Vocals)

1. Twilight Aura’s guitar player, Andre Bastos—not to be confused with Andre Matos—was actually a founding guitarist in Angra, but left the band in 1992. ︎
2. For a Better World dragged at almost an hour long ︎

The post Review: Twilight Aura – Believe appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Label: MNRK Heavy – Facebook | Official Website

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

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

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

The post Review: The Callous Daoboys – I Don’t Want to See You in Heaven appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Deep Purple, Yes, The Flower Kings, Kansas, Spock’s Beard
Country: Norway
Release date: 16 May 2025

To meaningfully assess a modern progressive rock band, one must first embrace the act of judgment—a process I’ve long since systematized. In the incomprehensibly vast progressive musical landscape of the year 2025, whether they know it or not, all prog rock bands that come across my desk are being judged. While this may sound harsh, it’s more of a complex calculation than it is an exercise in caviling, with all bands landing somewhere on a three-dimensional vector graph in my mind: the X axis measures how technically proficient the band is; the Y axis measures their creativity and originality; and Z is for how seriously they take themselves. While I am not prepared to misappropriate my professional Microsoft Visio license to create a full diagram of how various well-known prog rock acts slot onto the plane, this graph is foundational to my assessment and appreciation of bands in the genre. And there’s certainly an optimal zone when it comes to seriousness: the more unabashedly zany or tongue-in-cheek a band is (think Cheeto’s Magazine), the greater creativity and technical prowess I expect in order for them to establish a foothold in a favourable quadrant. Conversely, many titans of the prog rock scene (Jethro Tull, Transatlantic, etc.) engage in a degree of navel-gazing pretension which cannot, in my eyes, be redeemed, even by their beefy musical chops.

So, do Norway’s Magic Pie land in the sweet spot? One could reasonably assume that the band’s name belies a lack of seriousness. But these seasoned rockers have a deft hand with the ingredients on their latest record Maestro. The goofiness is not mixed in too liberally; rather, the prevailing flavour is a hearty, feel-good seventies-inspired prog in the vein of Flower Kings or Steve Hackett, with dashes of Kansas– or Queen-like vocal harmonization, and a few heavier spikes of Dream Theater dashed in.

Almost all of Magic Pie’s previous albums have featured a long epic track, and Maestro is no exception. Does the rather prolixly-titled opening track, “Opus Imperfectus Pt.1 – The Missing Chord” need to be eighteen minutes long? Certainly not, but Magic Pie are enjoying themselves throughout. The free-flowing, unhurried compositional structure sees the band ramble through a symphonic intro, mellotron-infused retro shine, and amply proportioned, meandering solos. It’s less a circle-jerk and more of a jovial fun time, calling to mind some of the stream of consciousness unwinding of Deep Purple or Dire Straits’ live acts. Maestro‘s fun, catchy verve is perfectly captured in the track’s unhurried, anthemic chorus, which slides into a catchy modulated phrase as the backing vocals build a sort of intoxicating thrall.

But not all of Maestro unfolds with such buoyant charm. As a follow-up to “Opus Imperfectus”, the ballad “By the Smokers Pole” is a down-tempo snooze, and this is where Magic Pie’s pacing issue comes into the foreground. There’s certainly fun to be had in the space between the two-part “Opus” that bookends Maestro, as in the straightforward rockin’ opening of “Somebody Else’s Wannabe” that blooms into a rhythmically fleet-footed proggy jaunt. Dedicating so much space to the opening and closing tracks, however, leaves the five tracks in the middle shuffling to find a place to stand; some more successfully than others. The two-minute “Kiddo…”, for example, has no footing at all, stuck in some no man’s land between an interlude and a full song.

Vocally, Icelander Eirikur Hauksson never really stuns. While he flashes some zany theatricality across the album, calling to mind the gusto of David Bowie or Freddie Mercury, his delivery prevailingly rests in an unremarkable mid-range comfort zone marked by a loose vibrato—capable if a little cut-and-dried, though the plush backing vocals do some work to infuse more flavour. By comparison, the instrumental deliveries are punchier, and easily shoot Magic Pie up my technical proficiency axis: the guitars and keys tumble and cavort around each other, cascading into long, careening solos that weave together everything from bluesy twang to spacey prog-metal shimmer, as the bass and drums knit a tight groove underneath.

Conceptually, I lose Maestro’s lyrical thread somewhere in between the Maestro jumping into the ocean in the first track, and Hauksson opining about the proliferation of social media in “Kiddo…” While “tortured virtuoso struggles to compose his magnum opus” seems like a premise spit straight out of Prog Rock Idea Generator Dot Com¹, and it certainly isn’t scoring the band any gains on my originality/creativity axis, the concept is so light-handed as to be virtually untraceable across the album’s forty-nine minutes. This is just as well with me, albeit probably not in line with Magic Pie’s intention.

Maestro may not push boundaries, nor does it fully transcend the gravitational pull of its own “epic” opening. But with a high technical coefficient and just enough self-awareness to avoid tumbling into the black hole of prog pretension, Magic Pie chart a respectable course through the vector space. For all its uneven pacing and conceptual fuzziness, if you’re looking for a warm, comforting slice of prog rock that’s easy on the palate, Magic Pie’s Maestro is worth digging into.

Recommended tracks: Opus Imperfectus Pt. 1 – The Missing Chord, Somebody Else’s Wannabe
You may also like: Moon Safari, Southern Empire, The Twenty Committee, The Cryptex
Final verdict: 6.5/10

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

Label: Karisma Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Magic Pie is:
– Kim Stenberg (guitar)
– Eirikur Hauksson (vocals)
– Erling Henanger (keyboard)
– Lars Petter Holstad (bass)
– Martin Utby (drums)

1. Whether or not this is a real website is left up to your imagination, dear reader ︎

The post Review: Magic Pie – Maestro appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style:  Progressive rock, folk rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Soen, The Dear Hunter, new Leprous, Hozier
Country: USA (Wisconsin)
Release date: 11 April 2025

I like going to the sphagnum bog near my house. Carved into the landscape by the inflow of the Champlain Sea some 12,000 years ago, this ecologically significant area is home to a rich array of flora and fauna in spite of its oligotrophic conditions. Once used for farming, it is now wrapped around by a scenic boardwalk peppered with signage detailing the bog’s history, plants and animals to look out for, and bafflingly, one rather editorialized sign depicting how mysterious bog creatures might come lurching out of the mist and kill you. A strange juxtaposition, to be sure, but perhaps not wholly incomparable to the experience of wandering through the murkier corners of progressive rock: the terrain may be uneven, there may be some unpredictable encounters along the way, but there’s always a promise of discovery.

Billed in the steam room of the Progressive Subway as a mix of Soen and The Dear Hunter, Samtar immediately caught my attention as a fan of those two bands. A one-man project with a prolific seven albums to his name in just five years, Samtar’s offerings are indeed deserving of both these comparisons and more, as he pairs a ringingly resonant baritone register giving touches of Soen’s Joel Ekelöf (“Desert Creature”) and Jim Grey of Caligula’s Horse (“Refuse”) with instrumental backing that ponderously navigates from dreamy and subtle to insistent and pulsing. In addition to the various heavier influences, Samtar also bears somewhat of a resemblance to Hozier (“All You Ever Wanted”) in his plaintive vocal delivery and blues-tinged folk instrumentals. The more those jazz and blues elements poke out of the mire, the better the effect, as the swingin’ guitar lines provide a smooth complement to Samtar in his relaxed baritone element.

All’s not well in the bog, however, and some of the trouble lies in the higher vocal range that Samtar seems intent on conquering. “Destiny is a Lie” illustrates this inconsistency perfectly, as the track sees him venture into a flimsy falsetto that adds nothing to the delivery. Belting, as in “All You Ever Wanted”, isn’t much better. It’s not that he can’t hit the high notes; more that doing so sometimes sounds like an uncomfortable strain.

This lack of vocal and lyrical subtlety sometimes makes for jarring juxtapositions of the album’s understated moments with the more bombastic ones. In “Fickle Fortune”, when Samtar cries out, “I fucking hate the fact we play these games”, I want to chastise him: sir, we’re in a bog! Don’t disturb the apparitions. Similarly in “Broken Sparrow”, which is the least heavy track on The Bog of Cosmic Delusions, Samtar’s climactic, passionate vocal release lacks the restraint and precision required for a successful execution, and the passion feels unearned. Also awkward at times is the way the lyrical and musical phrases are paired: emphasis often falls on the wrong syllable—this is particularly noticeable in “Distant Voices”, but recurs throughout the album.

While the vocals bubble most prominently up to the surface of The Bog of Cosmic Delusions, Samtar delivers capable and varied instrumental performances across the album. Also to his credit, Samtar’s writing boasts some genuinely catchy hooks: tracks like “Desert Creature” and “Fickle Fortune” are effortless to bop along to, and firmly lodged themselves in my head throughout my time in the mire. The weight given to the bass in the mix contributes to this infectious appeal, infusing a persistent groove under the action that reminds me of a walking bass line at times. “The Whispers” is probably the most instrumentally suggestive of The Dear Hunter; the intro sounds like it could be straight off Migrant. The glittering keys and jazz-adjacent guitar throughout are satisfying, though this track as well as a few others (“All You Ever Wanted”, “Vicarious Voodoo”) end rather abruptly.

Not unlike the boardwalk that winds through the bog near my home, The Bog of Cosmic Delusions is a journey replete with twists and turns, and a few unwelcome bogeymen along the way. Samtar’s strengths—his baritone voice, catchy riffs, and moody instrumental backdrops—offer stepping stones of real promise. But the trek is tripped up by unpolished vocal forays, lyrical clumsiness, and occasional lapses in nuance and finesse. With a finer touch and careful footing, Samtar’s next expedition might yield more solid ground.

Recommended tracks: Desert Creature, The Whispers, Vicarious Voodoo
You may also like: Thomas Giles, Birdmask, Mono Town
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Independent

Samtar is:
– Samtar (everything)

The post Review: Samtar – The Bog of Cosmic Delusions appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Gothic metal, progressive metal (mixed vocals)
FFO: Green Carnation, Ulver, Borknagar, Amorphis
Country: Norway
Release date: 11 April 2025

In the Woods… have been in those woods for such a long time, you’d be forgiven for thinking that they may have gotten lost out there. Various incarnations of this Norwegian gothic metal outfit have come and gone since their formation in 1991. Born of the same womb as the great Green Carnation¹, the two bifurcated sometime after their birth (I’m pretty sure that’s not how biology works, but cut me some slack; I’m not that kind of woman in STEM), with members going their separate ways as two distinct projects. Each band went on to develop coherent but distinct sounds, both foundational to the development of gothic metal in Norway. After numerous personnel changes, genre shifts, a fourteen year hiatus, and seven albums, In the Woods… on Otra are not the same band that they used to be, neither in membership—only drummer Anders Kobro remains from the original lineup—nor sound. 

These days, In the Woods… offer up a somewhat mellower iteration on their blackened doom-metal roots, and bear comparison with a host of other bands: there’s a fair bit of Green Carnation-ish melodicism and emotional poignancy even in the instrumental deliveries; some Borknagar-ian blackened explosivity; and warmly inviting poppy Ulver-esque tones. Though I may be running out of suffixes to adject-ify band names, In the Woods… are far from running out of inspiration, with cohesive songwriting that draws freshness from their various influences without needing to reinvent the wheel.

While opening track “The Things You Shouldn’t Know” establishes the playbook for Otra, sprawling over eight minutes with cavernous, melancholy riffing and a deft display of vocalist Bernt Fjellestad’s versatility, it’s the following track “A Misrepresentation of I” where these elements start to synergize to their full potential. With an uptick in tempo, shades of Amorphis peek through, and the vocal harmonies in the pre-chorus at 3:40 are delectable. My one quibble with the track—and I apologize if you are one of those who normally ignore lyrics and I’m now ruining this for you, but misery loves company—is that nobody noticed the missing syllable in the word “misrepresentation”, either while writing, or the six times that Fjellestad repeats it during the song.

Mispronunciations aside, Fjellestad’s vocal performance is dynamic and versatile. His growls roil with a bubbling bog-monster potency evocative of Amorphis’ Tomi Joutsen (see the punchy, syncopated growls at 2:10 in “The Crimson Crown”), while he slides effortlessly across a honeyed clean vocal range, especially satisfying in the upper register (2:16 in “Come Ye Sinners”). Best of all, the balance and interplay of these elements seems to be fine-tuned from 2022’s Diversum; here, harsh and melodic passages interweave mostly seamlessly, with the exception of “The Kiss and the Lie”, which struggles with a more jarring vicissitude. 

Indeed, Otra is the band’s second album with their current lineup, and this comparative stability bears fruit across the board: the whole instrumental package is smooth. One might expect a heavy, crushing sound from dual guitarists André Sletteberg and Bernt Sørensen. But they instead inhabit a more chambered and timeless sonic space, a hall of mirrors echoing with riffs that ripple and reflect rather than pummeling, evoking more rock than metal with a light hand on the distortion. They also have a bit of a penchant for power chords; whether sweeping under the scorching growls in “The Kiss and the Lie” or more subtly in “The Crimson Crown”, these harshen the edges and lend a sense of foreboding to the musical landscape.

To my ears, the style of songwriting that In the Woods… have cultivated since their reunion is one with a high floor and a relatively low ceiling. That’s not to say that Otra doesn’t have its flowing peaks, but more so that the band takes only calculated risks, making for music that’s easy to like and somewhat harder to love. Fans of original In the Woods… may miss their truly avant-garde bent, but modest variations on the playbook like the delicate pop-Ulver stylings in the intro of “Let Me Sing” or the rock ‘n’ roll groove of “Come Ye Sinners” variegate the palette without colouring too far outside the lines.

Otra’s sepia-soaked cover depicts the river in Norway for which the album is named. The scene is melancholy, vivid despite the lack of colour, and timeless; all qualities that permeate the album’s forty-six minutes. Thirty-four years after first setting out, In the Woods… may never fully return to where they began, but somewhere out in those perennial woods, they’ve learned how to dwell in the introspective melancholia of the spaces between then and now.

Recommended tracks: A Misrepresentation of I, Let Me Sing, Come Ye Sinners

You may also like: Novembre, Throes of Dawn, Octoploid, Barren Earth

Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Prophecy Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

In the Woods… is:

– Bernt Fjellestad (vocals)
– Anders Kobro (drums, percussion)
– André Sletteberg (guitar)
– Bernt Sørensen (guitar)
– Nils Olav Drivdal (bass)

1.  Whom I have also had the privilege of reviewing for this website ︎

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