Style: raw black metal, post-black metal, Son Cubano (mixed vocals, mostly harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Sadness, Buena Vista Social Club, Willie Colón, Violet Cold
Country: Chile
Release date: 11 July 2025

One of my favorite aspects of metal is how well it can syncretize with any other genre¹. In my last couple reviews, I’ve done a bit of stylistic globetrotting for the blog, covering death metal mixed with Andalusian flamenco and heavy metal centered around traditional Byzantine chant. Today’s record of focus, To Escape’s debut I Wish to Escape, presents a new fusion: black metal and Son Cubano (Cuban sound). Interestingly, many Cubans no longer see the traditional form of Son Cubano (a blend of African and Spanish styles) as particularly relevant², as the genre has now assimilated into a broader range of Latin styles—mambo, bolero, salsa, timba, etc—to form the real “Cuban sound” of today. But both traditional Son and its modern derivatives utilize guitar, trumpet, and various forms of African and Latin percussion to form the instrumental basis for the style, and so the conversion to metal isn’t as far fetched as it may seem on the surface; however, converting raw post-black metal into Son is still no small task. Is one man band To Escape able to do that and become the next outstanding and innovative fusion act?

Well, no, and I think I Wish to Escape is entirely a false promise. Beyond too-quiet implementations of Latin percussion—snaps, bells, maracas, shakers, and güiro—mixed into the blast beats, as well as lovely acoustic Spanish guitar intro and outro tracks, nothing feels particularly Cuban about the sounds of the record. In the folk’s stead, we have a melodically focused raw black metal album with an upbeat twist. Relatively happy and nostalgic melodies are what David Sepulveda excels at, and unlike 99.9% of his contemporaries, the bass shares the leads equally with the guitars, the former featuring a shockingly round and full tone against the rawness of the rest of the record. From the outset of “Art of Their Misery,” addictively saccharine melodies with guitar and bass harmonies bleed through the speakers, and you’ll have riffs like the main ones in “Art of Their Misery” and “Desert in My Eyes, in Your Eyes I See” in your head for days…

… because of how repetitive they are. Sure, Sepulveda comes up with addictive leads and genuinely catchy melodies—despite some really unpleasant guitar tones (e.g. at the start of “Those Who Don’t Know”)—but he has a tendency to ride a single riff for ages. You’d expect a self-proclaimed post-black metal band to work with buildups more. I do appreciate when he throws more aggressive trem-picking into the writing to up the ante, as on “Desert in My Eyes, in Your Eyes I See,” but he plays around with slower tempos more often much to my chagrin. How To Escape plays around with form and structure more is in the percussion, where Sepulveda runs through blast beats and Latin dance rhythms with equal ease like a less-refined Caio Lemos of Kaatayra. Unfortunately, this is raw black metal, and the more interesting percussion gets lost in the characteristically fuzzy mix of the style. For example, you can pick out the bells underpinning the latter half of “Art of Their Misery” or the maracas near the start of “Path of Your Destiny.” I Wish to Escape is frustratingly unsuccessful at implementing its own gimmick.

Whether intentional or not, the record can also be a painful listen apart from the brighter leads and bass. Despite all the engaging and challenging drumming, many moments sound like Lars Ulrich on a black metal record (“Desert in My Eyes, in Your Eyes I See,” “Path of Your Destiny”). The guitars can seem drunkenly out of tune during solos (“There Is No End,” “The Infinite Chain.” The latter also has painfully amateur, emo clean vocals). Finally, Sepulveda’s harsh vocals. They’re a love em or hate em deal, on the visceral end of the black metal spectrum with a bit of a screamo quality. They’re certainly emotive—and he gets some entertainingly inhuman frog sounds out in “The Infinite Chain” and “That Unbreakable Chain”—but they don’t work well with the melodic quality of the music. 

I was extremely excited to hear Son Cubano in a black metal record, and now I feel like an unwary fish lured by an angler. My streak of compelling genre mixtures has come to a close. If you’re a huge fan of old Sadness, Trhä, and other rawer post-black bands, To Escape will prove a worthwhile listen with strong hooks and mostly creative drumming, but don’t go into it expecting anything unique.

Recommended tracks: The Beginning of the End, Art of Their Misery, There Is No End
You may also like: Trhä, Life, Kaatayra, Cicada the Burrower, Old Nick
Final verdict: 5/10

Related links: Bandcamp

Label: independent

To Escape is:
– All instrumentation, vocals, and lyrics by David Sepulveda
With guests:
– Additional percussion arrangement and production by Garry Brents

1. I’m still waiting for a tango nuevo + prog metal fusion, but at least we have Rodolfo Mederos’ lovely De Todas Maneras mixing prog rock and tango nuevo in the meantime. But I dare a prog metal fan to listen to Astor Piazzola’s masterpiece Tango: Zero Hour and tell me that mixing it with metal wouldn’t work amazingly. ︎
2. For a legendary piece of a modern take on the traditional sound, Buena Vista Social Club’s 1997 album is essential listening. ︎

The post Review: To Escape – I Wish to Escape appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive Metal, Djent (Clean Vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Tesseract, Monuments, later The Contortionist, Skyharbor
Country: Chile
Release date: 7 April 2025

I completely missed out on djent’s initial wave. I was but a child when Meshuggah was first bringing the genre to life on albums like Destroy Erase Improve (1995) and Chaosphere (1998), while the early 00s explorations of groups like Sikth, Tesseract, Veil of Maya, et al would go completely unnoticed, ensconced as I was in the realms of groove, nu, and power metal. Not until the 2010s would I get my first taste of djent’s polymetric grooving and eight-string abuse. I was certainly a fan of much of it, though I’d be hard-pressed to recall specific albums save a few (Skyharbor’s Guiding Lights and Meshuggah’s The Violent Sleep of Reason come to mind). Djent had quickly become filled with bands who, while perhaps boasting technically proficient players, lacked any sort of sonic identity beyond repeating the crunchy, bouncy glitch-metal and waxing introspection popularized by Tesseract and ilk.

With legions of sound-alikes, the genre’s reach as a sub-arm of progressive metal began to feel atrophied and almost like a joke. After all, how “progressive” can a genre be when it sounds like it’s crafted in an echo chamber? Stagnation begets degradation. Suffocation begets death—or at least, death within the critical noosphere. And as the 2020s has seen the domination of “modern metal” (as amorphous a moniker as any) through artists as Bad Omens, Sleep Token, and Spiritbox, not to mention the long-in-the-making ascension of Bring Me The Horizon, djent as a whole-cloth genre has felt less and less valued in the metalsphere.

But nothing stays dead forever, and there will always be artists finding ways to add spice to tired recipes. Which brings us to Chilean outfit Intrascendence and their eponymous debut. On the whole, the band blends atmosphere with grooving rhythms replete with downtuned chugs, and lyrics centered on introspection and themes of, well… transcendence. And if that sounds a lot like, say, Tesseract or Skyharbor or Veil of Maya or Monuments, then I thought so, too. As I fired up Intrascendence’s first cut, the bouncy and breathy “Believing to See,” I was struck by familiarity as the band ba-genk-genk’ed their guitars across a chunky, electronica-dusted landscape capped with powerful vocals equally searching and soaring.

Then the funk-bass, dop-doom-da-dums, and cheeky tongue clicks kicked open the bridge, and suddenly I found myself wandering entirely different terrain. I’ve always found there to be an inherent fun to djent, whether the executors of it intended it or not; a herky-jerky jauntiness tailor-made for the kind of impromptu jank-dancing I court shamelessly. Suddenly, Intrascendence was speaking a language of love to my admittedly weather-beaten soul, delivered in myriad spats a’la the jittery guitar lines pecking away at the atmo-prog of “Ostracism,” the symphonic metal-bombast of “Ascend to Infinity,” or the buoyant and bouncy “Self-Blinded,” perhaps my favorite slice off the record. And while much of Intrascendence does feel like Tesseract-core, it’s this undeniable liveliness and willingness to expand within well-trod sounds that keeps aspects of the album afloat in my memory.

I wish more of Intrascendence incorporated this kind of off-center experimentation. Tracks like “Stones,” “Strength,” and “Sintergy” are perfectly fine, but without the little additions found in “Believing to See” or “Self Blinded,” they can’t help feeling generic by comparison. As a result, Intrascendence have cultivated a clutch of songs that are good in the moment, gone in the aftermath. Then again, there’s much to be said for too much of a good thing; I’d hate to see the band’s creative playfulness weaponized into some form of inorganic template, where expectation overrides artistic intention.

Speaking of expectation…

Djent has a tendency to sound robotic, so stiff and stilted in its systematic syncopation that one could be excused for assuming machines were responsible—somewhat amusing, considering the genre’s preoccupation with humanity and introspection. Intrascendence somehow sidestep this issue, despite carrying many of the sonic markers of their forebears. There’s a palpable energy running through the entirety of the record. Key to this are Omar Alvear and Rodrigo del Canto, who handle guitar and bass, respectively. I can almost imagine them swaying and bouncing along with their instruments as they ebb, flow, drop, and stutter across the forty-one minute runtime. Martin Alvarez’s drumming is tight, yet allows for the kind of organic flow which made Neil Peart (Rush) such a joy to listen to. Singer Felipe Reyes’ cleans, breathy and resonant, may echo Tesseract’s Daniel Tompkins, but there’s elements of Ra frontman Sahaj Ticotin in the way he vocalizes and holds certain notes, adding small but flavorful differences in support of Intrascendence’s uniqueness.

I approached Intrascendence with caution. At its worst, djent is not unlike the tulpa of progressive metal: a vessel filled to the brim with the ideas of depth, nuance, challenge, etc, yet unmistakably hollow and lacking vitality. Derivative of the thoughts which conjured it into reality. Though Intrascendence’s existence is clearly indebted to those who came before, that has not stopped these Chileans from pushing beyond the measures of their make to conjure a work awash in the liveliness of their own humanity.

Recommended tracks: Believing to See, Self Blinded, Ascend to Infinity
You may also like: Blinded By Silence, He Knows (formerly Form Subtract), Inner Cabala, A Notion of Silence, Perfect Shadows
Final verdict: 7/10

Related links: Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Independent

Intrascendence is:
– Felipe Reyes (vocals)
– Omar Alvear (guitar)
– Rodrigo del Canto (guitar, bass)
– Martin Alvarez (drums)
– Manuel Arriaza (keyboard)

The post Review: Intrascendence – Intrascendence appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive rock, jazz fusion, psychedelic rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Vulkan, Thank You Scientist, The Mars Volta
Country: Chile
Release date: 4 March 2025

Ah, the ever-contentious question of what determines a genre. I return often to this video essay by Mike Rugnetta at the (sadly now defunct) PBS Idea Channel, which posits in part that new artistic genres are not always defined by an artist doing anything strictly groundbreaking. Some trend-setters, such as Franz Kafka or the Dark Souls series of video games, instead “create their own precursors,” establishing new genres by recontextualizing artistic elements that had already been used by their peers and predecessors. These subtle revolutionaries bring new perspectives as they pick out existing commonalities that in retrospect could have already described a genre of their own, had anyone cared to see the link. Music, of course, is no exception to this kind of effect; sometimes the most exciting artists aren’t those breaking new ground entirely, but rather those who can combine things you already loved in a way few others have (yet).

Chercán step onto the stage with their self-titled debut album, and while it would be premature to herald the formation of a new genre, their most noteworthy features are found in the recombination of diverse styles—familiar, but not exactly like any individual band. I was first drawn to Chercán by their similarity to Vulkan, a moderately-known but rarely-imitated band fusing aspects of psychedelic and heavy progressive rock (reminiscent of The Mars Volta but far less wacky). Chercán draw their core sound from this same well, leaning slightly away from the heavy prog influences in favor of jazz, and the Chileans’ instrumentation strays into the unconventional with the inclusion of saxophone as a primary contributor. Matías Bahamondes covers the whole range of the woodwind’s capabilities, from calm jazz rock akin to Thank You Scientist in “7 Colores” to experimental wailing at the tail end of “Caen Las Hojas Blancas,” but for the most part the saxophone integrates into the mix as smoothly as a second lead guitar. Guest musicians on string instruments also add extra color to the palette, sometimes subtly blending with the more traditional jazz/rock orchestration, but also stepping into the spotlight from time to time, such as during the interlude “Desolación (En)” and the opening of the balladic followup “Tiempos Paralelos.”

Chercán excel as much at expressing an aggressive, hard-edged mood bordering on metal as they do at producing a softer, instrumental focused, almost symphonic rock sound. Even moreso, it’s impressive how the same musicians and instruments can contribute equally to each facet. Martín Peña’s vocals impart a sense of tension and urgency during more abrasive times like “Caen Las Hojas Blancas” just as much as they add to the expressive beauty of the string-focused “Tiempos Paralelos.” Meanwhile, the duelling saxophone and guitar melodies that adorn each song shift effortlessly into whichever tone is required from moment to moment, alternately pouring out harsh intensity to the full extent of each instrument’s capabilities in the second half of opener “La Culpa” and producing sweet, calming melodic layers in “Kalimba.” I would be remiss to not also mention drummer Rodrigo González Mera, whose fantastic rhythm parts almost rival the melody instruments in their intricacy (most notably in “Relato De Una Obsesión. Parte II: El Orate”). Additional percussion instruments not found on a standard drum kit add a further sense of the otherworldly and sublime throughout both parts of “Relato De Una Obsesión” as well as during the marimba-filled opening of “Kalimba.”

I complain all too often about bands whose unwieldy and repetitive riffs carve virtual ruts into the sound of their music, wearing down the listener’s patience the way anxious pacing wears out the carpet. I have good news, though: Chercán are not one of those bands. Repetitive phrases like the chugging guitar and saxophone rhythms which recur a couple times throughout “Las Mentiras Del Muro” establish a steady groove while mixing up the details, like the shift from low, almost growled vocals to high shrieks after a couple cycles. Most importantly, Chercán have the sense to get out of the way and move on to something else before it becomes too stale, as they do with the energetic instrumental break that closes out “Las Mentiras.” Only two slightly dimmer spots blemish the sheen of this otherwise excellent album. While Chercán’s musical talent and quality never come into question, the tracks “Caen Las Hojas Blancas” and “Las Mentiras Del Muro” partially undercut the musical experience that Chercán otherwise provides. Both focus more heavily on the in-your-face and intense side of the band’s repertoire, and the relative uniformity leads to a less exciting and dynamic experience than the subtlety that Chercán are capable of at their peak, as demonstrated by the opener “La Culpa” which successfully balances both extremes.

Unbound by standards of genre or instrumentation, Chercán revel in the endless recombination of music. Drawing on the eclectic psychedelic and progressive influences of their musical ancestors Vulkan and The Mars Volta, Chercán execute a coup de grâce with the addition of saxophone and strings, elevating their debut to a unique plane of music. Chercán is dynamic, it shows a range of talents, and it’s also just gorgeous. Talented songwriting allows the musicians the space they need to shine, building momentum and avoiding dull repetition with a wealth of musical ideas available to cycle through, but also maintaining a steady pace that never feels like it’s in a rush to continue from one section to the next. Although their individual features inevitably trace back to some other source of inspiration, their creative combination offers a welcome shot of novelty in a year that’s been a little slow to get off the ground.

Recommended tracks: La Culpa, Kalimba, Tiempos Paralelos, Relato De Una Obsesión (both parts), 7 Colores
You may also like: Bend the Future, Seven Impale, Papangu
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: Independent

Chercán is:
– Martín Peña (vocals, guitars – “7 Colores”)
– Simón Catalán (bass)
– Roberto Faúndez (guitars)
– Matías Bahamondes (saxophone)
– Rodrigo González Mera (percussion)
With guests:
– Benjamín Ruz (violin)
– Javiera González (viola)
– Ariadna Kordovero (cello)

The post Review: Chercán – Chercán appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Probably done by Syrkander.

Style: Progressive metal, symphonic metal, death metal, gothic metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Persefone, MIDI instruments, Peter Steele-esque vocals
Country: Chile
Release date: 10 January, 2025

Unreal Engine 5 did to game development what Bandcamp did to the indie music scene. No longer did you as a budding young artist need to secure funding and a space to develop your craft. You could just do it from your bedroom. Like a game created in UE5, you too can now create a polished sounding record with programmed drums and MIDI instruments. I mean, just look at most bedroom djent bands that release a few songs every few months. Insane amounts of polish and sound quality, but you look a little too long, and you get the same problem with games developed in UE5: they’ve all got a similar feel, a similar graphical art style, or in the case of music in the prog sphere, uniform identity. 

Syrkander, surprisingly enough, is a bedroom project that’s not a djent or terrible atmoblack band. Instead, the one-man Chilean act opts for a heavily symphonic style à la Dessiderium, with all the chugs of a Gojira-clone and an attempt at the grandeur of Aquilus. All of these prior bands are successful at finding identity and a unique sound, there’s none of that to be found here.  I hear a lot of prog-death staples on this album (i.e. mixed vocals, trem-picked riffs), but all of it lacks any serious substance whatsoever. The very glue that holds this behemoth of an album together is the fact that it just refuses to stop its over EIGHTY-MINUTE pulverization of my eardrums.

In the very wise words of me, you create something original when all your influences become so compounded on top of eachother that simultaneously all and nothing of them remain of them in your work. I hear some classic power metal DNA in Syrkander’s inbred formula here, as exemplified by ‘Salvame’, in which our band leader does his best Dan “The Man” Swanö impression over a one-note chuggy-chuggy riff. I also hear a bit of Persefone’s rhythmic fuckery and (attempts at) flourishes, but this remains the chief complaint I take with Via Internam: a complete lack of cohesion whatsoever. Syrkander doesn’t do much in the riff department, with much of it becoming layered mush underneath the deluge of leads and symphonic cushioning. Whenever Syrkander can, he will make sections go on for far longer than need be for padding’s sake, with opener ‘Become Darkness’ flaunting one riff for all three-and-a-quarter minutes of its overlong runtime.

Syrkander’s ambition mix with his identity crisis is also apparent in his vocal styles. While I commend the effort of having both cleans and harshes on a one-man album, Edge of Sanity this is not. ‘Feverish’ sees him trying a low-register, Type-O Negative-esque croon that just sounds like he’s drunk and slurring his words. However, this doesn’t really make a return anywhere on the album, instead opting for his Dan Swanö impression for most of the album. In fact, I’m not even sure he sounds like the Witherscape frontman so much as he sounds like a mid-2000s alt metal vocalist trying to sing a ballad. An alt metal influence might explain the simple riffing, but again, I can’t tell what sparked this man’s neurons together in the first place even after I’ve listened. While some symphonic parts are cool, such as the choir on ‘Furia Divinia’, none of it feels earned. There are no big builds and even bigger releases on Via Internam, just eighty-minutes of songs floating in a pool of their own gelatinous mass.

I have barely mentioned the symphonic aspect of Syrkander, because it may as well not be there. Nearly every song begins and ends with some kind of string or synth, and none of it is used interestingly. The Chilean can’t decide if he wants it to be used in the background for atmosphere, like Emperor’s classic In the Nightside Eclipse or to have it be front and center like most modern symphonic bands. On ‘Dhet Khom Uhsal’, its absence is sorely missed with the one time Syrkander wants to create a semi-interesting riff, which would go perfectly with a few string flutters. This is, of course, before he repeats said section too many times.

Like my UE5 game analogy, Syrkander is something that was made with likely good intentions and no way of reaching them. This is ambitious for a one-man band to accomplish, but not everyone can be Alex Haddad (Dessiderium). Instead, Via Internam is a shoddily put together mess of symphonic flourishes and riffs that are so bare bones he may as well have opted to make an album without guitar entirely. I can only give Syrkander credit for trying, but he has a long way to go before attempting another epic of this standing. If it were up to me, I think he should start from ground zero. Figure out what went wrong here so as not to pull a Culak. Also, lose the spoken word and evil laughs: they’re not helping your cause here.

Recommended tracks: Furia Divinia, Dhet Khom Uhsal, Nemsis
You may also like: Culak, Ben Baruk, Aeternam, Aquilus
Final verdict: 3/10

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

Label: Independent

Syrkander is:
– Syrkander (probably everything?)

The post Review: Syrkander – Via Internam appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Epic Doom Metal (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Candlemass, Khemmis, Pallbearer, Krux
Country: Chile
Release date: 18 October 2024

Hell yeah. Autumn is in full swing in the northern hemisphere, and I couldn’t be happier: I languish in the oppressive Georgia summer heat, and the cooling of this unlivable hellscape means that I can finally be outside and reconnect with nature for a little bit. Inevitably, that means busting out the dark folk for the fully immersive grass-touching experience, as nothing beats watching the trees change color while listening to my favorite dark-folk-meets-black-metal grou… Hold on. I’ve just gotten a message saying this is epic doom metal. It’s not even folk? But it’s November! You expect me to go through my November listening to music that isn’t adorned in pillowy moss and weathered by the ancient winds of time? …Oh, you’re telling me it’s a new release by Capilla Ardiente? Well, that changes everything: I quite enjoyed 2019’s The Siege, and I can most certainly make time for another album of theirs. So let’s take a quick break from the falling leaves and get a full view of Where Gods Live and Men Die.

Chile’s Capilla Ardiente are no strangers to the dramatic, playing a theatrical and progressive spin on epic doom metal: the Lief Edling (Candlemass) inspiration is palpable across Where Gods Live as guitar flourishes accentuate dire riffage in classic doom fashion, weaving ideas across extensive exploratory pieces accompanied by gruffly belted vocals, deliciously chunky bass, and pummeling drum work. Many tracks take at least one moment to pick up the pace, such as the faster middle sections on “As I Lie On the Summit,” the solos that bookend “Now Here. Nowhere,” or the retro-throwback assault at the end of “The Hands of Fate Around My Neck,” but compositions on the whole favor slower and mid-paced ideas. While no excessive change can be found between 2019’s The Siege and Where Gods Live and Men Die, this does not diminish the merits of Where Gods Live, as the formula just works: Capilla Ardiente have found a songwriting approach that affords them a balance of cinematics and catchiness, so as far as I’m concerned they can get away with it as long as they like provided they can maintain their flair for doomy theatrics.

A majority of the time, Where Gods Live and Men Die does well with this formula, establishing powerful riffs and iterating on them (“Now Here. Nowhere”) or riding the highs of the several mini-climaxes within a track (“As I Lie On the Summit”). Attention must be brought to the soloing of Julio Bórquez, which often borders on cinematic and adds central moments of interest across virtually every track: the instrumental break on “Now Here. Nowhere” is almost mournful and cleverly establishes the ideas in the second half; the repeated solo in “The Hands of Fate Around My Neck” creates an air of unease before exploding into its choruses; and the aggressive soloing that introduces the opening verse of “Envenomed” teeters on face-melting. Tying together the compelling instrumentals are the vocals of Felipe Kutzbach, whose gruff yet operatic timbre is a great springboard for verses to effortlessly roll from section to section. Highlights are found on “The Hands of Fate Around My Neck” and “Envenomed,” where moody verses meld easily into operatic choruses, and “As I Lie On the Summit” provides many interesting detours for Kutzbach’s voice to shine. Despite an overall dour atmosphere, Where Gods Live’s execution makes the experience more fun than anything, leading to songs that feel short and sweet despite their extended songwriting approach.

However, the remainder of Where Gods Live’s runtime exposes faults in Capilla Ardiente’s formula: though most tracks feel short on Where Gods Live, when the execution is improper, songs begin to feel meandering and bloated, and opener “Envenomed” suffers the most from this. While Claudio Botarro’s chunky bass-led motifs work well to centralize the track in its first half, much of the second half features many of the album’s weakest ideas and wanders in a way that simply doesn’t stick, resulting in a mostly aimless experience that fails to capture my attention again until its closing moments. “As I Lie On the Summit,” for example, avoids this by narrowing down the scope of the riffs and making a point to return to its central idea, and despite “Now Here. Nowhere” diverging in its second half, both segments maintain a strong identity through repetition and prevent the track from collapsing in on itself. With a trimmed down runtime or more thoughtful and intentional execution of its core components, the opener could be more fully realized, but as it is, it’s a bit of a sour note to begin an otherwise lovely album.

Where Gods Live and Men Die shows Capilla Ardiente once again indulging in over-the-top epic doom ideas to mostly great success, offering plenty for listeners to sink their teeth into over its extended compositions. Despite slipping into faux pas on occasion through meandering songwriting, Capilla Ardiente maintain an air of camp exuding from both the operatic vocal delivery and from the variety of soloing, showing that they are unafraid to lean into the sensibilities that make epic doom metal so compelling and enjoyable. I wouldn’t mind seeing them explore shorter song lengths in the future, as it may help them avoid the intermittent lack of focus that holds Where Gods Live and Men Die back from greatness.

Recommended Tracks: As I Lie On the Summit, The Hands of Fate Around My Neck, Now Here. Nowhere
You may also like: While Heaven Wept, Spirit Adrift, Marrower
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: High Roller Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Capilla Ardiente is:
– Claudio “Botarrex” Botarro (bass)
– Julio Bórquez (guitars)
– Felipe Plaza Kutzbach (vocals)
– Francisco Aguirre (drums)
– Igor Leiva (guitars)

The post Review: Capilla Ardiente – Where Gods Live and Men Die appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal, djent (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Jinjer, Tesseract, new Haken, Seven Spires
Country: Chile
Release date: 27 September 2024

My old phone had a bunch of problems: the battery had to be replaced, I dropped it and cracked the screen so badly it had to have a new front, the charger port shorted out and had to be replaced in its totality, and on another occasion I dropped it and broke the camera which also had to be replaced. I started to call my phone ‘The Ship of Theseus’ in reference to the old philosophical conundrum: if Theseus kept taking his boat out on adventures and kept having repairs and replacements done at dock and a time came when none of the original parts remained, could it still be called the same boat? 

Delta haven’t yet fully Ship of Theseus’d, but keyboardist Nicolás Quinteros is the only member to have been with the group since their founding in Chile in 2003. Gemini is the group’s seventh outing, and the second album to feature latest vocalist Paula Loza. With a new guitarist, Victor Quezada, in tow, and longtime mainstays Marcos Sánchez (bass) and Andrés Rojas (drums) making up the rhythm section, Delta are a band who have existed in many guises, with a range of experience. Does a history of repairs and replacements add up to a tightened unit or a clattering wreck?

Delta’s foundational style is the bombast of modern trad prog with that anthemic, djenty gloss—thick riffs and clamorous synth solos—coupled with something more melodic and reigned in, suffusing synthwave influences, melodic piano and more vulnerable vocal performances. Loza’s powerful delivery is key to Delta’s success, “The Tower” providing a great showcase of her skills, from ominous half-whispered vocals, belting hooks, and aggressive growls. Loza joined on 2021’s Fears, a strong album and my introduction to the band, but one which opted more for speed and aggression. Loza’s vocals have become even stronger somehow, and the entire band’s songwriting approach has matured into something more progressive and considered; grandiose in its atmospheres yet willing to show restraint in order to get the most out of the climaxes and crescendos.

While fundamentally a band firmly rooted in the progressive metal and djent sphere, building on the tradition of such disparate groups as Haken, Jinjer and Tesseract, Delta avoid becoming hemmed in by stylistic tropes. The strong emphasis on interactions between synth and lead guitar remind me of Frost*, symphonic flourishes here and there nod to the influence of groups like Seven Spires and Unleash the Archers, while the combination of major key soloing, a belting vocalist, and hook-forward writing frequently takes me back to my Alter Bridge days. There are even some vocal performances befitting the realms of nu metal, as on “At Last” and “The Great Dilemma”. Delta manage to distil a lot of different subgenre influences successfully, blending them into a contiguous whole that manages to be a distinct and unabashedly progressive sound in its own right.  

Take “At Last” by way of example, a track built on a simple yet massive synth hook from the annals of power metal but which also features a nu metal section, staccato djent with thrumming bass, and intricate progressive riffing in the climactic outro. In lesser hands, such genre hopping would feel like whiplash, but as much as “At Last” frequently surprises, it never feels like a succession of bits; the whole track flows and every section sits logically within the composition. Gemini consistently pull off this trick: “The Tower” has forays into metalcore, “Gemini” and “Cosmic Reverie” contain synths that are positively 80s in their waveyness, and “The Humanest” leans rather magnificently into full-blown opera. Closing duo “Cosmic Reverie” and “Cosmic Voyager” comprise Gemini’s two-part finale, an instrumental spectacle suffused with rock opera grandiosity and spacey intrigue that allows the members to stretch out, not that they weren’t already doing that. It’s a gamble to exclude Loza from the final ten minutes of the album, but she’s already more than earned her keep, and the instrumental bestows a conclusive overture/ending credits quality which proves enjoyable. 

I could list a ton more standout moments (the solo section in “So Wrong!” with that funky bass work underneath deserves mention as does the softer character of “To Find the End” which sees Loza and Quinteros interplay beautifully), but what makes Gemini work is a fantastic mix: the bass thunders metallically with barely any distortion, thrumming as a perfect tonal counterpoint to the distorted guitar work; the synth glimmers and Loza, of course, sounds fantastic—every element is fantastically cared for, every build up feels earned. Indeed, everything about Gemini sounds great, which makes it all the more surprising to have to say that some of those belting anthemic choruses and introductory riffs start to blend into one by the album’s latter stretches—you can sing-along in the moment but when you have so many earworms cut from the same cloth, it’s hard for any single one to stick in your head. It’s a bizarre problem to have because ninety percent of the time Delta are creative dynamos, deftly weaving subgenre influences and cohering as an admirably tight unit, and yet the hooks holding all this together become the least engaging part of their sound.

Nevertheless, Gemini showcases a group who’ve found exactly the right performers to get the best out of their sound, a single unit focused on laser tight compositions, massive atmospheres, and virtuosic performances; this incarnation of the band might be dramatically different from their original form, but they’re so much more for all those changes. Delta having found the wind in their sails, a bold captain, a billowing mizzen, a— [drops phone on the floor]. 

Recommended tracks: At Last, So Wrong!, The Humanest
You may also like: Scardust, Temic, The Stranger
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: Iged Records – Facebook | Official Website

Delta is:
– Nicolás Quinteros (keyboards)
– Paula Loza (vocals)
– Victor Quezada (guitars)
– Marcos Sánchez (bass)
– Andrés Rojas (drums)

The post Review: Delta – Gemini appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive Metal, Post Metal, Doom Metal (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Katatonia, Swallow the Sun, Votum
Review by: Christopher
Country: Chile/International
Release date: 23 June, 2023

Here we are, we’re (approximately) halfway through the year, and I hate to say it but this hasn’t been a great year for the progressive underground thus far (never fear, we’ve got a best of the year so far post in the works!). I’ve reviewed my fair share of works this year, and I can name many strong albums, but truly outstanding albums have been few and far between. Nevertheless, one of the strongest releases thus far is Sermon’s sophomore Of Golden Verse, and when I came across a band that ticked many of the Sermon boxes, I knew I needed to review them. Might we have another Of Golden Verse on our hands here?

Wooden Veins are a group of Chilean musicians spread across Europe, and Imploding Waves, their sophomore, was recorded variously in Chile, the Czech Republic, Spain and Germany. Javier Cerda’s vocals have a deep, gothic timbre; he croons gracefully atop the compositions, somewhat redolently of Sermon’s anonymous “Him”. And the similarities between the two bands compound: the same pounding intensity of drums under slower, dissonant rhythms, epic crescendos, and sombre lead guitar licks. Imploding Waves isn’t as polished as Of Golden Verse, and Wooden Veins leaning more on their post-metal roots at times, but they scratch a similar itch to Sermon. 

Unfortunately, the mix and master on this release leave much to be desired. When the full band play, everything blurs into one wall of sound; guitar and synth become an indiscernible alloy, cymbal splashes blends in too, and the double bass canter has all the aggression of a sewing machine on max speed. It’s a shame because you can hear that a hell of a lot of very cool stuff is going on here, but the production doesn’t let the individual elements shine with the lustre they should. As a result, “Dreamside Death” is a somewhat weak opener, diving straight in with the full band and showcasing the production’s worst problems from the off. Wooden Veins like to play with dynamics, so these production problems aren’t always apparent, but when they do they’re significantly distracting. 

Additionally, while the progressive sense of flow is impressive, Wooden Veins could push the envelope further. They show a desire to do this at times, as in the electronica beat under “L’apell du Vide” which transitions nicely into “Skies” which in turn plays with some more synth layers, for example, or the synth-heavy vocoder experiments of “Ganymede”. However, on some tracks they lean more into their doom and post-metal foundations—”The Dreamer” and “Broken World” in particular—and this is the side of Imploding Waves that proves less striking. Maybe it’s an obvious point to make on a prog blog, but I prefer Wooden Veins when they’re more progressive. 

Grandiose, creative, and catchy, Imploding Waves does just about everything one would expect from this particular type of progressive metal. And yet, while there’s much to admire here, there are more directionless tracks which lean too heavily on doomier trappings, and the entire record is let down by lacklustre production. To be clear, I don’t want Wooden Veins to sound more like Sermon, merely to sound more like themselves; to capitalise on what makes them great and refine it. Despite these setbacks, Imploding Waves has still managed to charm me and demonstrates that Wooden Veins are a band worth watching.

Recommended tracks: Tearing Seas, Skies, Calling
You may also like: Sermon, Athemon
Final verdict: 6.5/10

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

Label: Ardua Music – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Wooden Veins is:
– Alberto Atalah (drums)
– Javier Cerda (vocals)
– Juan Escobar (guitars)
– Juan Díaz (bass)
– Eduardo Poblete (synth)

The post Review: Wooden Veins – Imploding Waves appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Old School Death Metal/Thrash Metal (mixed vocals)
Review by: Sabrina
Country: Chile
Release date: 23 July, 2021

Back during November of 2018, my fellow Progressive Subway reviewer Dylan had taken up Overtoun’s debut album Centuries of Lies. He stated that the band had major songwriting potential, but a lot of their implementations of ambient instrumental tracks, and their often-amateurish delivery made the album range from “absolutely brilliant” to “utter garbage”. After giving Centuries of Lies a few thorough listens, I would not entirely disagree. But to be fair to the band, many of the songs that were included in their debut had originated from demos that they had written years before.

On that note, going from the debut of their 2021 release This Darkness Feels Alive exemplifies nothing less than an incredible transformation. Almost as though they had listened directly to Dylan’s words and worked to redeem every one of his gripes. I’d go as far as to say that this is a better product in virtually every conceivable way. When Dylan said that the band had potential, I had no idea how right he was until now.

This album essentially sounds like a modern revival of your favorite OSDM albums but on the progressive and technical side of the scene; think of post-Human Death, Pestilence, or Atheist… Hey, in fact, Atheist’s current bassist is the vocalist of this band. There is additionally a mix of melodic tech-death/tech-thrash sounds, similar to ones you might hear from Revocation. These are combined with what the band states are Latin folk and groove influences. But I generally see this as a new-wave, progressive old school death metal album.

When it comes down to the overall craftsmanship of the album, this is something that any other upcoming death metal band should aspire to be. I am always someone who absolutely loves quality album artwork, and this thing is an absolute masterpiece. This painting by Paolo Girardi is gorgeously illustrated and is about as intricate as the music itself. It is gorgeously textured, lifelike, and dripping with detail. It really paints a picture of where this album is taking us: to hell. But this is not any ordinary hell; it is the hell from within. The album’s theme is delving deep down to discover the darkest hellscape of human nature (suffering, inner torment, self-hatred, etc.)

When it comes to the mixing and mastering of this album, it is phenomenal, especially (no offense) for an OSDM album. This was mastered by Flemming Rasmussen, the legend behind Metallica’s albums: Ride the Lightning through And Justice For All… Albums that sound this good make one realize that technology advancing can really make a huge difference. The overall quality of mix and mastering that This Darkness Feels Alive has makes all of the old albums it was influenced by simply pale in comparison. It’s like when you look back on an old videogame you used to play, reminiscing about how realistic it looked, only to look at a video of it after 15 years to see that the memory you had was entirely exaggerated.

The album starts with pristine, epic guitar chords as though the album was introducing a power metal album, but in a strange twist, Underneath spirals into death metal brutality with punchy drums, angular tech-death riffs, and Obituary-esque gutturals. Much of this album follows a certain progressive/tech-death style: dynamic and aggressive drumming layered under exceptionally written, energetic riffs scattered across a relentless bass performance. The riffs are so plentiful, and for songs on the shorter side, the band manages to squeeze in so much proggy material with little time wasted. The songs transition from section to section seamlessly and continually impress me with their instrumental technicality and raw power.

This album is fairly intense for those who are not used to the aggression of death metal, but the album for sure has its mellower moments. Scattered through the album, Overtoun made sure to break up the abrasiveness with tracks like the “Araucaria” instrumental which has big medieval folk vibes with its rhythmic acoustic guitar, woodblocks, tambourine, maracas, and a very subtle symphony. The track “Alone” is somewhat of a melo-death song with the album’s only clean vocals. This track really brings out the emotion of sadness and isolation before it builds up to an orgasmic guitar solo with a reprisal of the song’s main riff. This kind of thing is utilized in much of this album, where the band introduces a main lead riff and develops its melody over time with new interpretations and reprisals. In my opinion, it is the small details like this that make a classic album.

My favorite song from this album is “Pitch-Black”, which starts with a stampede of bass and drums, which transitions into another one of their signature riffs and intense growls. The song continues with a slightly altered version of the first rhythm section until the song slowly breaks down into a beautiful violin/acoustic guitar transition. This stringed interlude just makes the Opeth fan in me want to shed a tear in awe of its fluidity and emotional power. However, the song finishes off with as much energy as it started with a wild guitar solo, double bass drums, low-tremolo picks, and the lead riff.

As long as this review turned out to be, I still want to take a moment to comment on the phenomenal guitar solos that this band produces. All of the songs, except for the instrumental, have at one or two guitar solos each, and wow: these are crazy good. This has got to be some of the better shredding I’ve heard from tech death in a good bit, and the past few months have had some real shredders. I would not be surprised if I was told that the guitarist has written over a hundred solos and curated the best ones for this album. They are all very creative and technical.

This album is really something to behold. The band members are very young and have so much passion, creativity, raw emotion, and energy. They have not been softened by the passing of time, nor have they gotten into a rut of having decades of repetitious thought patterns, putting out album-after-album of the same sound. But for being so young as they are, the band members have such a developed sense of melody, songwriting ability, and an eye (or ear?) for detail. At this point, Overtoun sounds like a band that could have been crafting prog/tech death for a lifetime. But they are just getting started. If you consider yourself a fan of Death/Atheist, or that general style that revolves around the progressive side of OSDM, I don’t know what you’re doing if you have not yet listened to this album.

Recommended tracks: Pitch-Black, Underneath, This Darkness Feels Alive
Recommended for fans of: Death, Atheist, Revocation, Obituary, Siderean
Final verdict: 8.5/10

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

Label: Independent

Overtoun is:
– Yoav Ruiz-Feingold (vocals)
– Matías Bahamondes (guitars)
– Guillermo Rocha (bass)
– Agustín Lobo (drums & percussion)

The post Review: Overtoun – This Darkness Feels Alive appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Andes prog (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Premiata Forneria Marconi, Tamouz
Review by: Tim
Country: Chile
Release date: 1981

Although prog rock is a genre that originated in the Anglo-Saxon world, already from the early 1970s onward countless bands outside Great Britain and the USA integrated influences from local music traditions. In countries like Turkey (Anatolian rock), Spain (Andalusian rock / flamenco prog), India (raga rock), Indonesia (gamelan prog) and the French part of Canada (Québec prog) local scenes arose that were inspired by the first prog rock movement but all developed in a unique way. Of course, all over the world there also existed prog bands that adopted a more western sound, but the idea of the west innovating and the rest of the world imitating doesn’t do justice to all the beautiful variations of progressive music that came to life in the 1970s and later.

South America was no exception. The Peruvian Laghonia, the Brazilian Os Mutantes and Bacamarte, and the Argentinian Arco Iris and Bubu were all great bands that leaned towards the western progressive rock sound, while for example the Venezuelan Vytas Brenner, the Peruvian El Polen, and the Chilean Congreso had a stronger focus on progressive folk inspired by local traditions. The topic of our review, however, Los Jaivas, is a band that took the best from both worlds. They managed to create a unique and timeless sound that one could describe as Andes prog. In their warm and happy sound electric guitars and Fender rhodes go hand in hand with a plethora of traditional instruments. The Andes element is in a sense not traditional folk, since instruments from many parts of South-America were combined to form a new sound. Disclaimer: although Los Jaivas is well-known in Chile and therefore technically not underground, in the rest of the world it’s a different story. Therefore I think it is justified to write this Lost in Time about what I think is their best record, Alturas de Macchu Picchu (Heights of Macchu Picchu).

Alturas de Macchu Picchu is based on fellow Chilean’s Pablo Neruda’s poem from 1945 that carries the same title. The lyrics sung on the album are excerpts from that complex work, that in a nutshell criticizes the soullessness of (western) modernity and offers a solution in returning to traditional South-American culture. Machu Picchu, as it is written nowadays, is an Inca city that was discovered only centuries after the age of the conquistadores and it is therefore still relatively intact nowadays. It is therefore not very surprising it was chosen as a historical reference and in this case even the recording location, in the footsteps of Neruda, who visited Machu Picchu for inspiration over a third of a century earlier.

The introductory track “Del Aire al Aire” (From Air to Air) instantly transports the listener to between the South American mountains. Birds are singing and traditional instruments build up a mystical and somewhat ominous atmosphere. Then, in “La Poderosa Muerte” (Mighty Death) a piano section accompanies the traditional section, which grants the track phenomenal emotional depth. The woodwind section is also great, just like the great emotional yet not over-the-top singing that follows*. Yet, perhaps surprisingly, the subsequent synthesizer section might deserve the most praise. First of all, the quality of its sound, especially in 1981, is epic on both the low and high frequencies. This magical artefact just adds that extra bit of flavour to an already stunningly beautiful progressive composition. And for those who fear that the folky elements come at the expense of the rock factor: a guitar solo follows right after. This has everything. In the second half of the composition Los Jaivas switch to a ritualistic Inca interlude, while still including the piano, which at this point sounds as native to the Inca sound as potatoes are to Europeans. Finally, the song returns to its initial symphonic approach, but with new chords, new melodies, and new lyrics. What an experience! Then the last song of the A-side is “Amor Americano” (American Love), that manages to sound fun and quirky in a positive way. It is yet again a great marriage between the ancient and the modern; also, album-wise, it offers variation at the right moment.

*the lyrics being an excerpt from the poem, but it would be a farce if I claimed to know anything substantial about poetry, let alone in Spanish

The B-side opens with “Águila Sideral” (Sidereal Eagle), an initially improvised piano-bass duet that only later had drums, the singing of more of Neruda’s work, and the quena (the traditional Andean flute) added to the recording. The calming harmonies created this way are delightful, while the bass and piano keep varying intricately. Although improvised in nature, the end result stays out of free jazz waters and makes a composed impression. Afterwards, in “Antigua América” (Ancient America), the listener is welcomed with pan flutes and a quena before the prog kicks in. The drums generally serve the album’s compositions on this album, but they get a bit more room to shine here. Although this song could be described as energetic pan flute prog, surprisingly enough a harpsichord is implemented and for some odd reason it feels like it just belongs there. A brave choice by Los Jaivas!

“Sube a Nacer Conmigo Hermano” (Come Be Born With Me, Brother!) is even more full of joy and life than the previous song and that is no coincidence: the album follows the progression of Neruda’s poem. The start was emotionally neutral (from air to air), then there was sorrow, and by now a new purpose in life has been found and the sound is engulfed in sheer optimism. It’s such a pleasure to hear! Then, “Final” closes the album. It is reminiscent of the start of “La poderosa muerte”, but the mood is far more joyful here. A great end to this concept album. Although the emotional state evolves throughout Alturas de Macchu Picchu in order to really tell a story, the style itself does not start with western prog rock and ends in pure Andean folk, but rather consistently remains the best of both worlds.

In conclusion this album as a whole is phenomenal. Each individual song is not only individually strong, but also serves its purpose in the grand scheme of a story about reinventing one’s purpose in life, on both an individual and societal level. I am also happy that this album didn’t get dragged down by contemporary trends but is a timeless classic instead. Recommended for everyone who wants to feel music!

Recommended tracks: La Poderosa Muerte, Águila Sideral, Sube a Nacer Conmigo Hermano
You may also like: Bacamarte, Pesniary, Guruh Gipsy, El Polen

Related links: Spotify | Wikipedia

Overview of all involved labels: Discogs

Los Jaivas is:
– Gato Alquinta: lead vocals, electric & acoustic guitars, bass, cuatro, siku, quena, ocarina, tarka
– Eduardo Parra: Fender rhodes, Mini-Moog, tarka, handclaps
– Claudio Parra: piano, Fender rhodes, Mini-Moog, harpsichord, marimba, tarka
– Mario Mutis: bass, electric guitar, siku, quena, tarka, vocals
– Gabriel Parra: drums, chimes, marimba, timbales, bombo legüero, trutruca, tarka, handclaps, vocals

With guest artists:
– Alberto Ledo: vocals and all instruments (1): siku, trutruca, trompe, sleigh bells, bombo legüero
– Patricio Castillo: quena (4), tarka (5)

lyrics are all taken from Pablo Nerudo’s Alturas de Macchu Picchu

The post Lost in Time: Los Jaivas – Alturas de Macchu Picchu appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Technical Thrash Metal (Harsh vocals)
Review by: Andrew
Country: Chile
Release date: January 29th, 2021

It’s fast.

That’s usually how I feel about thrash metal. 

With the notable exception of Vektor’s magnum opus Terminal Redux, there really isn’t much in the way of thrash metal, progressive or otherwise, that I find particularly interesting. Fast riffs, shrieky vocals, & blistering chromatic solos, i.e. all the things typically present in any archetypal thrash metal album, just don’t do it for me in that combination. That’s how it usually goes.

Enter Demoniac, Chilean thrashers who, while unfortunately sharing a name with now-defunct prior band of the two DragonForce guitarists, have carved their own unique identity in the metal sphere. Let me start by saying Demoniac without a doubt plays thrash metal. So It Goes includes every single aspect of thrash listed above. But what sets So It Goes apart from most other music of the style is how Demoniac incorporates these tropes. Beyond that, Demoniac also shakes things up by twisting in some outside influences which in themselves add an entirely new dimension to their sound. These two factors combine to make So It Goes not only engaging and interesting, but also fresh throughout.

Coming in at just about 40 minutes on the dot, So It Goes absolutely does not overstay its welcome. It begins with a roar with the track “RSV – Fools Coincidence – Testigo”: seven minutes of metally goodness. The guitar here is quintessentially thrash while simultaneously incorporating other sounds to remain varied and engaging. Singer Javier Ortiz comes in with vocals reminiscent of Tom Araya in his heyday but with better enunciation. The first track does not relent, ending with a flashy solo over a frenetic, pulsating rhythm guaranteed to make you bang your head. 

From the moment 2nd track “The Trap” began, I knew this album was special among its peers of its genre. A piano line comes in constantly rising and falling, establishing a ridiculous amount of tension. The piano quickly gives way to the thrash sound seen in the first track, segueing effortlessly from verse to chorus to solo much in the way the first track did. For someone who doesn’t typically enjoy thrash metal all too much, So It Goes was off to a really good start.

Then comes in “Extraviado.” Is that… clarinet???? Demoniac take the uniqueness one step beyond normal by incorporating clarinet — and it works fucking wonderfully. “Extraviado” is merely a glimpse at what Demoniac are able to accomplish with the clarinet; it comes in again in an immensely satisfying way in nearly-20 minute title track “So It Goes.” By the way, I like this trend of bands having one song be half an album’s runtime. It’s bold, but pays off enormously when it works. For So It Goes, it absolutely works. The title track manages to bring together every independent thread from the former four songs and weave them into a magnificent tapestry of technical proggy thrash goodness. Riffs out the wazoo, ripping solos, a bit of lead bass(!), and more of the clarinet I’ve come to love so much. These all come together to truly create a masterpiece of a track. If there’s anything about “So It Goes” I’d change, it would simply be more clarinet — it’s such an underutilized instrument in metal in general and I would love to see more of it.

Demoniac not only avoid the sophomore slump, but they beat it over the head with a crowbar until it begs for mercy. As relative newcomers to the scene, they’ve managed to carve themselves a spot among the great technical thrash bands and I cannot wait to see where Demoniac take their sound next. 

Note: So It Goes initially released on CD in 2020 but came out on streaming services in 2021 so for the purposes of this blog, we are considering it a 2021 release.

Recommended tracks: RSV – Fools Coincidence – Testigo, Extraviado, So It Goes
Recommended for fans of: Vektor, Kreator, Cryptic Shift
Final verdict: 8.5/10

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

Label: Edged Circle Productions – Bandcamp | Website | Facebook

Demoniac is:
– Javier Ortiz (vocals, guitars)
– Nicolas Young (guitars)
– Rodrigo Poblete (drums)
– Vicente Pereira (bass)

The post Review: Demoniac – So It Goes appeared first on The Progressive Subway.