Style: Black metal, atmospheric black metal, post-black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Emperor, The Black Dahlia Murder, Carach Angren
Country: Washington, United States
Release date: 18 July 2025

This year has seen no shortage of post-black metal releases. So many, in fact, that I’m overwhelmed with pings from Andy to check out this or that release in one of my favorite genres. I can’t keep up. But, as I let my Release Radar play the other day at my real job¹, a vaguely post-black track piqued my interest. I opened my Spotify window to see a track called “No Less Than Death” by… Abigail Williams? Damn. Truth be told, they are a band that fell off my radar ages ago for whatever reason. I remember them having a vaguely symphonic black metal sound—with a metalcore oomph. What I was listening to at that moment, however, reminded me of Numenorean more than anything: moody, resonant, and full of rich vocal harmonies before the raspy black metal vocals took hold. Strange to open up a review of an album by talking about the closer, but it’s how I was introduced to A Void Within Existence. Would the rest of the LP sink its teeth into me in a similar fashion?

To find out, I hit rewind. The first thing to grab my attention as A Void Within Existence opened was the bass work of John Porada. “Life, Disconnected” starts the LP off with a slow, dissonant crawl in which the bass is almost front-and-center. I love a black metal album where you not only feel the bass, but hear it audibly in the mix as well. “Nonexistence” commences in similar fashion, but opting for sadness over angry dissonance. The track wanders through a murky melancholy, and ends with a guitar solo full of breathing bends that twist your insides in David Gilmour fashion. My only gripe here is that it ends too soon, leaving you wanting more. But honestly, that might be my only real complaint about any of these songs: I just want more. And when a seven, eight, or nine minute track ends and feels like it flew by in half the time, is that even a complaint? Or just a sign something special is happening?

Though many tracks are emotive—and boy howdy, take your pick among despair, grief, wonder, or almost any other plaintive feeling—the beating heart within this …Existence is a tech-laden strain of black metal that is as varied as it is heavy. Much of that impact is owed to the drumwork of Mike Heller. You may know him from his contributions to about a million different projects and bands, including Fear Factory and Malignancy, but most notably for a handful of us at the Subway from his recent work in Changeling. He is credited here as a session musician, which makes me pity the poor soul that Abigail Williams find to play these blistering, hyper-technical drum parts on tour. “Void Within,” a furious and scraping black metal odyssey, showcases Heller’s prowess. His brute intensity and technical precision are cranked to eleven throughout the track. Lightning-fast double-bass, relentless blast beats, varied use of every cymbal at his disposal, and a flurry of whimsical fills on all of the toms come together in a performance that is both dazzling and tasteful—never showy for its own sake, but always exactly what the song demands (and then some).

A Void Within Existence would be a strong black metal release even if it were made up solely of songs like the aforementioned “Void Within,” or another glass-eating black metal track like “Still Nights.” But the veteran musicians that currently comprise Abigail Williams turn …Existence into something much more ambitious. You’ll know exactly what I mean when you listen to the whole of “Talk To Your Sleep,” which starts with the stankiest of down-tuned riffs. If I ever get a job hammering railroad spikes, this is the track I’m listening to for my rhythm and pace. What takes “Talk To Your Sleep” to another level, though, is the melodic bridge it eases into halfway through its runtime. It’s one of those elevating moments on A Void Within Existence that confirms you’re listening to songwriting that’s as emotionally intelligent as it is heavy.

From the fleeting strings and drifting keys that haunt its margins, to the earthquaking heaviness at its core, that emotional intelligence is woven into the compositional choices that comprise A Void Within Existence. Abigail Williams don’t simply stack riffs or pile on atmosphere for the hell of it. Rather, a keen sense of pacing and a dollop of emotive contrast provide the hooks that have kept me spinning this album repeatedly. Just when you think you’ve mapped the territory, the ground shifts beneath you—come for the nihility, stay for the empathy.

Take “Embrace the Chasm,” for instance. The song opens with a familiar black metal snarl—solid stuff, I think to myself. But almost on cue, as if Ken Sorceron (the everpresent frontman of Abbie Dubs) had heard my thoughts, the track pivots. Suddenly, gloomy arpeggios drift in, shadowed by echoing piano, pulling the song into a more introspective space. “We’re not aiming for ‘solid,’ here,” he seems to say—and the song isn’t done shapeshifting yet. In its final third, the track unfurls into something strangely serene, and almost hopeful. The melodies lift upward, carrying you into something both heavy and soothing. A black metal lullaby, drifting towards peace. In that shift from fury to beauty I feel the nuance that has kept me tethered to this genre: a rage giving way to release.

If you told me that Abigail Williams were going to drop one of my favorite releases of the year (and the cover art is taking my top spot in that regard), I would have been surprised. Not because I ever held any dislike for the band, but because I hadn’t thought about them in so long. They’d quietly drifted out of rotation. But A Void Within Existence has pulled me right back in. The album is moody, technical, surprising, and—like my favorite extreme metal releases—bridges brutality with beauty in a way all its own. Consider this my belated apology for ever letting them slip off my radar, and a nudge to make sure they don’t fall off yours.

Recommended tracks: No Less Than Death, Embrace the Chasm, Talk to Your Sleep, Void Within
You may also like: Valdrin, Illyria, …And Oceans
Final verdict: 8.5/10

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

Label: Agonia Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Abigail Williams is:
– John Porada (bass)
– Ken Sorceron (vocals, guitars)
– Vance Valenzuela (guitars)
With guests:
– Mike Heller (drums)

1. This will probably come as a shock to our readers, but working solely at The Progressive Subway wouldn’t pay the bills. Or even a bill. ︎

The post Review: Abigail Williams – A Void Within Existence 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: Post-black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: The Great Old Ones, Oranssi Pazuzu, Blut Aus Nord
Country: France
Release date: 14 February 2025

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Label: Agonia Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

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

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

Style: Black metal, progressive metal, spaaaaace (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Enslaved, A Forest of Stars, Midnight Odyssey
Country: Greece
Release date: 28 June 2024

Out of all major metal subgenres, the combination of progressive metal with black metal has strangely enough yet to see much commercial success within the limited realm of prog fans. This is not for a lack of innovative artists, mind you—black metal has been at the forefront of metal innovation for years—yet somehow, the two subgenres have by and large remained culturally separate entities, with even the most major acts like Enslaved and Ihsahn struggling to enter the cultural prog metal pantheon in the same way major acts of other prog + extreme metal subgenres like The Ocean or Ne Obliviscaris seem to have no trouble with. Hailing from Greece, Hail Spirit Noir is another entry pushing a mixture of black metal and prog into creative directions, gaining notoriety for their incorporation of lighthearted psychedelic/space rock, but with their new album Fossil Gardens they’re pushing for blacker pastures—do they succeed?

In true psychedelic fashion, the experience is wonderfully immersive. Opener “Starfront Promenade” sucks you in with space ambient and the warm, slightly reverb-laden singing of Theoharis before it morphs smoothly into the epic space black metal sound that will define much of the album as both layers cosmic ambience and wiuwiu synth melodies contort around blast beats and icy tremolos. Theoharis’s ghastly harsh vocals are a natural fit, filling the soundscape out amazingly, but sadly the mastering on the drums and the guitars is a tad overpowering so he’s more in the background than I’d like, and when he starts singing during the black metal parts he becomes a bit of a footnote. Besides the vocals though, the production is cozy, spacious, and completely enveloping as it gives space to every layer of the atmosphere to breathe in.¹Out of all major metal subgenres, the combination of progressive metal with black metal has strangely enough yet to see much commercial success within the limited realm of prog fans. This is not for a lack of innovative artists, mind you—black metal has been at the forefront of metal innovation for years—yet somehow, the two subgenres have by and large remained culturally separate entities, with even the most major acts like Enslaved and Ihsahn struggling to enter the cultural prog metal pantheon in the same way major acts of other prog + extreme metal subgenres like The Ocean or Ne Obliviscaris seem to have no trouble with. Hailing from Greece, Hail Spirit Noir is another entry pushing a mixture of black metal and prog into creative directions, gaining notoriety for their incorporation of lighthearted psychedelic/space rock, but with their new album Fossil Gardens they’re pushing for blacker pastures—do they succeed?

In true psychedelic fashion, the experience is wonderfully immersive. Opener “Starfront Promenade” sucks you in with space ambient and the warm, slightly reverb-laden singing of Theoharis before it morphs smoothly into the epic space black metal sound that will define much of the album as both layers cosmic ambience and wiuwiu synth melodies contort around blast beats and icy tremolos. Theoharis’s ghastly harsh vocals are a natural fit, filling the soundscape out amazingly, but sadly the mastering on the drums and the guitars is a tad overpowering so he’s more in the background than I’d like, and when he starts singing during the black metal parts he becomes a bit of a footnote. Besides the vocals though, the production is cozy, spacious, and completely enveloping as it gives space to every layer of the atmosphere to breathe in.

But simply blast beating well does not a good black metal album maketh; fortunately, Hail Spirit Noir do have some tricks up their sleeve. “Curse you, Entropia” is built around a proggy, sprawling midtempo riff whose 6/4 rhythmic cadence is always maintained in one way or another as the rest of the song modulates around it. Drummer Foivos Chatzis also often spices things up with his thunderous, tom-laden fills, pounding rhythms that remind me of later Enslaved, and interesting accentuations, something which central epic “The Road to Awe” shows especially well. Furthermore, “Ludwig in Orbit” is an interesting a cappella interlude with a church organ that leads nicely into the title track closer which does the most with its atmosphere of all the tracks by shooting the wiuwiu synths like falling stars and adding some more electronic touches.

This however, does not prevent Fossil Gardens from homogeneity. For all its experimentation, the mental image of psychedelic cosmic synths over epic tremolos and blast beats remains dominant throughout. I appreciate the attempt at a more black metal-driven sound, but when most of it feels like your average second wave worship, my interest starts to wane (looking at you, “The Blue Dot”). This is also where the mixing choices really comes to bite as the clean vocals could have provided some much needed variety that now got lost whenever performed next to the metal parts, something which epic “The Road to Awe” really could have benefitted from as it sadly blends together with the rest of the album despite its more pronounced ebb and flow structure. Only the climax with its aggressive, almost thrashy riff and melodic guitar solo at the end (more of those please) serves to distinguish the track, but it’s too little too late.

I was fairly excited for Fossil Genera Gardens when I saw its release announced, hoping to be able to further my quest of convincing the community of progressive black metal’s greatness and creativity, but while the incorporation of space ambient is fairly innovative within prog, for black metal it is quite standard, which extends to the quality of the black metal itself. Some great moments remain and the experience never goes below simply pleasant, but by and large I would rather advise you to try one of their older albums or to get into Enslaved instead.

1. which is a shame because his lines are good ︎

Recommended tracks: Starfront Promenade; Curse you, Entropia; Fossil Gardens
You may also like: Ars Moriendi, Dordeduh, The Lost Sun
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Agonia Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Hail Spirit Noir is:
– Theoharis (vocals, guitars)
– Haris (keyboards)
– Demian (bass)
– Foivos Chatzis (drums)

The post Review: Hail Spirit Noir – Fossil Gardens appeared first on The Progressive Subway.