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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Style: dissonant black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Deathspell Omega, Blut Aus Nord, Mgła¹, Misþyrming, Behemoth
Country: Poland
Release date: 27 June 2025

Polish art would have you believe the country is the most depressing place on Earth. Sculptor Alina Szapocznikow documented human suffering, fragmenting the female form and criticizing labor practices and war; filmmaker Artur Zmijewski looks into the traumatic past of his nation; and every metal fan is well-acquainted with the dystopian surrealist painters Zdzislaw Beksinski and Mariusz Lewandowski. Naturally, the nihilism of visual art has wormed its way deep into the heart of Polish metal with the country’s distinct black metal scene leading the charge, with notable artists like Mgła, Behemoth, and Batushka. Digging a little deeper into the scene’s catacombs, one will find K.M.’s dissonant black metal project Ars Magna Umbrae, full of existential dread yet fraying at the seams with the slightest twinkle of melody.

K.M. joins forces with vocalist E (Cultum Inferitum) to form a new band Thanatorean. Their debut record Ekstasis of Subterranean Curren picks up the writhing dissonance from K.M.’s main project, certainly, and at first glance is another inimically opaque record, styled after diabolical black metal icons, like Mgła and Deathspell Omega. On the surface, Ekstasisof Subterranean Currents seems like another solid entry into the canon of Polish black metal, and that’s that, end of story. And one wouldn’t be wrong for reading the record that way. The record opens on “The Descent” with creepy ambience suddenly racing into second-wave black metal riffery, swirling tremolos peaking their way above the seedy underbelly of the mix. E lets out well-enunciated beastly growls and gralloching highs across the record, cutting through the filthy, deathened black metal. Stormy bouts of chaotic noise overwhelm the senses at times like at the end of “With Tongues of the Underworld” and “Tranquil Trueness of End.” And throughout Ekstasis of Subterranean Currents, riffs contort unexpectedly to create a haunting atmosphere, permeated with dissonance. That’s the Polish black metal experience.

Thanatorean are more than meets the ear, however, and Ekstasis of Subterranean Currents is—dare I say—a fun record at heart. As opposed to the grim philosophy and anti-religious sentiments of the other bands mentioned, Ekstasis of Subterranean Currents plays around with death cults in their lyrics, utilizing dramatic vocabulary, camp rhyme schemes, and occasional dramatic spoken word (the final four stanzas of “To Abyss Sacrosanct” each open with an infinitive verb spoken before three short lines of E’s beastly harsh vocals. It’s incredibly sick, and Thanatorean don’t overuse the songwriting device). The attempt at high-brow lyricism is (perhaps unintentionally) funny as hell in a good way, the duo not taking themselves too seriously.

More importantly, the music is a rowdily great time. K.M. demonstrates his fealty to the riff as second-wave black metal and evolved dissonance collide—Thanatorean are at their most interesting and engaging when they experiment on the Ars Magna Umbrae side of the sound more than the traditional one. The angsty black metal musicians often still have excellent riffing, but Thanatorean separate themselves from their Polish kin with their occasional flashes of swagger. “The Descent” has a ripping guitar solo; every track has endlessly mutating and intricate guitar parts with silvering leads; and “De Profundis” and “To Abyss Sacrosanct” open with abhorrently tasty bass licks. In opposition to the complexity of the guitar lines, the songwriting on Ekstasis of Subterranean Currents is tame, with little variation in track-length or tempo among the nine short tracks. A few tracks also conclude with fadeouts, frustrating for the quality of progressive song evolutions K.M. has proven to be capable of with Ars Magna Umbrae. 

I’m pleasantly surprised at how Ekstasis of Subterranean Currents defied my expectations for it. K.M.’s mastery of warped atmospheres and E’s filthy vocals go together perfectly, blending to make Ekstasis of Subterranean Currents a record sonically evil but tonally more of a headbanger than a brooder-in-the-corner. Thanatorean’s debut is a solid proof of concept and a breath of fresh air for the Polish scene—I just hope they lean into a bit more weirdness going forward.

Recommended tracks: The Descent, De Profundis, To Abyss Sacrosanct
You may also like: Ars Magna Umbrae, Fryktelig Støy, Haar, Spectral Voice, Zhrine, Thy Darkened Shade, Kriegsmaschine, Negative Plane, Mānbryne
Final verdict: 7/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Metal-Archives

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

Thanatorean is:
– K.M. (everything)
– E (vocals)

1. We are aware of DSO and Mgła‘s sketchy ties and do NOT support these bands and are merely using them as a sonic reference. ︎

The post Review: Thanatorean – Ekstasis of Subterranean Currents appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Dissonant black metal, avant-garde metal (Mixed vocals, mostly harsh)
Recommended for fans of: Rotting Christ, Behemoth
Country: Cyprus
Release date: 5 April 2025

Many black metal bands tout an ‘evil’ and ‘satanic’ aesthetic; among the grim and frostbitten band photos, becoming a Progeny of the Great Apocalypse, and embodying a trve kvlt lifestyle, imagery of hellish landscapes should be par for the course for the genre. After all, what hotter place is there to hang out for a black-metalhead than The Devil’s Condo? Well, on closer inspection, one finds that black metal is often missing that je ne Satan quoi, choosing to focus on evil acts instead of embodying the nature of the underworld. And that’s to say nothing of the myriad hippie black metal bands who write about nature and skirt the subject entirely.¹ That’s where today’s topic of discussion, Frozen Winds, come in: on latest record, Keys to Eschaton, the Cypriots aim to create a truly hellish experience, getting to the heart of all things twisted and incomprehensible. Does Keys to Eschaton open the gates of Hades to the listener, or is there a better chance of getting in when Hell freezes over?

Frozen Winds incorporate melodics and variety into their black metal base through adjacent styles, including heavy metal (“Theosphoros”), thrash metal (“Crown”), and doom metal (“Jesters of Desolation”). Additionally, a bevy of vocal techniques are used across Keys to Eschaton, from guttural bellows and throaty shrieks to clean verses and even throat singing. Tracks follow virtually no resemblance of a verse-chorus structure, instead exploring ideas in a free-flowing framework designed to transition between ideas from moment to moment. What ties this approach together is the unwelcoming and occasionally nightmarish atmosphere that pervades the record: unsettling soundscapes, manic vocal delivery, and dissonant riffs appear on nearly every track.

All of these elements coalesce in an experience that sounds as if it were actually manufactured in Hell. Frozen Winds invoke black metal’s Hadean sensibilities by searing them into every moment of Keys to Eschaton—the listener is unceremoniously sentenced to wander a vast oblivion, some places hopelessly expansive and others claustrophobic and cavernous. Ominous, incoherent whispers on opener “Theosphoros”, shrieking laughter and punctuated, dissonant guitar stabs on “Spirit of the Womb”, and foreboding throat singing on “Jesters of Desolation” and “Epiclesis to Amenti” work to remind the listener that the world they are exploring is designed for creatures wholly unlike them. The effect isn’t overwhelming, but it’s enough to elicit a surreal and existential discomfort along with a morbid curiosity that urges onward the exploration of its twisted crags.

While Keys to Eschaton‘s pieces are undoubtedly challenging and hostile, Frozen Winds are endowed with a compositional understanding that makes these extended stream-of-consciousness pieces flow with ease. Between variation in style and clever use of dynamics, the flow of these tracks tempers the hellacious experience and prevents it from teetering into frustration. “From the Caverns”, for example, begins with black metal riffage and overlaid clean vocals before transitioning into punctuated heavy metal, bouncing back and forth between these styles until the ground collapses underneath to a sparse bass line; hushed whispers join in, adorned by acoustic guitar. A standalone shriek pierces through the contemplative moment, mercilessly yanking the listener back into ferocious tremolos and blasting drums in one of Keys to Eschaton‘s most powerful and compelling moments.

Exemplary songwriting can only go so far without a solid backbone in instrumentation, however. Each track manages to have at least one moment of intrigue, whether it be the explosive interplay between staccato riffing and expansive tremolos on “Jesters of Desolation”, the soaring and deliciously melodic solo on “Io Agia Pantokratora”, or the idiosyncratic rhythmic stylings of “Crown”, which sound as if Tool were headlining a festival in the seventh circle of Hell. Unfortunately, Keys to Eschaton‘s instrumentation fails to transcend ‘decent’ most of the time, as its best moments come from dynamic compositional techniques and not from the riffs themselves. This means that individual moments of tracks like “Spirit of the Womb” and “Theosphoros” come across as relatively anonymous, serving more to contrast dynamics and style than to draw in the listener or create a point of intrigue. The comparative dearth of powerful riffs reduces any overall enjoyment of Keys to Eschaton from an exciting visceral reaction deserving of its vivid imagery to ‘this is a cool way to combine these ideas and form a piece’, preventing its expert composition from elevating into something beyond analytical interest.

Were every riff as compelling as those on “Jesters of Desolation” or “From the Caverns”, Keys to Eschaton would unquestionably sit as a landmark of dissonant black metal. Unfortunately, this is just not the case, as the main facet holding back Frozen Winds is a sense of underwhelm in their riff construction, attenuating the potentially massive impact of their diverse songwriting style. Don’t let this stop you from indulging in their hellscapes, though: little can hide the fact that Keys to Eschaton is put together magnificently, imparting harrowing compositions with a smooth flow that adds a shocking degree of listenability to its infernal aesthetic.

Recommended tracks: Jesters of Desolation, Crown, From the Caverns
You may also like: Thy Darkened Shade, Aenaon
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Visceral Promotions – Facebook | Official Website

Frozen Winds is:
– AdΩnis (vocals, guitars)
– Panagiotis (drums)
– Sophia (vocals)
– Stelios (bass)

1. I make this joke because I am, in fact, one of those hippie black-metalheads. ︎

The post Review: Frozen Winds – Keys to Eschaton appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Label: Avantgarde Music – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

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

Ruben Schmidt – Cello
Alberto Pérez Jurado – Tuba, Trombone

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

Style: dissonant death metal, black metal, electronica (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Ulcerate, Gorguts, Morbid Angel, Gojira
Country: Arizona, United States
Release date: 28 February 2025

In my mind, the main feature (other than quality) that separates one dissonant death metal release from another is headiness. Some bands like Replicant are content to stay low to the earth, punishing any who come near with raw brutality, while others leave their earthly constraints and instead push dissodeath towards the cerebral; see Pyrrhon and Scarcity. In the middle, you get bands like Ulcerate and Convulsing that infuse elements from across the spectrum into their sound to create music equally confounding as it is crushing, and this alluring middle ground is where Light Dweller’s The Subjugate falls.

Stylistically, Light Dweller employs a shade of dissonant death metal on The Subjugate most similar to that of Convulsing’s masterful Perdurance from last year. Uniquely contrapuntal riffs weave in and upon themselves as the interminable drumming blasts away atop a bed of cacophonous atmospherics, but—like all the dissodeath I love—the album maintains a devotion to the mighty riff. From the harmonious guitar work of the opening track that sounds as though entirely different songs are playing from the left and right channels, to the tasteful ebb and flow of the breakdowns on songs like “Cessation of Time” and the Tool-like percussive riffage on tracks like “Fracturing Light” and “Passing Through the Veil,” there’s no shortage of unique and creative riffs on The Subjugate. In general, the riffs here feel more groove oriented, as if Morbid Angel’s sound never stopped evolving, and when Alex Haddad (Dessiderium, Arkaik) lends the album his tasteful lead work, the songs take on an even more technical edge. Even as the tracks venture into the realms of electronica with synthesized drum beats, haunting flute, and brainy synths, there’s always a killer riff waiting in the wings to bring it all back home to a familiar death metal base.

The balance between The Subjugate’s degenerate and cerebral qualities is what allows the album to truly shine. In fact, The Subjugate achieves an emulsification of metal subgenres here more successfully than any death metal act in recent memory, and I find my attention only broken by the unfortunately common additions of electronic drumming. There are certainly gaps in my electronic knowledge that keep me from fully contextualizing the ideas the album puts forth, but the manner in which the electronic drums never seemed to settle into a steady beat made each moment they appeared feel somewhat meandering, as if lacking a goal to push towards. There are a few moments like the spliced buildup of the intro of “Fracturing Light” that push the album towards a more cogent fusion of death metal and electronica, but these moments don’t outshine my distaste for the electronic drums as a whole.

Blessedly, the somewhat poor integration of the electronic elements into The Subjugate’s sound allows me to look past them and simply enjoy the dissodeath that the album has on offer, and it is really stellar stuff. I constantly find myself headbanging to every track, and by the time this rather lean album finishes up, I instantly feel the urge to spin it again, chasing those giddy glimpses into the album’s unfathomable riffage. As a fellow acolyte of the mighty riff, it truly warms my heart to see a band taking the riff heritage of bands like MorbidAngel—or Gojira for a more modern reference—and pushing it into the future. One inverted power chord and pick scrape at a time, Light Dweller, along with bands like Convulsing, Replicant, and Wormhole, are pushing metal riffing into the future, and there’s no telling where they may end up. Thankfully, we have The Subjugate as a stepping stone to help us along the way.

Recommended tracks: Adrift the Expanding Nothingness, Fracturing Light, Cessation of Time
You may also like: Convulsing, Warforged, Replicant, Sacrificial Vein, Luminous Vault, Artificial Brain
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

Label: Unorthodox Emanations of Avantgarde Music – Bandcamp | Facebook

Light Dweller is:
– Cameron Boesch (everything)

The post Review: Light Dweller – The Subjugate appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

No artist credited

Style: Black Metal, Dissonant Black Metal, Progressive Metal (Harsh vocals with cleans on the last track)
Recommended for fans of: Krallice, Thantifaxath, Celeste
Country: New York, United States
Release date: 15 October 2013

The early 2010s were a volatile and explosive time for black metal, full of experimentation and change. A decade earlier, bands like Blut Aus Nord, Abigor, and Dødheimsgard were planting the seeds of an uglier, more abrasive twist on the genre; not long after that, Deathspell Omega would blow the scene wide open with their infamous trilogy. Since then, countless groups have tried their hands at the style of dissonant black metal laid down by these titans of the genre to wildly varying success. Many bands have come and gone, lost to the wind, with Castevet counted among them—though not for lack of quality. 

Castevet were a modest three-piece outfit consisting of Andrew Hock on guitar and vocal duty, Ian Jacyszyn on the drums, as well as sharing Krallice member Nicholas McMaster on bass. The style of music played by these three certainly follows in the footsteps of the aforementioned titans but takes a subtler approach to the oddities and complexities that are so prevalent in the genre. Krallice is, fittingly, the main point of reference to be heard on Obsian, though with a shimmering, prettier take on their sound, even dabbling in softer ambient pieces like on the title track. Obsian is an album full of technical marvel wrapped up in a vague, melancholic atmosphere; an ever-unfurling organism that refuses to be fully defined.

“The Tower” introduces the primary style found on Obsian: harmonically and rhythmically dense black metal. Instantly recognizable and distinctly memorable is the psychedelic fuzz of the bass tone of McMaster, who spends nearly as much time providing countermelody and even lead melody as he does laying down a foundational groove. The production—courtesy of other Krallice mainstay Colin Marston—is warm and just hazy enough for the instruments to shine while also providing context for the atmosphere created by their performances. Herein lies one piece of the puzzle that makes the sound on Obsian so unique: the performances create just as much of the atmosphere as the production job does. From the jarring chords at 2:20 in “Cavernous” that seem to spill out of the aether, to the assertive bass line that drops down to the tonic during the intro/chorus riff on “The Curve,” Castevet make full use of the context provided to them through the stellar production job. 

As Obsian continues, it patiently reveals more of its unique strengths, most notably an acumen for intricate songwriting. Castevet are less overtly dissonant than their peers, instead choosing to utilize smart composition and performance techniques to achieve the same effect. The guitar and bass will often play similar arpeggios that are just slightly off from one another, giving an organic off-kilter feel. Unique chord voicings and smart chord inversions are littered throughout Obsian’s runtime that, when paired with its stilted rhythms, give the experience a sense of constantly folding in on itself—like an auditory set of penrose steps. More specifically, Castevet have a knack for finding strong melodic lines and recontextualizing them through harmonic interplay, giving the listener an opportunity to approach the same sections of songs from different angles during repeat listens; look no further than opening track “The Tower” or the back half of “The Curve” for examples of this.

Another piece of Obsian’s puzzle is its bold rhythmic flair, especially when coupled with some of the more idiosyncratic instrumentation choices and drum kit orchestration. Castevet weave in and out of time signatures, extend and cut phrases short, and play with subdivisions, always in a way that is still conducive to just sitting back and instinctively nodding your head. “As Fathomed By Beggars and Victims” is perhaps the best example of this rhythmic quirk: a pervasive 9 against 4 polyrhythm being played on the hi-hat gives the song an unsteady gait, and even the foundational groove shifts depending on how you listen to it, with 3/4 and 4/4 time each being equally valid ways of counting. When put together, the result is a sonic illusion that is not unlike a desert mirage, shifting from afar but coming into clarity when given more attention. This same song is also a good example of Jacyszyn’s clever kit orchestration. The drums drive the song forward, giving the relatively stationary guitar performance much more bite than it would have on its own. Jacyszyn is able to fill in droughts of movement from the rest of the band with precisely tuned toms and flowing fills, and the drum performance can largely be listened to as melodically as the guitars. 

What really ties everything together for Obsian, though, are the subtle details that Castevet incorporates into every aspect of the experience. Acoustic guitars accentuate riffs at opportune times (“Cavernous”) that, while not quite folky, make the performance feel more human and easier to attach to emotionally. Castevet knows when to vamp on a good idea (ending of “The Curve”) but always have some sort of subtle variation to keep it interesting, allowing the atmosphere to consume the listener while keeping the music engaging. Phrases often start with familiar riff structures and harmonic voicings, only to devolve into swirling, gestural approximations of these forms in the second half of the same phrase. A question is being posed: what exactly are the most important aspects of these beloved techniques and tropes? What makes them tick? Castevet probes for answers with a delicate touch, achieving and even exceeding the same standard set by classics of the genre, doing more with less.

Just when you think that Castevet have shown all they have to offer, they pull one final trick out of their sleeve with “The Seat of Severance”, starting with one of the most straightforward riffs yet and marking the only time that clean vocals make an appearance. The choice to forgo harsh vocals completely is a brave one in music as harmonically vague as this, and proves that the music on Obsian is not reliant on familiar textures and cliches; instead, rock solid composition is what carries the sound and makes it a standout experience. While Obsian is certainly dense and full of anxiety, it is not quite as dreary or oppressive as its peers, merely introspective. The run time is short, inviting necessary repeat listens while also justifying its experimentation and occasional ambiance. My single critique of Obsian is that I wish there were two or three more songs to flesh out the experience, though this is just because I can’t get enough of the sound crafted on this forgotten relic. As it stands, the listener is left with the same feeling of finishing an exceptional book or television series, where you sit there in silence for ten minutes thinking… What now?

Well… you hit play again.

Recommended tracks: The Tower, The Curve, As Fathomed by Beggars and Victims
You may also like: Scarcity, Flourishing, Yellow Eyes

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Metal-Archives page

Label: Profound Lore Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Castevet is:
– Andrew Hock (guitars, vocals)
– Ian Jacyszyn (drums)
– Nicholas McMaster (bass)

The post Lost in Time: Castevet – Obsian appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: experimental black metal, dissonant black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Infant Annihilator, Frontierer
Country: ?
Release date: 25 January 2025

This is it, everybody: my last review. It was fun while it lasted, but as soon as Sam reads this I will be fired¹. He started this blog to review, like, power/prog and crap, and here I am covering stuff from a goregrind label. Not only that, but I need to get into the nitty gritty of some unsavory theology. With that said, I’m sorry, Sam, for taking over the rudder of this ship and steering us aground into an area of extreme metal I know you’d rather believe does not exist.

My peers made enough fun of me for my “car alarm metal” Scarcity last year, so I dread to think what they’ll have to say about Christian Necromancy’s microtonal, off-time ten-stringed lyre fed through enough distortion and amplification to be able to pick scrape (“The Leistae”). What you can hear of the lyre over the obnoxiously loud drums switches channels at slanted times in shrieking disagreement. Not once do the channels sync up, nor do the drums relent their hailstorm: this is thirty-four minutes in the meat-grinder—you’d better be comfy with noisy dissonance. On Bandcamp, Christian Necromancy also asserts that there is a fretless bass on The Pederast, but it’s wholly lost in the mix. But despite being completely obnoxious, out of time, and out of tune, The Pederast is occasionally compelling musically to me for reasons I don’t quite understand myself. Perhaps I am a masochist or maybe I like seeing how far metal can be pushed—I mean, the idea of a distorted ten-stringed lyre is cool. Sam would tell me I’ve simply lost the plot, that my mind is too far gone. I think The Pederast is musical pornography, obscene but strangely addictive².

Christian Necromancy are (wanna-be) theologists, however, and the music is merely an oracle for them to spread their gospel. With in-depth analysis of Greek source texts including medical journals, the Septuagint, and other documents, The Pederast’s lyrics tell a classic tale in metal… sex abuse of minors in the Church… wait, what? Christian Necromancy and their scripture are alleging that Jesus Christ himself was a pederast with what they say is pure historical fact. The lyrics are upsetting, but even with claims that they use direct sources, they read as pure conspiracy theory—I say that as someone who dislikes religion. For instance, Christian Necromancy are certain that Mark 14:51-52³ are the only two verses you need to destroy the faith, but they’re just not very damning, even less so in the original Greek context from my research (I am no theological slouch, believe it or not).

The Pederast does have some undeniably banger lyrics, at least. For instance, “BEHOLD THE PENIS CHRIST” goes unreasonably hard. But actual thesis claims are harder to believe, especially since I cannot find a single primary source OR secondary source about them. I cannot find information that mystery cults venerated Christ precisely because he was proficient at trafficking child slaves (“The Leistae”). Similarly, the entire premise of “Ejaculated Antichrist” revolves around sexual drug rituals that I just cannot find any proof of existing. Similarly, who else besides Christian Necromancy has forwarded the claim that JC holds up two fingers in Christian iconography as a way to symbolize that he was ready to insert drugs into the anuses of children? Please feel free to send over your sources, Christian Necromancy, but The Pederast reads as conspiracy, grasping at straws. 

By reviewing The Pederast as I am, I’m putting myself in serious danger since Christian Necromancy claim on Bandcamp: “LET ANYONE INTERFERING WITH THE TRANSMISSION OF THIS INFORMATION BE PUNISHABLE BY A VIOLENT DEATH.” Wait, I’m undeniably aiding in transmission if anything. But it has to be said… if Christian Necromancy’s message is so urgent, why release it in such an abstruse style of black metal. Shouldn’t they perform something a bit more, y’know, marketable to spread their philosophy? I understand this is a more authentic artistic vision, but they are the ones interfering with the transmission of their information by making it impossible to listen to. 

I attempted to engage with both the music and philosophy of Christian Necromancy, and both are equally over-the-top absurd. The Pederast is a comical album despite the horrifying nature of its lyrics. Something drew me to it initially, though, and I’m intrigued by how the project will develop. With my score for this, maybe I’m safe from being fired since at least the blog will keep its prog credibility. Phew.

Recommended tracks: Let the Children Come
You may also like: Effluence, Theophonos, Jute Gyte, Scarcity, Botanist, Ὁπλίτης
Final verdict: 3/10

Related links: Bandcamp

Label: Putrefactive Recordings – Bandcamp | Official Website

Christian Necromancy is:
– ?

1.  Or worse, my mom will read it on the blog and I’ll be excommunicated from my own family. ︎
2. Ummm please ignore that diction once you get into the next couple paragraphs… ︎
3.  “A certain young man was following him, wearing nothing but a linen cloth. They caught hold of him, but he left the linen cloth and ran off naked.” ︎

The post Review: Christian Necromancy – The Pederast appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: avant-garde black metal, totalism, dissonant black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Glenn Branca, Imperial Triumphant, The Dillinger Escape Plan
Country: United States-NY
Release date: 12 July 2024

Earlier this month, I made the trek out to Death Valley: it was 130° (54° for Celsius users). Standing in the middle of a massive desert bowl surrounded on all sides by craggy peaks and the air itself practically on fire was an awesome display of powers outside of human control—the dearth of water, glut of sunlight, paucity of humanity. Yet unlike my previous pilgrimage to Death Valley, I did not go to face the wrath of the Earth but to look heavenward. Designated one of seven gold-tier Dark Sky Parks in the United States by the International Dark-Sky Association, Death Valley offers a view of the galaxy I’d never seen as a city kid, and this month I saw the Milky Way for the first time, more stars than I’d seen in my life combined unfurled as a glowing band of light illuminating the moonless sky. 

Forceful vocalist and lyricist Doug Moore (Pyrrhon) was similarly inspired by a trip to the deserts of southern Utah in the poetics underpinning The Promise of Rain. Survival requires adaptation and transformation; the desert demands abnegation. Through catarrhic wails, monstrous growls, and emotional barks, Moore spits his arid poetry with sincerity. Among the harrowing lines throughout, opener “In the Basin of Alkaline Grief” concludes with two short stanzas: “Here, in the basin of alkaline grief / Loom the wounds in your soul, arrayed / Beneath the heavens’ desiccant gaze / I will make this waste our home / Beloved, you will never be alone.” Scarcity and Moore find grace in the desert and its searing power through the grief and fear of loss and abstinence. It’s a stunning progression from Moore’s grappling with death during covid on Aveilut, a focus on what comes after.

As a band, Scarcity have continued to evolve, transitioning from the work of mastermind and composer Brendon Randall-Myers and Moore to a full five-piece band. With Tristan Kasten-Krause (Sigur Ros, Steve Reich) on bass, Dylan Dilella (Pyrrhon) on guitar and Lev Weinstein (Krallice) behind the kit, the band have experienced an ignigenic rebirth through desert and through a new togetherness. While I miss the orchestral buildups of seemingly hundreds of microtonal guitars in a single cohesive piece from Aveilut, the new band opt to capture the energy of a live performance, to wield the power of five people in a room, and their force is virulent and unquestionable like Imperial Triumphant’s Live at the Slipper Room or John Coltrane’s Ascension. Reportedly captured in one or two takes, the fraught energy of The Promise of Rain is horrifying and raw, a dizzying heatstroke like on Kostnatěni’s Úpal. Scarcity create noise that breathes on its own with screaming microtonal guitars, absolutely pummeling bass, and drums which presage an imminent flash flood with their meteoric intensity. 

Still endowed with sweeping range, the compositions on The Promise of Rain lack some of the ingenious climaxes of Aveilut due to their shorter nature, yet Scarcity still play with the same overwhelming precision and flow in the tighter forms. A Totalist ensemble to their core—Randall Myers’ Glenn Branca influence shines brightly—the group fight their way through offbeat, microtonal songwriting, only rarely veering into more recognizably “metal” riffs such as at 2:45 in “Scorched Vision” or the thumping, heart-stopping power of the drums and bass at 4:00 into “Venom & Cadmium” just before the album’s only traditional guitar solo. The Promise of Rain is deft but wears violence on their sleeve driving between The Dillinger Escape Plan’s chaos and a far more sinister black metal side. Only halted once in its entirety on “Subduction,” The Promise of Rain is relentless and stabs its hooks deep, a desert thistle’s barb. 

On The Promise of Rain, Randall-Myers and crew have successfully captured the energy of a live performance, an exhausting listen like a trip through the literal desert. Black metal is the perfect vessel for the intensity that Scarcity conceptually need, and they utilize the medium perfectly with their writhing tremeloes and acrid blast beats. The album is as sublime for me as it must have been cathartic to record, an apotheosis of expressiveness through art. Back to my own journey, and it was impossible to deny a presence, a togetherness, not just with my mom and the other people who gazed starward, but with the universe I’m in and the stereotypical realization there’s no way we—humanity—are alone. Contemplating a hundred billion stars in one of a trillion galaxies one quickly forgets it’s a hundred and ten degrees out at midnight. The Promise of Rain captures that: complicated truths of what it feels like to experience being human.

Recommended tracks: In the Basin of Alkaline Grief, Scorched Vision, Venom & Cadmium, The Promise of Rain
You may also like: Pyrrhon, Thantifaxath, Dodecahedron, Meth., Kostnatěni
Final verdict: 8.5/10

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

Label: The Flenser – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Scarcity is:
Brendon Randall-Myers: guitar, synths
Doug Moore: vocals
Tristan Kasten-Krause: bass
Dylan DiLella: guitar
Lev Weinstein: drums

The post Review: Scarcity – The Promise of Rain appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: dissonant black metal, blackened death metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Deathspell Omega, The Ruins of Beverast, Ulcerate
Country: Minnesota, United States
Release date: 29 March 2024

As great as black metal tends to be, it always seems to come up short against my love for death metal. Ever since my first forays into the extreme metal subgenres, the pulverizing riffage and guttural vocals of death metal have just always been more enticing, each riff I hear an affirmation of my love for the genre. Black metal had no such luck. I was always aware of the subgenre, of course, but it has taken me years to form a genuine appreciation of it. A large portion of that development is thanks to blackened death metal acts like Behemoth and Skeletonwitch who bridged the gap for me. To this day I can’t help but appreciate some good blackened death metal. Enter Sacrificial Vein.

Combining an avant-garde approach to black metal similar to that of Deathspell Omega with the dissonant flavorings of bands like Ulcerate, the sound that Sacrificial Vein achieve on their debut output Black Terror Genesis is one of stifling heaviness and pummeling atmosphere. Bristlingly distorted guitars weave their way through blistering tremolo riffage and downtrodden chord work to tense and dreadful refrains where the stellar sound design and production really shines through. The drums follow suit, blasting along in the faster sections and landing with a satisfying heft when nuance fails. Just listen to the drums on the opening track “The Blood of the Wicked Shall Entomb the Earth,” and you’ll know what I mean. Those bad boys are meaty.

And despite how great the instrumentals on Black Terror Genesis may be, they are still overshadowed by an absolutely insane vocal performance. Ranging from the shrillest of blackened highs to the dankest and swampiest of lows, the vocals on display run the gamut of human capability. Oftentimes they completely devolve into the stuff you’d hear watching a horror movie rather than listening to death metal, and they are all the more engrossing for it. The track “Throne of Perversion” is perhaps the best example of this which sees vocals increasingly interrupted by bouts of manic laughter which then become a tensile musical device of their own, making the slinky riffage that comes after all the more memorable.

A notable and nearly constant element of Sacrificial Vein’s sound which I’ve haven’t yet discussed is its sound design. Be it the overdriven screams that speckle “Throne of Perversion,” the screeching, yet melodic electronic noise that adorns “Rites of Malignancy,” or the truly unnerving first section of the closer “Nil,” there is always some form of earcandy to satisfy the attentive listener. On the tracks already mentioned, Sacrificial Vein strikes a stellar balance between their atmospherics and their intrigue, but that balance slips on the more purely ambient tracks like “Apparition” and “Abjection” which I struggle to see as anything more than atmospheric padding. Perhaps that’s just my death metal brain acting up though. 

Black Terror Genesis is black metal that seems to have been tailor-made for me to enjoy thanks to its hammering, yet clear production and dissonant bent. The grandeur it delivers on tracks like “Throne of Perversion,” “Cruciatum Aeternum,” and “Nil,” get my head moving, yet there are countless moments refined and complex enough to make that dissonant tag seem like it’s not just for show. With each listen, I find something new to like about Black Terror Genesis. I’m being conservative with my score, but I know this album has room to grow. Don’t be surprised if you see this on my end of year lists.

Recommended tracks: Throne of Perversion, Cruciatum Aeternum
You may also like: Dodecahedron, Warforged, Convulsing
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: Total Dissonance Worship – Bandcamp | Facebook

Sacrificial Vein is:
– JU (Guitar, Bass, Composition)
– Elegist (Vocals, Lyrics)
– Matthew Paulazzo (Drums)
– Elliot Merriman (Sound Design/Fx, Mixing, Mastering)

The post Review: Sacrificial Vein – Black Terror Genesis appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Genres: avant-garde black metal, dissonant black metal, mathcore, zeuhl (mostly harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Blut Aus Nord, Plebeian Grandstand, Frontierer
Country: China
Release date: 12 January 2024

New year, same shit. The world is brimming with corruption, a worldwide disregard for human rights, ongoing wars in Ukraine and Gaza, a new opioid epidemic, widening gaps between the wealthy and poor, a no-longer-just-looming climate crisis… this shit isn’t gonna disappear with your New Year’s resolution. After three wildly successful dissonant black metal albums cut with the intensity of mathcore in 2023, China’s Ὁπλίτης is back mere weeks into 2024 with his most vitriolic album yet. Written “in divine rage,” Παραμαινομένη seeps a pure hatred for the state of the world—music is Ὁπλίτης’s medium to express distilled fucking anger. Godspeed.

Rage takes on several forms throughout Παραμαινομένη, perhaps none more omnipresent than the drumming, which follows traditional black metal’s penchant for blast beats but also superimposes strange mathcore and zeuhl acrobatics. The overall package contains a veritable onslaught of intense, blasting grooves and downward-spiraling flurries as if Sermon, Magma, Car Bomb, and Mayhem’s percussion sections became one. The frenetic furores of drums impress from several elevations and both channels in the mix, inescapable in their rapidly morphing precision and power. Unlike most black metal, the guitars play a secondary role to the percussive elements of Παραμαινομένη, providing an acerbic bite in the background with their slimy, pulsating riffs, only occasionally taking a full lead like the unexpected but strong, technical solo out of the manic hardcore of “Συμμιαινόμεναι Διονύσῳ Ἐλευθέριῳ.” The sheer variety of riffs keeps Παραμαινομένη engaging for repeat listening, too. We’re treated to chugging djent, blackened tremolo monstrosities, agitated mathcore, Thantifaxath-esque, freaky ascending and dissonant scales, and plenty more. Amazingly, the guitar riffs always align perfectly like a completed, intricate puzzle with the shifty drumming. Pound for pound, this is one of the craziest, most diverse black metal experiences of the year, guaranteed. Moreover, the bass slices through the mix to add some serious heft to an otherwise too-fast-to-be-truly-heavy album. The bass’s constant phrygian noodling and staccato riffs provide a necessary bridge between the guitar and the drums, completing a holistic sound across the album.

While divine rage provides an easy-to-follow throughline throughout the album, Ὁπλίτης is unafraid to dissolve expectations, taking drastic leaps away from the formula he’d established on his 2023 opera. Taking cues from an increasingly diverse range of influences, Ὁπλίτης immediately establishes clean chanting in Greek in opener “Μῆνιν ἄειδε, θεὰ παραμαινομένη ἐμοῦ…” along with tribal drumming and a plucked acoustic instrument (possibly lute), but after that brief intro, all hell breaks loose in possibly the most vicious black metal I have ever heard, as pissed off as Frontierer. Ὁπλίτης took the energy from a supernova and converted the sublime magnitude of fuel into this fifty-three minute album—a black hole would have been safer. Most novel to the sound of Παραμαινομένη, though, are the woodwinds. Zeuhl sax and Demoniac/A.M.E.M. style clarinet freak the heck out at several points, providing a less incisive timbre on top of the metal yet sounding no less violent as their sounds are mutilated nearly beyond recognition with overblowing and vicious, unpredictable runs like an evil Ayler, Braxton, or Sanders. These unique ornamentations on each track save the album from crumpling under its own vile weight; while most albums this uncompromisingly heavy eventually falter from an oversaturation of brutality and never-ending riffs, I eat up moments like the dissonant piano solo and operatic soprano in “Συμμαινόμεναι Διονύσῳ Ἐλευθέριῳ” or the Meshuggah djent into clarinet shred into plucked Greek strings in “’Ἡ τῶν λυσσημάτων ἄγγελος.” Ὁπλίτης keep it fresh in spite of its never-relenting, progressive, barging hatred. Παραμαινομένη’s experimentation keeps the train on the tracks.

This album is exhausting at over fifty minutes of incredible intensity, but with how much it mutates and even uses softer sections like in the majority of the closer, “Ἄπαυστα θεία μανίαI,” I think it’s still successful. Ὁπλίτης is self-aware at how taxing the album is, too, coming out of his divine rage at the very end panting like he just finished a marathon—and I’d be panting, too, if I just had to play those drum parts, but I prefer to imagine it’s a statement of awareness about the density of the material. 

I always assumed something singularly imposing like Meshuggah’s I or Jute Gyte’s “Hesperus Is Phosphorus” was about as furious as music could be until I turned on Παραμαινομένη, but this album uses the most wicked parts of Frontierer and Thantifaxath to forge a diverse, barbed hellscape of ire far more real than black metal’s typical tongue-in-cheek nihilism. Maybe it’s the hardcore energy or the absurdity of its distorted zeuhl elements, but this album is a dire admonition about the world and an appropriate message for the start of the year. Listen, get fucking pissed off, and enact some real change before the earth gets swallowed in humanity’s hubris.

Recommended tracks: Μῆνιν ἄειδε, θεὰ παραμαινομένη ἐμοῦ…, Συμμαινόμεναι Διονύσῳ Ἐλευθέριῳ
You may also like: Thantifaxath, Dodecahedron, Hebephrenique, Jute Gyte, Serpent Column, Red Rot, A.M.E.N.
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: independent

Ὁπλίτης is:
– J. L. (everything)

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