Artwork by: Eirini Grammenou

Style: Progressive Metalcore (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Erra, Silent Planet, Thornhill (The Dark Pool), Polaris, Currents
Country: Greece
Release date: 30 May 2025

Little time was lost by my colleagues when it came to sniffing out facets of my musical inclinations. Some sides of a stone sparkle brighter than others, after all. As a result of their sleuthing, I’ve been dubbed “the metalcore guy;” a badge some may wear with shame, yet one I proudly present to the world. Works like Sempiternal (Bring Me The Horizon), The Death of Peace of Mind (Bad Omens), and Silent Planet’s entire discography rank amongst some of my favorite albums. There’s something activating about the dichotomy of hefty angst and (often) uplifting choruses, that vein of emotionality which inform the genre. Oh, and the breakdowns, of course. One can’t overlook a great, neck-snapping, back-throwing breakdown. I was thus presented with a recommendation: The Longing Light, debut EP from progressive metalcore newbies Nonlinear. Being the metalcore guy that I am, I accepted.

First things first. Please, oh please for the love of all that is right and good in this world, stop with the instrumental / ambient opening tracks. This is an issue that plagues more than metalcore, an infection of the wider metalsphere, and few are the bands who can properly justify the inclusion. EPs, by their very nature, offer limited listening capacity, and to waste one of those precious slots on such needless aurafarming veers close to criminal. I could overlook it if “Awakening” segued into list mate “Monochrome Chamber,” but it doesn’t. Instead, “Monochrome Chamber” hits reset on The Longing Light’s flow, offering up decidedly Silent Planet-flavored synths alongside a central riff that bends and skips like something out of the pre-Iridescent days. It’s a cool opening for a song, and feels far more natural than “Awakening.”

That said, what surprised me about Nonlinear is their ability to pull from a variety of different styles within the metalcore world. Most notably, The Longing Light features warping Silent Planet riffs and breakdowns (“Monochrome Chamber,” “The Longing Light”), uplifting pop-centered hooks and guitars à la early Polaris (“Reflections”), and the interplay between the roiling harshes and ethereal cleans courtesy of Erra. The record even features a trip hop-inspired instrumental at the midway point that calls to mind Post Human-era Bring Me The Horizon. And while this represents something of an identity crisis for the group, their newness cannot be overlooked. Hewing to influences is natural; metal of all stripes has been cannibalizing and laterally reproducing since pretty much its inception. Whether Nonlinear can shape these elements into something more recognizably their own is something only time can be sure of.

Where difficulties lie ahead, I fear, is less with appropriation of sound and more in the execution. To be clear, none of the performances here are bad, but neither are they activating in that special way great metalcore can be. The harsh vocals, while occasionally spicing things up with a good “blegh!” and a snarl here and there, come across rather one-dimensional and forced in their toughness, while the thinness of the cleans strip them of any real power. Yet, on “Reflections,” both approaches feel empowered by the Polaris-coded aesthetics in ways they struggle to provide on most of The Longing Light’s scant twenty-two minutes. Similarly, the music never really finds the hooks needed to grab the listener. “Reflections” probably comes closest, especially when it transitions from an introspective bridge into an ascendant closing moment as the drums build into a rumbling gallop around heaven-sent vocalization. Oddly enough, “Holding On” finds similar legs to stand on, despite being a short-lived instrumental; the trip hop groove and pulse-y synths forge an easy rhythm and vibe to settle into. “The Longing Light” seeks heartstring territory with its searching cleans, think-space carving breakdown, and writhing guitars, but never quite manages to pull off the sense of emotional authenticity required to succeed.

Nonlinear are trapped in a bit of an odd quandary. On one hand, their ability to incorporate various flavors of metalcore into their sound is admirable. But on the other, the band are perhaps using these sounds as crutches to hold up songwriting which otherwise lacks the necessary kung-fu grip. I’m a firm believer that iteration sits above originality when it comes to artistic pursuits. However, Nonlinear have yet to escape the shadows of their perceived influences and fully step into the light they long for, relying too much on recognizable moments to help them color within the lines of this largely paint-by-numbers sound. At the end of the day, The Longing Light is perfectly fine, but hardly essential. Luckily, Nonlinear have plenty of time to hone their craft. I have faith. After all, Bad Omens transitioned from a Bring Me The Horizon clone to writing The Death of Peace of Mind. Never say never. Keep looking for that light.

Recommended tracks: Reflections, Holding On, The Longing Light
You may also like: Save Your Last Breath, Artemis Rising, Simbulis
Final verdict: 5/10

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

Label: Independent

Nonlinear is:
– Konstantinos Chitas (clean vocals, guitar)
– Nikos Koudounas (bass)
– Alexander Louropoulos (guitar)
– Christos Papakonstantinou (drums)
– George Plaskasovitis (vocals)
With guests:
– Vrodex (feat. on “Holding On”)

The post Review: Nonlinear – The Longing Light appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal, jazz fusion (Instrumental)
Recommended for fans of: Atheist, Cynic, The Omnific
Country: International
Release date: 30 May 2025

The fretless bass is an indispensable tool for tech deathers and fusioners alike. With its otherworldly and smooth timbre, the instrument adds a distinctly heady flavor to any piece. I personally can’t get enough of it, and neither can bassists Steve DiGiorgio (Death, Autopsy, Control Denied, among many others) and Jeroen Paul Thesseling (Obscura, Pestilence) of Quadvium, an instrumental progressive metal group based on the conceit of, “What if fretless bass but more?” On their debut, Tetradōm, DiGiorgio and Thesseling duel and weave around technical fusion passages, but are two Quads better than one?

Tetradōm finds a firm base in 90s technical death metal (Cynic, Atheist) and modern fusion prog (Exivious, Gordian Knot, The Omnific), grafting together twisted branches of instrumental aggression with smooth and jazzy chord choices in a signature double-bass (not that kind) sound. Many tracks are labyrinthine in nature, wildly transitioning from idea to idea at the drop of a hat. To glue this collage together, Quadvium bookend songs by reprising an introductory idea or reincorporating passages from earlier in a track. The fretless basses often sit at the compositional center, sometimes swirling around each other in a jousting frenzy (“Náströnd”), at other times coalescing in ethereal harmonies (“Eidolon”). The texture and sound of the bass is explored all throughout Tetradōm, often evoking in the quieter moments imagery of still, placid water gently rippling against a cosmic sea backdrop.

And like water off an astral duck’s back, Tetradōm’s ideas roll off my consciousness the moment they pass through my tetra-dome. Most tracks begin cohesively enough, then descend into chaos: pieces like “Moksha”, “Ghardus”, and “Nästrónd” introduce a melody that builds in intensity only to follow them up with a bevy of sudden, jarring transitions into unrelated ideas. As a consequence, any momentum that may have been established is halted and the revisited passages feel like separate tracks that were spliced and rearranged into a single piece. I enjoy many of the ideas that Quadvium try, particularly the jagged tech deathy fusion that opens “Apophis” and its subsequent piano break, or the tranquil floating bass of opener “Moksha”. But for the ideas to have impact, they need to offer context for a grander moment or lead to a central theme; a collage of cool moments that are bookended by a motif does not a successful song make. The production doesn’t do these pieces any favors either. The louder parts of “Moksha”, for example, are difficult to listen to as every instrument feels crunched into oblivion, none given space to breathe or any sense of prominence in the mix.

Tetradōm’s most successful songwriting appears on “Ghardus” and “Eidolon”. The former begins with a lopsided fusion drum solo that rolls into a foreboding atmosphere complete with creeping guitars and ominous, thrumming bass. This establishing idea gradually evolves across the track’s runtime, coming to a semi-climax with a pleasant guitar solo and a surprising piano break. “Ghardus” still gives the slightest nagging feeling of meandering but at least lays down a solid compositional foundation for Quadvium to explore their double-bass (still not that kind) frenzy. “Eidolon” features a breathtaking and otherworldly bass tone, swirling tides of purple ebbing and flowing in intensity to staccato rhythms and intermittent soloing. The songwriting is not quite as strong as “Ghardus”, but manages to explore its established ideas well and even includes a subtle nod to opener “Moksha” to bookend the record.

The premise of Tetradōm had me giddy with excitement, but its execution swiftly yanked me out of my suspension of disbelief. The briefest lapses in my attention left me wondering how the hell we got here, and even when listening with a laser focus, the songwriting approach is a largely inscrutable as tracks fly from idea to idea. However, it may be more helpful to see Tetradōm as a sketchbook that prototypes the possibilities of this playing style. With a bit of songwriting finesse and a continued lean into the strengths of the fretless bass, one can only hope that future Quadvium releases are a two-for-one deal worth investing in.

Recommended tracks: Eidolon, Ghardus, Apophis
You may also like: Coevality, Gordian Knot, Vipassi, Panzerballett, Barend Tromp, Exivious, Planet X
Final verdict: 4/10

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

Label: Agonia Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Quadvium is:
– Steve DiGiorgio (bass)
– Jeroen Paul Thesseling (bass)
– Yuma van Eekelen (drums)
– Eve (guitars)

The post Review: Quadvium – Tetradōm appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Neofolk, dark folk (Clean vocals, mostly instrumental)
Recommended for fans of: Vàli, Ulver (Kveldssanger), Empyrium, Agalloch (The White EP), Nest
Country: West Virginia, United States
Release date: 9 May 2025

The book Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer is a revelation, outlining in no uncertain terms a synthesis of scientific and Native Animist thought into a singular holistic worldview. In her book, she recounts and analyzes Eastern Woodland mythos through stories from several tribes, including the Potawatomi and Haudenosaunee peoples. At their cultural nexus lies gratitude, an ethos that one reciprocates the gifts of nature through stewardship, mutual care, and the creation of art. Neofolk-turned-black-metal project Nechochwen aims to embody this gratitude on latest record spelewithiipi through a series of vignettes dedicated to the river and region of the same name¹. How does Nechochwen express their gratitude for the land that shaped them?

A carefree, pastoral air encompasses spelewithiipi’s compositions, led by guitars and occasionally embellished by flutes, hand drums, and field recordings. Many pieces encompass the dark folk spirit of Ulver’s Kveldssanger through their motif-drenched guitar work while others lean into an americana edge with twangy sliding notes, rambling melodic expositions, and playing inspired by banjo techniques. “Precipice of Stone” even tends to a Tenhi songwriting style with gloomy psychedelic soundscaping and dirging drumwork from Pohonasin; the tonality and open voice of Nechochwen’s cathartic vocalizations in the latter half lends the piece a distinct Eastern Woodland touch.

The central ethos of spelewithiipi is presented on opener “lenawe’owiin”, meaning ‘Native American way of being’². Nechochwen weaves a web of ideas shaped by personal, interpersonal, and cultural knowledge, reflecting on dreams and visions (“lenawe’owiin”, “Precipice of Stone”), locations that inspire thought on past and future (“spelewithiipi”, “mthothwathiipi”, “Great Meadows Vista”), and figures steeped in intrigue (“othaškwa’alowethi behme”, “Nemacolin’s Path”). “tpwiiwe”, or ‘one who brings truth’, is a glyph commonly inscribed on prayer sticks to give thanks to any number of beings and spirits; the track itself is intended as a sort of tpwiiwe whose symbolism is left up to the listener. The experience is particularly striking, inspiring a series of internal struggles and resolutions while reflecting on how gratitude manifests in my life. spelewithiipi’s presentation as a whole inspires an easygoing stream-of-consciousness, sauntering unhurriedly between concepts while staying tethered to its central tenets like stories told around a campfire with friends.

spelewithiipi’s pieces go through similarly relaxed trajectories, morphing internally within sections and starting anew once an idea has reached its end. Many tracks end up surprisingly oblique in their structure despite the simplicity of the compositions, requiring some patience and effort to get a hold of their fuzzy sensibilities. “spelewithiipi”, for example, dreamily captures glimpses of a single location, gently exploring its river banks before moving on to a scene from another time. “tpwiiwe” and “mthothwathiipi” guide the listener in similar form through a subtle and suggestive evolution of balmy picked acoustics. The approach begins to fall apart a bit, however, on closing tracks “Nemacolin’s Path” and “Primordial Passage”. The former embodies the spirit of Chief Nemacolin, renowned for his remarkable skills as a guide and navigator through forest landscapes; the latter internalizes the mix of excitement and wistfulness that comes with leaving your homeland and being the first to explore a new place. Both gently reprise melodies from their opening sections, but the pieces meander a bit too liberally, missing ideas that give a sense of direction.

Thematically, this nonchalant approach is relaxing and soothing, but it bears additional challenges when looking at spelewithiipi’s songwriting narrative. Plenty of variation is offered in length and structure: some tracks are internally complete, and some are more nebulous. Overall, though, there is an underlying sense of heterogeneity that prevents the pieces from coalescing as wholly as the ideas behind them. The drumwork on “lenawe’owiin”, for example, feels like it’s building to something more intense that never comes, giving a sense of incompleteness when the record suddenly moves on to another idea. Additionally, “othaškwa’alowethi behme” is a mysterious and somewhat foreboding interlude with nice soundscaping, but it feels a bit jarring in its placement after “tpwiiwe”, one of spelewithiipi’s more tranquil and delicate moments.

In trying to ford spelewithiipi’s forests, I realize I simply don’t have the same navigational acuity as Nemacolin. Swelling with beauty, metaphor, and gratitude, the record vividly explores a multi-faceted relationship with land, culture, and self, but without the context behind the pieces, the compositions can sometimes struggle to bear the weight of their meaning. Regardless, spelewithiipi offers ample food for thought under its delicate structure and free-flowing approach, inspiring a closer examination of the land that surrounds us and our relationship to it.

Recommended tracks: tpwiiwe, mthothwathiipi, Precipice of Stone
You may also like: Ulvesang, October Falls, Liljevars Brann, Wÿntër Ärvń, Sangre de Muérdago
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Nordvis Produktion – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Nechochwen is:
– Nechochwen (guitars, flute, hand drums, vocals)
– Pohonasin (bass, drums)

1. Spelewithiipi is the Shawnee name for the Ohio River, but specifically the area surrounding Ohio and West Virginia. ︎
2. The language is not specified, but the blurb related to this track on Nechochwen’s Bandcamp calls out the loyalhanna hotewe, implying the word likely comes from that group. ︎

The post Review: Nechochwen – spelewithiipi appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: post-metal, sludge metal, shoegaze, noise rock, stoner rock, post-hardcore (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of:  Parannoul, Asian Glow, Neurosis, Boris
Country: South Korea
Release date: 15 May 2025

Modern medicine is amazing. People have lived well over a year with an artificial heart, and doctors can perform entire heart transplants. Alas, the human being still needs a heart, be it a machine or originally somebody else’s, and a person would wither and die almost instantly without the blood-pumping organ. South Korea’s Baan have a mission: rip out the still-beating heart from four genres and try to keep the result alive for sixty minutes. According to their Bandcamp, Baan aim to be “Doom but not boring / Screamo but not crying / Hardcore but not macho / Shoegaze but not sucks.” Dodging all four of those pitfalls while playing those genres is gonna require a musical miracle to occur on Neumann. Do Baan achieve what doctors cannot?

Let’s proceed one by one. Neumann certainly avoids the crying part of screamo by not being screamo beyond some halfheartedly shouted harsh vocals; the record also contains some amateur cleanly sung, crowd-chant adjacent cleans. Both vocal styles are completely obliterated by the mix to the point of being nearly inaudible—they may have recorded them from across the street—rendering them a strident nuisance. Similar to the self-described “screamo” aspect of Baan’s sound, the macho part of hardcore, by virtue of mostly avoiding true punkiness, is eschewed by Baan. Those two soul-of-the-genre omissions are cheating, though, and Neumann is really post-y, noisy, atmospheric sludge metal, with the atmospheric part coming from shoegaze and stoner rock influence.

Thankfully, the doom metal (read: sludge and post- metal) parts are not boring, and the shoegaze aspect don’t sucks [sic]! Fuzzed out guitars and Baan’s love of noisy amplifiers drive Neumann, and the South Korean band have a keen ear for melody and rhythm, with wistful yet hard-hitting guitar parts and dynamic, Mastodon-esque drumming. “Birdperson 새사람” has the first shoegaze part around 3:40 with airy guitars above pummeling double bass, but it’s not until the second track “Early Bird Dies Fast” where Baan hit their stride, the spacey trem picking of the simultaneously woolly yet shimmery guitars playing a beautiful tune—almost nostalgic in tone, as if Astronoid wrote stoner doom. The strongest asset in the band’s arsenal, however, is their weaponization of noise, with exemplary moments like the middle breakdown of “Sing a Brave Song 2 씩씩한 노래를 불러라 2” and the sludgy violence of “Reversal of a Man.” The bass playing is also killer, but unfortunately it almost never makes an appearance with the exception of “Sing a Brave Song 1 씩씩한 노래를 불러라 1” where it gets significant time leading. 

Despite the strength of the riffs and drumming, the album wears itself thin within forty minutes, the schtick played out. By the end of the three-part “Sing a Brave Song 씩씩한 노래를 불러라,” I’m snoozing at the prospect of more Baan, and the boring track “Not Yet” contributes nothing that previous songs like “Histrionic” hadn’t done better. Moreover, the closer, “Oldman 헌사람,” plays into a tedious atmospheric intro that lasts for several minutes before recapping with uninspired shoegaze vocals from Asian Glow; so, I’m forced to admit that while the shoegaze instrumental sections don’t sucks, the shoegaze vocals sucks. Baan clearly had fun tinkering with their amplifiers and jamming out—at the expense of a more concise, better album. 

South Korea is truly a hotbed for noisy, homemade shoegaze recently (Parannoul, Asian Glow, Huremic), and Baan have certainly made a name for themselves with the release of Neumann. Their mix of energetic, growly, and fuzzy guitar tones with passionate and delicate melodies contributes something new to their scene. The band just needs an editor and a better singer. But fans of everything from post-metal to punk will find something to enjoy in Neumann—I certainly did.

Recommended tracks: Early Bird Dies Fast, Histrionic, Sing a Brave Song 1-3 씩씩한 노래를 불러라 1-3
You may also like: Meth., The Angelic Process, Glassing, Huremic, Sadness
Final verdict: 6/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Instagram

Label: independent

Baan is:
반재현 [Baan Jae-hyun]
김진규 [Kim Jin-gyu aka April 28th]
이성재 [Lee Seong-jae]
장진웅 [Jang Jin-ung]

The post Review: Baan – Neumann appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Dream Theater, Haken, Circus Maximus, Threshold, Voyager
Country: Finland
Release date: 16 May 2025

I know this will come as a shock to readers of a website dedicated to the progressive music underground, but I hate modern mainstream pop. Pick a facet of a song in the genre—melody, rhythm, tempo, etcetera—and it has all largely homogenized into a single mold flattened to a I-V-vi-IV chord progression¹ at 100 BPM with a bass drop targeting TikTok virality. I’m not so elitist as to call all pop music shallow or worthless, but when accessibility comes first, anything musically interesting to me usually comes last. With that in mind, I’m often at a loss for words to explain why I love progressive metal that has a semblance of pop sensibility. Some of my favorite modern artists—like Protest the Hero or Periphery—have a knack for throwing in a poppy hook at just the right moment to recontextualize a phrase or an entire song.

On that note, Joviac’s Autofiction, Pt. 1 – Shards appears to have tossed its hat into the ring. Taking plenty of influence from progressive powerhouses like Dream Theater and Haken, these Finns blend those inspirations with a flair for prog popification that’s undeniably catchy. So catchy, in fact, that I thought I might end up writing them off as cliché…until I saw their Bandcamp page include “addictive hooks and even clichés” in their mission statement. Turns out they got there first—and honestly, I can’t hate on the sincerity. Shards’ third track “B.O.M.B.” perfectly illustrates this embrace of hooks and tropes. In one of the transitional sections of the song, the lyrics deliver repeated, stacked rhymes that feel like they have no meaning: “Containing it, maintaining it, restraining it. I’m torn apart by gravity, calamity, depravity. It’s off the chart, and I can’t explain or give a name for this pain. I’m losing my aim. So I have to keep—” repeating the phrase. It’s corny and cringey, but ear-wormy as hell nonetheless.

Such moments don’t mean that the progressive metal that makes up the core of Shards is taking a backseat, though. The album opens with two instrumental tracks. The first, “Level 1,” wouldn’t sound out of place on Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence, with its flowing yet staccato rhythm, power chord groove, and organ-like keyboard accompaniment. Comparatively, the soft and airy textures of “Haven” stand starkly against the preceding song, but the piece serves as more of an extended intro to the aforementioned “B.O.M.B.” Later in the album, another instrumental track (“Level 7”) provides a delightfully heavy start, transitioning into an infectious guitar riff while a punctuated synth tip-toes over the top that will have you rewinding the track before it even has a chance to finish.

By contrast, what follows “Level 7” is a purely vocal track which all the choir kids should love. “Open Eyes and Mind” beautifully adds an additional voice and builds more accord each time the song’s singular phrase repeats. Which leads me to vocalist/guitarist Viljami Jupiter Wenttola: I can’t say that his voice has the most striking or distinct timbre, and on the lower end he struggles to get into the baritone range that some moments of songs demand. But, as “Open Eyes and Mind” and tracks like “Canvas” illustrate, his sense of melody and harmony is so spot-on that those aforementioned foibles hardly merit a mention. Wenttola’s vocal lines are the primary bait on Joviac’s hook, and I’m biting every time.

If you only listen to one song off of Shards to see if it’s for you, I’d consider “Shine” the album’s exemplar. The snappy riffs, sing-along vocals, and addictive keyboard motifs all take turns calling for your attention, and while the song is relatively straightforward in terms of structure, the off-beat main melody and tastefully shredding guitar solos carry the progressive credentials into this pop concoction. “Canvas,” on the other hand, eschews pretty much all prog sensibilities to create a radio-rock, quasi-ballad single straight out of the ‘80s—and I’m a total sucker for it. Elsewhere, Joviac don’t shy away from the more progressive elements of their sound and songwriting, and songs like “Burn” and “Once” illustrate all of it—longer compositions, unconventional structures, and even a tasteful amount of djenty downtuned rhythm to give the songs a distinctly modern flair.

The Dream Theater worship that Shards puts on display should reel in any fans of the prog metal standard-bearers (you can’t see it but I’m raising my hand right now). Many clean tones mirror the glassy sound of Images and Words, while several of the the low-tuned, overdriven guitars have a distinctly Train of Thought liquid smoothness to them. Varied and distinct keyboard sounds, and a bass that does more than just provide the bottom end also contribute to this vibe. And—not to put too fine a point on the comparison—the closing notes that ring out in “Burn” are a descending melody that will sound familiar to anybody who put “Metropolis” (the song or album) in heavy rotation at some point in their life. About the only thing that The Pull Me Understudies don’t infuse from the masters at any point is the percussion. By and large, the drumming is quite reserved on Shards compared to most progressive metal, making sparing use of flashy fills or heavy double bass precision. The drums are mostly content to maintain the tempo, keep things moving, and let the other instruments do the showing off.

Make no mistake, though, the influence from The Progfessors doesn’t define Joviac’s sound on Shards. Their blend of progressive metal and catchy refrains grows on me with every spin, and that medley becomes more its own thing with each and every listen. Autofiction, Pt. 1 – Shards doesn’t just flirt with accessibility—it weaponizes it. While I still have a distaste for modern pop, Joviac might make me stop saying that out loud if they keep twisting it into something this dense and nerdy. I’m already eagerly awaiting Autofiction, Pt. 2.

Recommended tracks: Shine, Level 7, Once, B.O.M.B.
You may also like: Moron Police, Maraton, Lost in Thought, Virtual Symmetry
Final verdict: 8/10

Related Links: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram | Website | Metal-Archives

Label: Independent

Joviac is:
Viljami Jupiter Wenttola – Vocals, Guitar
Antti Varjanne – Bass
Johannes Leipälä – Guitar

1. This video is still as relevant as ever. Things have only homogenized further since. ︎

The post Review: Joviac – Autofiction, Pt. 1 – Shards appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Ayreon, Dream Theater, Circus Maximus, The Dear Hunter (conceptually if not musically)
Country: Spain
Release date: 23 May 2025

It’s a great tragedy for artists everywhere and in every medium that passion is not sufficient for success. Passion can carry a creator through the travails of completing their work and releasing it to the public, but it can never guarantee that the end product will be of high quality, nor that it will receive the attention it deserves from the target audience. SerapiS Project have invested their passions mainly in the Patreon model for funding and distributing their creative efforts, offering a persistent fantasy universe with a continuous narrative. Their previous full-length album Palingenesis laid the foundation for this storytelling effort, establishing primary characters and motivations, mainly drawing on historical and mythological figures relating to the underworld, from the titular Serapis to Hades and even the Egyptian Queen Nefertiti. Side Stories continues in the same world, instead diving deeper into the characters’ backgrounds through a set of (you guessed it) side stories. I have a lot of respect for the ambition of a project like this; large-scale storytelling through music remains an underexplored space, with few artists other than Ayreon or The Dear Hunter willing to commit to such an effort, and the few who do rarely do a good job of it. As you might have inferred, SerapiS Project don’t seem to be any exception to the latter.

There can be little doubt that the members of SerapiS Project have placed a tremendous amount of emotional investment in their shared creative project, but little of that passion shows through in the qualities of the music itself. The compositions are formulaic and dull, the performances primarily stilted and unemotional—ostensibly progressive metal, but only of the most generic kind, with no particular depth in their songwriting and the smallest possible amount of lip service paid to the hallmarks of the genre. Songs change tempos and time signatures not so much because of any artistic purpose for doing so, but because that’s what happens in progressive metal songs. Often these changes feel sudden and jarring, such as around the 3:25 mark of the closing track “Order and Justice.” Even the more gradual transitions, such as in “The Gravest Mistake,” don’t add meaningful intrigue or complexity, they just serve as transitions between parts that sound slightly different for the sake of being different.

The Bandcamp page for SerapiS Project describes the band’s sound thus: “Swinging between minimalist, acoustic, clean vocal passages and powerful heavy riffs with harsh vocals.” It’s difficult to agree though; acoustic elements mostly make their appearance in minor openings and interludes rather than featuring as a main component of the band’s sound, and “minimalist” is one of the last words I would choose to describe Side Stories given how many of its arrangements consist of arbitrarily layering different parts on top of each other with little artistic intent. Admittedly, the soft acoustic guitar sections might be the strongest, as they accept the limitations of the format and don’t overreach the capabilities of the instrument or musician, instead embracing simple, gentle compositions which highlight the natural beauty of the instrument. However, being such a small, non-integral part of the album as a whole, these brief asides can’t do much to salvage a positive impression.

In numerous ways, this release seems to be an afterthought for SerapiS Project.¹ For better or for worse, that doesn’t seem to have significantly improved or hindered the quality of the music itself; Side Stories is just as unfocused in its structure as its predecessor. When SerapiS Project are able to keep attention on a mere one or two musical elements, such as during the atmospheric, acoustic segments or when the guitars are given free rein to play a flashy riff or two backed by simple drum licks, it’s easier to see the vision for what this album should sound like given capable performances. The main flaw which undercuts that vision is in the cohesion of all the pieces put together, which tend to blur and melt into an indistinct blob the more elements are piled on top. While the opening of “The Fury of the Storm” sounds fairly impressive with fast guitar arpeggios, the title track has those same musicians struggling to maintain a tight tempo when they try to offer a quick fill between repetitions of the melody in the closing verse, folding into a muddy mess instead.

Digging into the peripheral content they’ve released, such as YouTube Q&A sessions with fans and patrons, it’s clear that SerapiS Project carry a deep passion for the music they create and the story they’re telling through it. The band members obviously relate emotionally to the characters they’re depicting and the narrative themes of ascension and revenge, and most of all they want to share those treasures with a wider fan base. However, passion itself is not enough to write and produce a good album. If Side Stories were being performed live at the far end of a crowded bar on a random week night, I would enjoy the evening’s entertainment and generally be pretty impressed at the effort required to produce an entire original album. Given that it’s been released in full for an online audience, with accompanying bonus content to entice prospective patrons to support the band financially, I have more concerns. It’s 2025, and the internet is already filled with more music than anyone could ever hope to listen to. If you want to make music with your friends and band-mates for the fun of it or as an outlet for creative expression, great; if you want people to give you money for it, you should probably make sure it actually sounds good.

Recommended tracks: Emptiness, The Fury of the Storm if you stop listening after the first minute
You may also like: DGM, Hemina, Master Sword, Daydream XI, Azure (for the storytelling)
Final verdict: 3/10

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

Label: Independent

SerapiS Project is:
– Joaco Luis (guitars, backing vocals)
– Kristina Vega (vocals)
– Agus Milton (drums)
– Lucas Luis (bass)
– Sergi Martínez (guitars)

1. The album wasn’t available on major streaming platforms until roughly a week after its official release date, and at time of writing, it still isn’t available on Bandcamp except as a pre-order. Despite the band uploading numerous videos to their YouTube channel so far this year, I can find only a handful that pertain directly to Side Stories, including the announcement for its release. The band members seem more interested in the creative act of telling a story through music, and their YouTube channel offers a wealth of background detail and behind-the-scenes content for the project’s core narrative. This approach doesn’t cultivate the audience’s musical entertainment as well compared to releasing their albums through more traditional means and putting more effort into improving as musicians and songwriters. Even since the release of Side Stories, their demo and live-recording content continues to feature mainly tracks from Palingenesis. ︎

The post Review: SerapiS Project – Side Stories appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by: Vojtěch Doubek / Moonroot Art

Style: Progressive Sludge Metal, Melodic Death Metal (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Mastodon, Gojira, Tool, Baroness
Country: Sweden
Release date: 16 May 2025

Some words just hit different. We hear them and our minds are transported immediately to the far fields of imagination. “Gigafauna” is one such word for me. Whether I speak it, hear it, read it, or even think it, my mind’s eye alights upon creatures of infinite scale; sometimes describable (Godzilla), other times possessed of such nightmarish configurations as to defy all manner of human logic and reason (think Lovecraft’s non-euclidean treasure trove of horrors). Shearing through the gravity of worlds with lumbering tread, stars falling cold under their shadows. Immeasurable in might, unknowable of purpose, their very designs eschatonic in nature. To conjure even the idea of such a lifeform cements a sort of existential calamity for Humanity; in the wake of such an unfathomably colossal entity we would be but ants—smaller, even. Our great achievements, all the collective strength and technological power would do little but delay the inevitable snuffing of our flame. Faced with the incomprehensible, we would be forced to turn inward, a final reckoning with our very selves. The only victory left within our grasp.

Likewise, Swedish outfit Gigafauna lumbered into my awareness with the suitably eye-catching (and eldritch) album art for their sophomore LP, Eye to Windward. Proper to their namesake, the band proclaim to be treading through some hefty subject matter, including “environmental decay, existential dread, and the search for meaning beyond the confines of time and space.” And what better way to do so than via the conduits of sludge and melodic death metal, two genres capable of tectonic heft and grand, driving compositions alike. Having no prior encounters with this particular lifeform, I was excited to trawl in the wake of Gigafauna’s passage. Let’s see what we’ll uncover on this tenebrous safari.

Gigafauna delight in a forward-moving blend of sludge and melodeath; thick yet nimble riffs spiral around dexterous kitwork and a grumbling low-end, often signaling their approach well before vocalist Matt Greig’s arsenal of resonant cleans and surprisingly hefty growls hits the eardrums. The band crash through the metal undergrowth at a persistent clip, keen to reach their destination yet hardly afraid to make time for some detours along the way. Listen to “Drowning Light,” where stampeding Mastodon energy falls away to the kind of abrasively inquisitive guitar and bouncy tribal drumming that would feel at home in a 10,000 Days-era Tool track. Or the Gojira-esque grind-and-squeal guitar which dominates the main riff in “Pyres,” even as the track expands to include discordant soloing a’la Meshuggah before morphing again into an almost early aughts metalcore passage as Greig screams “God chose me!” The band whip together Amon Amarth melodeath with Avenged Sevenfold-flavored guitar lines on cuts like “Plagued” to create a slab of burly grandiosity that ends on an almost Primordial note.

Like a musical Man o’ War jellyfish—a creature composed of multitudes of separate organisms operating as a singular whole—Gigafauna pull these disparate sonic qualities into a symbiotic relationship, resulting in a majestic entity possessed of a maximal grace despite their gargantuan stature. Transitions between elements are seamless, yet never lose sight of nor erode a track’s original destination. Unlike the Man o’ War, carried across the sea on the whims of the wind, Gigafauna are unbowed by external forces. Eye to Windward represents a band in full control of their journey. Songs move with purpose, driven by the Almighty Riff, refusing to collapse into overwrought diatribes in favor of tight, consistent songwriting, and propelled by a punchy mix that adds considerable reach to every slick tendril of Gigafauna’s cosmic form.

But Gigafauna don’t quite have that mystic X-factor that takes good music to great and beyond. Perhaps it’s a matter of the sonic whole failing to rise above my storied connection to its many constituent parts. The aforementioned Tool-inspired bridge of “Drowning Light,” or the Gojira-isms lurking in “Pyres” and the closing moments of “Vessel,” for example; each stands strong as a solid element, yet fails to manifest the same kind of hypnotic pull as an actual Tool or Gojira. Perhaps that’s partially due to my long-standing history with those acts, whereas Gigafauna is new (though I’ve certainly been accused of recency bias, too). Regardless, I think that these “nameable” slices of Gigafauna’s aural makeup presenting as the most memorable, while the whole which they comprise cannot fully strike up a permanent residence in my brain, says enough as to why Eye to Windward falls just shy of ascending to greater form.

But that’s the thing about a journey: it needn’t always be new to feel exciting or satisfying. As I conclude my safari alongside this Gigafauna, stepping out from under its titanic shadow to rejoin the rest of the world in the sun, I must confess to this feeling of satisfaction. Though we may see in the celestial Gigafauna measures of terrestrial familiarity, that does not make them any less worthy of our attention. And should the earth tremble and the heavens quake beneath their returning tread, rest assured I’ll be there to walk bestride them once more, eager to hear what new stories they bring us from beyond the stars.

Recommended tracks: Plagued, Beneath Sun and Sky, Pyres, Drowning Light
You may also like: Dimhall, Void King, Blood Vulture
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Independent

Gigafauna is:
– Jens Ljungberg (bass)
– Rickard Engstrom (drums)
– Arved Nyden (guitars)
– Matt Greig (guitars, vocals)

The post Review: Gigafauna – Eye to Windward appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Vildhjarta – + Där skogen sjunger under evighetens granar +
Recommended for fans of: Meshuggah, Frontierer, Humanity’s Last Breath, Car Bomb
Picked by: Justin

Vildhjarta lift their gaze to the stars on + Där skogen sjunger under evighetens granar +, the result being a sonic equivalent of clandestine constellational cartography, fanatically surveying a strange, foreign sky. A budding new tonality within thall is eagerly explored, superimposed on an elevated backdrop of genre fundamentals that Vildhjarta themselves pioneered over a decade earlier. Like every Vildhjarta release before it, + Där skogen sjunger under evighetens granar + marks the largest evolution of sound within thall in years, an inspired rhythmic and tonal ideological proliferation. 

Well, either that, or Andy’s right and it’s no different from AI generated slop. Listen and decide for yourself, that’s what music is all about anyway.

Recommended tracks: + Två vackra svanar +, + Sargasso +, + Den spanska känslan +
Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | original review

Vauruvã – Mar de Deriva
Recommended for fans of: Wolves in the Throne Room, Panopticon, Kaatayra, Mare Cognitum
Picked by: Andy

Caio Lemos, the man behind Bríi, Kaatayra, Vauruvã (among others), is no stranger to the blog: Mar de Deriva is the seventh album I’ve reviewed of his since being tenured here in 2022. The record runs with Lemos’ patented formula of atmospheric black metal, mixing in acoustic guitars, Brazilian rhythms, clean vocals, and tranquil synths, but the vibes he curates on Mar de Deriva are new to this album in his extensive discography. Dwelling in a hazy dreaminess, Mar de Deriva is stunningly surreal, and drifting away while listening to the record is the premier listening experience to be had in 2025 so far. Turn Mar de Deriva on and let it wash over you. 

Recommended tracks: Os Caçadores, As Selvas Vermelhas No Planeta dos Eminentes
Related links: Bandcamp | Instagram | original review

SubLunar – A Random Moment of Stillness
Recommended for fans of: Riverside, Lunatic Soul, Porcupine Tree, Airbag
Picked by: Doug

[Editor’s note: this album released in April, but various dark forces conspired against posting the review in a timely fashion, so we’re including it in this month’s post.]

When I first heard the opening bars of A Random Moment of Stillness, I was instantly transported back to my early days of exploring progressive music in high school. SubLunar’s gentle yet melancholy vibe plays in the same emotional space popularized by Riverside, with a particular similarity to the sonically straightforward but compositionally deep structure of Memories in My Head. Although these inevitable comparisons must be acknowledged, I encourage you not to view them as a negative judgment. SubLunar offer a talented homage to a very particular style of heavy progressive rock, but by virtue of the love they show for that era and the skill with which they write and perform music, A Random Moment of Stillness provides a beautiful and welcome hit of nostalgia rather than feeling like a rote or unoriginal cash-in on someone else’s work. In addition, SubLunar build a slightly different atmosphere with their greater emphasis on spacey post-rock influences, one which better complements the existential doubts raised by the album’s lyrics. The experience of confronting the fleeting nature of your own mortal existence might not immediately call to mind a lot of positive adjectives, but there’s a strange comfort in the gloomy ambiance backed by high quality lyricism and musicianship. As long as you’re prepared for an introspective journey, settle in for a listen and let the gentle darkness soothe the pain of living for a while.

You might also like: Unmanned, Falling Upwards, Attract / Deter, A Sun Blur
Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | original review

Sleep Token – Even in Arcadia
Recommended for fans of: Bad Omens, Spiritbox, Dayseeker, Bastille
Picked by: Vince

Even In Arcadia further taps the vein of the masked cohort’s decadent brand of alt-pop and metal, seasoning the vintage with surprising notes of reggaeton and world music alongside tried-and-true progressive additions like saxophone. Drummer II is once more a highlight as he spiders his way across trip-hop dance beats, melancholic pianos, and crushing guitars, adding architectural flair to the band’s non-euclidean structures, while Vessel supplies heart and hurt aplenty with his sundering croons and impassioned shrieks—a clarion call to summon the hosts of Houses both Feathered and Veridian. Take Me Back To Eden was always going to be a tough act to follow; Sleep Token’s pop and metal formulas crystalized so perfectly as to create a near-flawless gem, one whose allure still burns deep two years on. Even In Arcadia doesn’t quite reach those same meteoric heights—fans hoping for another balanced helping may feel a way about the increased focus on more “mainstream” elements—but that hasn’t stopped Sleep Token from penning some of their most addictive cuts, while continuing their history of powerhouse closers with the epic “Infinite Baths.” More velvet than steel, Even In Arcadia still cuts deep, a luscious record with a lethal hold on my heart.

You might also like: Look to Windward, Emergence, Caramel, Gethsemane, Infinite Baths
Related links: Spotify | original review

Non-Subway Picks

Aesop Rock – Black Hole Superette (rap)
Handling all production duties himself as usual on his tenth album, Aesop Rock provides a vibrant, ever-shifting backdrop for his lyrically dense rapping with beats that range from relentless and frenetic to chill and jazzy. With the usual riveting, story-focused tracks (“John Something”, “Snail Zero”), a penchant for uncovering profundity in the mundane, and the occasional laugh-out-loud lyric, this is rap music that will keep you thinking (in the best possible way).
[Picked by: Claire]

The post Our May 2025 Albums of the Month! appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Free folk, drone (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Le Mystère des Voix Bulgares, Natural Snow Buildings, Anna Von Hausswolff, Wardruna (Skald)
Country: Ukraine
Release date: 30 May 2025

One of the most lamentably forgotten arts is giving attention to ‘boring’ things. A certain magic can emerge from focusing on an otherwise unremarkable space that gently invites instead of demands your attention. I recently glimpsed this magic while sitting by a pond with a friend—at first glance, it was a fairly still swath of lily pads accented by longleaf pines in the background. However, after staring into the mud for long enough, the mind becomes acclimated to the space and the pond suddenly bursts with life unseen. Damselflies skitter from pad to pad and myriad groups of frogs croak a call-and-response while the water ripples with activity below, tiny specks of detail that are missed by a cursory glance at the vista. Often, the depths of minimal music are reflected similarly, as the subtle changes in quiet and still pieces suddenly feel intense and stark once one is accustomed to their space. Such is the experience with Гільдеґарда (Hildegard), a collaboration between Ukrainian artists Heinali and Andriana-Yaroslava Saienko which extends the emotions from a split-second reaction to traumatic wartime events into lengthy compositions. What sort of life emerges in their subtle, buzzing mix of drone and free folk?

Comprised of two twenty-minute pieces¹, Гільдеґарда is strikingly skeletal in design: the only instruments used are Heinali’s synthesizers and the vocal work of Saienko. Heinali’s previous work is dedicated to modern recontextualizations of Medieval musical tradition, and Гільдеґарда is no exception. The synthesizers at times possess a flute-like timbre, and intrigue is added to each track through Saienko’s performance of pieces by Hildegard von Bingen, a medieval polymath and composer. Saienko polymerizes the modern-ancient performance through Gregorian chants and Ukrainian musical tradition, often slipping into open voice and adorning the slowly-performed pieces with plentiful ornamentation.

The spartan instrumentals immediately draw attention to Saienko’s performance. Hildegard’s compositions are known for challenging performers through huge interval jumps, but Saienko makes the performance seem effortless as she glides from note to note. She particularly shines when utilizing open voice, adding a stunningly rich and contemplative color to the Gregorian chants through ornamentation. Heinali’s synthesizers lay the groundwork for a meditative state; Saienko’s vocals lift the music to ascension. The core of each piece is the droning keyboards that begin imperceptibly and are rendered inescapable by the end. On “O Ignis Spiritus”, gentle and quiet synthesizers replicate a subdued flute, pulsing in tandem with the rapturous vocal performance. Across the track’s runtime, the synths lose their woodwind sensibility and take on a crunchier feel. By the halfway mark, Saienko’s performance reaches a head with the intensifying thrumming; her sudden howling fades away to an extensive keyboard solo that itself gets swallowed in the inevitable wall of sound. Гільдеґарда’s pieces are monolithic glaciers, growing and evolving at an imperceptible clip, with enough force to scar the surface of the Earth as they move steadfast across the horizon.

“O Tu Suavissima Virga” utilizes a similar structure to “Spiritus” but with an even more understated and subdued approach. The electronics are almost inaudible whirring pulses that stubbornly maintain their stead while approaching an impending crescendo. Saienko’s performance is hushed and diaphanous, taking on a delicate affect for an overwhelming majority of the track. The impact when she finally pushes her voice is powerful, but the journey requires considerable patience as most of the track’s twenty minutes sit in a singular compositional space. Additional stillness is invoked by the piece’s monochromatic nature: the electronics maintain an unwavering hum and the vocals use little to no ornamentation until a full twelve minutes in, and even then, Saienko’s projecting melodicism is ephemeral at best. Her voice, like everything else, is swallowed whole by the synthesizers shortly after. “Virga” pushes the limits of Гільдеґарда’s subtlety, coming together as a powerful whole but spinning its wheels a bit too long in places. The comparatively short collaboration between Heinali and Saienko, “Zelenaia Dubrovonka”, exemplifies that a similarly powerful effect can be incited in a more concise runtime.

Song duration aside, there is a sobering stillness that is engendered by Гільдеґарда. The two pieces were inspired by the split-second reaction to a missile striking nearby Heinali’s studio in Kyiv. In contrast to cacophonous and maximalist music, which has potential to fill the gaps in our minds and bludgeon any sense of inner exploration, the stripped-down and minimal approach of Гільдеґарда is a mirror held up to the listener. Through its ample room for contemplation, “Spiritus” and “Virga” conspire to necessitate a summoning of one’s inner turmoil. Despite my desire for a more compact runtime, extending these pieces is a necessity to give room for safe exploration of the emotional space the record embodies.

Гільдеґарда is a record of few movements and incremental development, all done with great purpose—its minimalism exists for the listener to fill in the negative space themselves and open up their mind for emotional exploration and healing. The record exists not to coddle but to give a gentle-yet-assertive courage to confront stresses head-on through its patient evolution and rich, ascendant vocal performance. Gaze into the mud of Гільдеґарда—you may be surprised what life you’ll find.

Recommended tracks: O Ignis Spiritus
You may also like: CHVE, Pelt, De Mannen Broeders, 58918012, Širom
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

Label: Unsound – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Heinali is:
– Oleh Shpudeiko (keyboards, electronics)
In collaboration with:
– Andriana-Yaroslava Saienko (vocals)

1. Heinali and Saienko penned a third (and considerably shorter) track as part of their collaboration, “Zelenaia Dubrovonka”, but this isn’t considered part of Гільдеґарда. ︎

The post Review: Heinali, Andriana-Yaroslava Saienko – Гільдеґарда (Hildegard) appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

No artist credited

Style: Doom Metal, Progressive Metal (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Ghost Brigade, Sunride, In The Woods…, Lunatic Soul
Country: Finland
Release date: 23 May 2025

One of the best pieces of advice I’ve picked up in my years as a critical assessor for fiction manuscripts¹ is that a work should be reviewed for what it is or tries to be, rather than what you want it to be. For example, when my dad first watched The Mummy (1999), he hated it because he expected a horror film. Once he accepted the movie for what it was trying to be—an action-horror comedy—he ended up enjoying it. This is a philosophy I’ve tried to carry over in my various creative engagements, whether that’s with movies, music, or video games, and one I’d like to think I’ve been fairly successful with in my critiques. However, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have expectations of my own when I saw that former members of Ghost Brigade had formed a new band.

For those unaware, Ghost Brigade were a much-beloved Finnish melodic death/doom band who released four albums between 2009-2014, then promptly went on hiatus before permanently disbanding in 2020. Their third LP, Until Fear No Longer Defines Us, remains my one and only experience with them—a muscular brew of gloomy doom and deliberate melodeath—but it was potent enough that seeing the name “Ghost Brigade” associated with this new venture was sufficient to stoke interest in me. Thus we arrive at Ceresian Valot and their debut Uumen—Finnish for “depths.” Let’s go spelunking, shall we?

Within moments of hearing opener “Ajattomuus / Rajattomuus,” wisps of Until Fear No Longer Defines Us’ doleful menace haunt the grounds on which Ceresian Valot tread, mostly in the mournful extended guitar lines, methodical yet flourishing drumwork, and the atmosphere of thoughtful melancholia that settles over the track like a hazy graveyard mist. As we wind into a soft electronic backbeat and clean vocals (sung entirely in Finnish, across the album), however, Ceresian Valot begin to reveal their layers. Uumen eschews melodeath entirely in favor of a folkier, more ambient approach defined by gentle looping guitars, often sharing space with the light fluttering of electronic percussion. The acoustic drums provide much of the album’s punch, partially due to their placement in the mix, securing the album’s mid-tempo thrum alongside the bigger riffs. Notes of Lunatic Soul texture the synth work (“Taivaankatsoja,” “Uumen”), standing in as a quick vector for the album’s light Gothic haze.

When the guitars take a more central and metallic role (“Pohjavirtauksia,” “Karavaaniseralji,” sections of “Ajattomuus / Rajattomuus”), Uumen shows its teeth, establishing a strong sense of groove and rhythm, practically lassoing one’s neck and forcing it into a lurching bang. The electronic elements also feel the most empowered here, laying themselves out as a velvet drape upon which the guitars can carve out fresh shapes of measured aggression and doleful melodies. Alternatively, cuts like “Uumen” and “Hyoky” present something of a musical dead-end; anemic electro-beats and thin cleans operating as interludes to Uumen’s more impassioned (and lengthy) pieces. Their inclusion might feel more inspired were the album keen to draw on harsher elements. With more aggression flowing in the mix, this would create a palatable necessity for such ambient detours. Stacked against the comparatively lighter—and dronier—touches of Uumen’s chosen aesthetic, however, I’m not entirely sold on their inclusion.

That said, as mentioned, it’s important to try and take things at the value by which they wish to sell themselves. Ceresian Valot are not Ghost Brigade, nor are they particularly interested in being so. Yes, there are notes of that former band lurking around, but I believe this says more about the associated members’ style and internalized approaches than any active effort to resuscitate their previous sonic adventures. Uumen, according to the band, stands as “dynamic and multidimensional with a broad range of sound and vision [including] alternative, rock, progressive, and various genres of metal.” Which brings me to a different issue, connected entirely to Uumen’s ambitions. In book reviewing, I’ve learned that the more “awards” a book touts in its marketing copy, the higher chance the content will be poor. Likewise, I’ve learned to read band promos with a similar level of wariness. Thankfully, Uumen is hardly a bad album—in fact, I’ve found it rather pleasant to listen to, its vibes decidedly relaxing despite (or perhaps because of) their melancholic intentions. I just think the band’s aims have outpaced the album’s reach, is all. Uumen is a doom metal album, feathered with touches of folk and echoes of electronica to help secure its progressive tagging. Pick any of the non-interlude tracks off the album, and you’ll have experienced all the strata of Uumen. Moody, driving riffs; mournful guitar lines; dreamscape electronics; punchy, methodical drums; all wrapped around clean vocals that never really move the needle off of “gentle.”

And you know what? I’m fine with that. Do I wish Uumen were more of what made Until Fear No Longer Defines Us so special to me? Sure, absolutely. I miss the interplay between Ghost Brigade’s deep, melodramatic cleans and monstrous growls. The way the heavy melodeath riffs and thundering kitwork instilled a sense of urgency and danger—and just pure Gothic epicness—to everything. Ceresian Valot seek a more introspective route. And while the decision to root the lyrics in Finnish might harm my ability to read into the accuracy of that approach, I respect that the band wanted to try something different from what (most of) them had created before. Uumen may not be a perfect album—it’s a tad one-dimensional, the vocals are underwhelming, and the programmed bits struggle to justify themselves in meaningful ways—but I can’t sit here and act like I didn’t glean enjoyment from what it wanted to be. What it was: forty-four minutes of chilled-out Gothic doom.

Recommended tracks: Taivaankatsoja, Karavaaniseralji, Valojuovat, Pohjavirtauksia
You may also like: Church of the Sea, Error Theory, Year of the Cobra, Hermyth
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Prophecy Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Ceresian Valot is:
– Ville Angervuori (bass)
– Wille Naukkarinen (guitar, programming)
– Panu Perkiömäki (vocals)
– Veli-Matti Suihkonen (drums, percussion)
– Joni Vanhanen (keyboards, vocals, programming)
– Tapio Vartiainen (guitar)

1.  A fancy way to say “book reviewer” ︎

The post Review: Ceresian Valot – Uumen appeared first on The Progressive Subway.