Artwork by: Albert Bierstadt (1868); Layout by: Annick Giroux

Style: Epic Doom Metal, Folk Metal, Heavy Metal (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Unleash the Archers, Cirith Ungol, Visigoth
Country: Illinois, United States
Release date: 27 June 2025

Growing up, I was all about fantasy, especially in my metal. Themes of wonder and romance, mythical beasts and steadfast warriors filled my imagination. Yet these days, I’ve found it harder and harder to connect with this formerly potent musical leyline. Call it a reflection of the times. I still love the bands I grew up with—the Kamelots, Symphony Xs, and Dios—and I’ve flirted with some newer makes and models (Unleash the Archers has done some fantastic work in the space). But, as we’ve marched closer towards dystopia, tales of adventure seem perhaps churlish compared to the angst and uncertainty permeating our modern world. Sauron is winning, and the Fellowship is splintered over a culture war.

Yet there’s a part of me that yearns to believe in heroes of might and magic once more. Which brings us to Chicagoan heavy metal warband, Fer de Lance (not to be confused with the Peruvian thrashers of the same name). Coming onto the scene only five years ago with their Colossus EP, and debut full-length The Hyperborean in 2022, the band have flown completely under my radar until now. They peddle in “epic doom”—basically, fantasy-fuelled, mid-paced heavy metal full of lurching, heroic riffs and deliberate kitwork, like a steadfast march towards glory and gold. Taken in by the gorgeous cover art of latest album, Fires on the Mountainside, and intrigued by the promise of the epic doom metal by which Fer de Lance mark their trade, I was eager to see if these mighty men of metal have what it takes to break the curse and return the fire to my fantasy-loving heart.

If ever there was a soundtrack to evoke the sword-and-sorcery, devil-may-care adventuring of Robert E. Howard’s brooding Cimmerian, Conan, and kindred ilk, Fires on the Mountainside makes a strong case for consideration. From minute one, opener (and title track) “Fires on the Mountainside” saunters forth with jaunty guitar and a bard-worthy chorus as frontman MP bellows “I seeee… fires on the mountainside,” tossing in some Woah-ohs for good measure. Flickers of black metal emerge in the bridge as trem-picking and rasped vocals create a sense of descent into danger, showcasing Fer de Lance’s ability to steer the material wherever the greatest adventure lies. At nearly thirteen minutes, “Fires on the Mountainside” is one hell of a way to kick off a record, as it twists and turns and climbs across subgenres, from rousing epic doom, black metal, and glints of folk in the acoustic-strummed guitars that underpin much of the proceedings. MP’s range is impressive as he plumbs the depths of rattling growls, tough-guy gravel, all the way to the high-fantasy heights of falsetto wails.

What follows across the album’s forty-nine minutes sees the band pull from much of the same arsenal—though like the aforementioned Conan, they’ve descended from their wind-swept kingdom well-versed in their chosen arts, as no two songs sound the same. Take “Fire & Gold” with its Western-infused musical gallop, hand tambourines and stomping drums heralding a lone stranger’s ride into the kind of town where violence and virtue may yet clash, the dusty road stained black with an enemy’s blood under the white-hot bake of high noon. The chorus of “Death Thrives (Where Walls Divide)” sees MP’s harshes hit a vicious cadence akin to Legion of the Damned frontman Maurice Swinkels, giving the song an extra dose of theatrical menace before shifting into Eastern-influenced guitar wizardry of a most fine kind. MP finds some Ronnie James Dio-adjacent power in the vocals on “The Feast of Echoes,” leaning into some fun “mhmmmhmms” that make me think of a testosterone-fueled version of Rainbow.¹

Elsewhere and everywhere, I’m reminded in small ways of Eternal Champion, mostly in the band’s full-fledged commitment to the material. Fires on the Mountainside is refreshing: Unlike some fantasy-themed bands who write with their tongues planted firmly through cheek (and thus dabbling in irony-poisoned cringe), Fer de Lance write and perform their music with an unabashed, shameless love for the fantasy genre—theatrical, yes, but taken seriously. The songs are rousing, with full-chested deliveries and a palpable energy, despite the more moderate pacing. My only real complaint about the album is that some of the songs drag on a tad too long, and after a while I tend to forget where I am on the record. This is the kind of album that would absolutely thrive on a playlist. The songs are replete with fun transitions showcasing the music’s textures, which provide each track with individual merit. Yet together, Fires on the Mountainside loses some of its energy, the blazing bonfire giving ground to the encroaching shadows of distraction. By the time we reach “Tempest Stele,” the storm has turned into more of a gust and my legs ache for want of resting.

All said, Fer de Lance have come out of (subjectively) nowhere to impart upon mine ears a winsome collection of epic tales. In a day and age where fantasy-themed metal has largely been relegated to my rearview, Fires on the Mountainside stands as a perfect reminder that there are still bands out there writing the kind of stuff I crave—and new ones, at that! Like my current reading experience with Robert E. Howard’s The Coming of Conan the Cimmerian, Fires on the Mountainside offers a collection of well-crafted gems worthy of uncovering—perhaps best individually, rather than in one fell swoop. If you’ve been starved for metal of a steelier order, or just on the lookout for something new, then heed that yonder firelight in the distance, and let Fer de Lance take you on a glorious adventure.

Recommended tracks: Fires on the Mountainside, Death Thrives (Where Walls Divide), The Feast of Echoes
You may also like: Eternal Champion, Sumerlands, Conan
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Cruz de Sur Music Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Fer de Lance is:
– Rüst (bass, acoustic guitars, vocals, percussion)
– MP (vocals, guitars, keyboards)
– Scud (drums, vocals)
– J. Geist (guitars)

1.  I would love to hear Fer de Lance cover “Gates of Babylon.” ︎

The post Review: Fer de Lance – Fires on the Mountainside appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: technical death metal, death metal, progressive death metal (mostly harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Allegaeon, Psycroptic, Gorod, Soreption
Country: Mexico
Release date: 2 May 2025

We all love our Viking and pirate metal¹, but there are other badass peoples with awesome aesthetics just begging for albums to be made about them. The Aztecs were a metal people. The Sun god Huitzilopochtli (also the war god) demanded human sacrifice, which priests performed by the thousands in massive rituals, tearing out the still-beating hearts of the victims atop ceremonial pyramids. To obtain so many slaves to sacrifice, warfare was a constant in their society, driving the Aztecs to conquer their neighbors as an expansionist empire, all to satiate their god’s desire for blood. Kalaveraztekah, an up-and-coming death metal band from Aguascalientes, Mexico, tap into the Aztec aesthetic² on their sophomore album Nikan Axkan. Do Kalaveraztekah have Huitzilopochtli favor?

To set the stage for Aztec slaughter, Nikan Axkan sees Kalaveraztekah incorporate a healthy dose of regional folk music into their muscly tech death—pre-Hispanic indigenous instruments and percussion including ocarinas, flutes, conch shell horns, the ehecachichtli (Aztec death whistle), and the huehuetl (type of hand drum)³. With such ambitious syncretisms, the fear is always that the traditional instruments will be a gimmick, detached from the metallic core. Thankfully, Kalaveraztekah nail the stylistic clash, Óscar Dávila’s percussion specifically; beating away in tandem with Kalaveraztekah’s metal drummer, Julio C. Rivera, Dávila brings a polyrhythmic swagger to Nikan Axkan, as well as a ceremonial vibe. Besides the occasional, isolated folk section (to start the album on “Nikan Axkan – El Aquí y el Ahora,” at the end of “Tlazolteotl – La Devoradora de Inmundicia”), the whistles, flutes, and ocarinas merely take on a background role, providing ominous atmosphere behind the riffs with haunting, muted screams. The indigenous Mesoamericans weren’t messing around creating instruments ideal for metal.

While Kalaveraztekah manage to meld their folk and metal instruments impressively, the metal is woefully bland, especially when compared with the only other prominent Aztec-themed tech death band, Impureza, who sound like Beyond Creation with added flamenco and traditional percussion. Kalaveraztekah are death metal, mostly sticking to a mid-paced groove which works well with the exotic percussive elements but doesn’t create engaging riffs. The tones are all pretty standard, cookie-cutter death metal, not taking advantage of having both a lead and rhythm guitarist; lead guitarist Luigi V. Ponce’s (Indepth) “techy” parts are relegated to regrettably predictable arpeggios; and the bass playing of René Alpízar gets lost in an overly loud drum master. The production does no favors to Kalaveraztekah, making their music sound much more one-dimensional than it is—I want to hear those layers of folk and metal in their glory. 

Nikan Axkan works best at its strangest and spookiest—the centerpiece for me is clearly “Yowaltekuhtli – Un Sueño en la Oscuridad.” Ponce’s techy arpeggiation is at its best to start the track, and he even includes a slick clean guitar solo reminiscent of Stortregn. Yet what differentiates the track from the rest of Nikan Axkan is a dramatic spoken word performance, the female performer’s fright coming through even though it’s difficult to understand the lyrics. The extended noodly soloing to finish out the track also has much more energy than the more blah death metal Kalaveraztekah write on the rest of the album. I’m left wishing the band wrote more tracks with such flair.

Although birthed in the industrial hellhole of Birmingham, United Kingdom, metal is a global music like few others, and hearing bands put their local touch on the genre is a wonderful thing, especially when done well. And Nikan Axkan is a compelling fusion of metal with the traditions of Aguascalientes; that’s the hard part, and the band has nailed it. With a couple adjustments to the death metal side of the band, Kalaveraztekah can release something great while paving the way for more Aztecian death metal. So while I probably wouldn’t stage my next human sacrifice with Nikan Axkan as the soundtrack, the album sure inspired me to consider following Huitzilopochtli and to sacrifice my enemies to keep the Sun happy.

Recommended tracks: Tonalli Nawalli – La Esencia y el Espíritu, Yowaltekuhtli – Un Sueño en la Oscuridad, Xiuhmolpilli – El Amanecer del Nuevo Sol
You may also like: Impureza, First Fragment, Indepth, The Chasm, Moral Collapse, Acrania, Stortregn
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: independent

Kalaveraztekah is:
– Julio C. Rivera (vocals)
– Luigi V. Ponce (guitars)
– Julio Alpízar (guitars)
– Óscar Dávila (pre-Hispanic instruments, percussion)
– René Alpízar (vocals, bass)

1. Ok, I certainly do not love my pirate metal. ︎
2. Interestingly, Aguascalientes was never under Aztec rule but rather the Chichimeca tribes whom the Aztecs considered equally as badass as themselves, although primitive culturally. Read about the tribes here. ︎
3. This is not confirmed, but from my research and listening, I believe that it is a mix of these instruments. ︎

The post Review: Kalaveraztekah – Nikan Axkan appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Melodic black metal, folk metal, dark folk (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Agalloch, Panopticon, Ulver, Saor
Country: Utah, United States
Release date: 17 September 2010

The Cascadian black metal movement birthed many artists who reflect on nature through a Romantic framework. Agalloch traverse snowy landscapes, looking on at modern society through sorrowful eyes and a yearning for ancient mythologies; Wolves in the Throne Room bring these mythologies to life through incantation and reflective rituals; and Ash Borer cling on to the natural world as they anticipate our impending doom. Being from Salt Lake City, Utah, multi-instrumentalist Jake Rogers’ Gallowbraid project is geographically removed from the Cascadian black metal scene, but his heart is planted firmly in the scene’s aesthetics, style, and ideals. Singular opus Ashen Eidolon evokes the same heartbreak as Agalloch, taps into the same desire to ‘just become one with the moss’ as WITTR, and ruminates on the same fears of death as Ash Borer, all in a concise and urgent folk/black metal package.

Ashen Eidolon follows in the footsteps of Agalloch‘s landmark debut, Pale Folklore: mournful arpeggiation meets mid-paced crunchy guitars, melodic tremolos, and a raspy, world-weary vocal delivery. Intertwining the gravelly and heavy sensibilities are much lighter elements, like acoustic guitar, flute, and clean group vocals. The quieter moments carved out by folk instruments not only work as contrast against the black metal ideas, but are a force unto their own, acting as a springboard for explosive climaxes on the two extended tracks and leading along the pensive “Autumn” interludes. Compositions are nonlinear in structure, stringing along a series of contemplations that build into a larger narrative. Filtered through the lens of a golden Autumn forest, a Gothic Romanticism seeps through the album’s painful recollections of loved ones past (“Ashen Eidolon”) and the unease of coming to terms with one’s own death (“Oak and Aspen”).

Though undoubtedly imposing in scope, Ashen Eidolon dials back the cinematic approach of its predecessors in exchange for additional heft in its compositions. Each piece exudes a weighty kineticism through powerful, forward drum work and an uptempo punch; the end result is a masterful balance of plaintive heartbreak and fervent chthonic energy. “Ashen Eidolon” in particular opens with a roiling and hypnotic wall of distorted guitars, tearing through flaxen canopy while remaining grounded by wistful melodic accents. “Oak and Aspen” features soaring arpeggios, chunky drum grooves, and stunning walls of black metal trems, but leans into more melancholy ideas in its climax: the instrumental intensity is dialed back and room is given for Rogers to proclaim a quiet river as his final resting place among the aspen.

The use of folk instrumentation contributes greatly to Ashen Eidolon‘s grandeur, both in the longer tracks and the palate-cleansing acoustic pieces. “Autumn I” bridges the title track and “Oak and Aspen”, offering space to sit and process the opener’s intensity through gentle guitar work, dirging group vocals, and lingering flutes. “Autumn II” acts as an epilogue, its mournful guitars intertwining with warm flutes that hint at the sense of closure brought by the narrator’s death at the end of “Oak and Aspen”. However, Ashen Eidolon‘s most effective use of folk ideas comes about two-thirds through the title track, as ferocious tremolos rip and roar through the forest until they’re given pause by fast-paced, staccato acoustic strumming. The electric guitars and drums respond in kind, mimicking the acoustics and soaring high above the trees in ascendant splendor before gently gliding back into the woods on the backs of doomy chords and haunting clean vocals.

Adorning these arboreal peaks and valleys are reflections on the elegance of Autumn and contemplations on the nature of death. The title track takes a stream-of-consciousness approach to its lyricism, lines like ‘Gold and ochre / behold the tapestry of the Fall / There is a beauty, a certain subtle grandeur / In the withering that consumes us all’ ruminate on the ephemeral qualities of life through the lens of changing seasons. “Oak and Aspen”, on the other hand, is more story-driven, Rogers at first frustrated by his grief but ultimately accepting and even embracing it by the track’s end. Unable to define his sorrow as he watches the seasons pass, he contemplates how the trees that surround him experience death: ‘Do the oaks feel this distant pain? Can the pines offer me relief? / Have the aspens wept with the rain? Does the forest know this untouchable grief?’ The track concludes by finding solace in how death and change are are fundamental connectors of all things and that, even through heartache and suffering, not all is lost: ‘Through words of wind and verse of falling leaves / Its song is one of sorrow and days long past / The time is gone but the memories always last.’

Ashen Eidolon is a testament to death and the myriad ways it manifests as an agent of change. Through high-energy songwriting, evocative Romantic imagery, and earthen folk instrumentation, Rogers reminds us that there is beauty to be found in small moments, in nature’s inevitable decay, and in how our lives and bodies continue on in ways anew after our passing. The added heaviness in Gallowbraid‘s approach gives extra impact to its sentiments and establishes a stunning contrast for both its quieter moments and its climaxes. Even in the most barren of deserts, the spirit of black metal and the misty Cascades live on.

Recommended tracks: Ashen Eidolon, Oak and Aspen, Autumn I
You may also like: Fellwarden, Thrawsunblat, Cân Bardd

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

Label: Northern Silence Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook

Gallowbraid is:
– Jake Rogers (everything)

The post Lost in Time: Gallowbraid – Ashen Eidolon appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Black metal, folk metal (Mixed vocals, mostly harsh)
Recommended for fans of: Moonsorrow, Saor, Dissection, Immortal
Country: Finland
Release date: 28 February 2025

We’ve all been there: you’re out enjoying your commune-with-nature, and all of a sudden, a bunch of bishops stroll into town and try to upend your way of life. Those guys are absolute jerks, thinking they can come in without fanfare and force you into a completely new belief system. Wouldn’t it just be better if they, I don’t know, were chased into the forests to the north? The people of 13th-century Finland can’t help but agree, and black metal outfit Havukruunu are here to recount the story of how the Tavastians reclaimed their pagan traditions on latest record Tavastland. Will you revel in their tale, or is this a piece of history best left forgotten? 

Havukruunu’s brand of pagan black metal is reminiscent of fellow Finns Moonsorrow, composing tracks with a base of anthemic riffage and extended instrumental breaks. On Tavastland, they adorn their sound with any number of cinematic embellishments, typically through group chanting (“Yönsynty”, “Unissakävijä”), larger-than-life solos (“Kuolematon Laulunhenki”, “De Miseriis Fennorum”), or folk interludes (”Kuoleman Oma”, “Havukruunu ja Talvenvarjo”). Tavastland’s compositions are fairly unstructured, preferring to wander from riff to riff while retaining a central mood, though opener “Kuolematon Laulunhenki” makes a point to reprise its opening ideas at its end. Through voice-overs accompanied with a haunting owl-like flute, the album recounts vignettes from the villagers’ perspective just before the exile of Tavastia’s bishops in the 13th century.

When working within a less structured songwriting framework, moment-by-moment interest becomes paramount to retaining the listener’s attention. Havukruunu by and large succeed at this on Tavastland, particularly when leaning fully into aggressive black metal passages. “Kuolematon Laulunhenki” utilizes a bevy of playing styles to maintain interest, adding lightning-speed flourishes to the opening ideas and effortlessly transitioning from chunky mid-paced riffage to a chilling solo later in the track. “Havukruunu ja Talvenvarjo” features some of Tavastland’s best riffs, iterating on an ethereal and hypnotic motif that begins as an impassioned trek across a moonlit snowy forest and ends contemplative and heartbroken. Closer “De Miseriis Fennorum” effectively utilizes a similar trick in its middle section, recontextualizing spellbinding tremolos over a series of morphing drum patterns, each giving the riff a distinct feel and creating a sense of motion while staying in the same place melodically. The final moments of “De Miseriis Fennorum” are distinctly free-form with a wall of buzzing guitars and strings giving way to a lonely wind, alluding to the slow and icy death of the exiled Tavastian bishops.

Strong guitarwork comprises the core of Tavastland’s sound: a track’s success is contingent on the success of its riffs. Conversely, this means that when the riffs don’t work, the songs don’t quite work either, as the undeniably enjoyable folk facets aren’t quite able to hold up Havukruunu’s compositions alone. As a consequence, about half of Tavastland’s tracks are wholly adrenaline-pumping forays into the harsh wilderness, and the other half are one part spectacular and one part serviceable at best. This dip in excitement typically happens when the band slows down, as their ability to write more languid pieces doesn’t entirely stand toe-to-toe with their faster, more aggressive moments. “Yönsynty”, for example, features a spectacular beginning with gorgeous riff-chant interplay, but loses steam by its end at the hands of relatively anonymous riffage. “Kuoleman Oma” suffers the same problem in reverse: the track takes a bit too long to build momentum around its acoustic beginnings, though it closes on an ascendant solo that charges headfirst into tumbling and powerful guitar melodies. Additionally, the track features gorgeously intertwining acoustic guitar and bass halfway through, showing that the band are indeed capable of writing compelling passages both fast and slow.

Embellished by somber folk instrumentation and a menacing historical retelling, Tavastland rarely takes a break from its unrelenting wintry assault. When leaning into its more aggressive tendencies, the album shines the most, expertly iterating and recontextualizing riffs in a free-form songwriting framework. Though Tavastland never descends into unlistenability, its noticeable lulls do cause the experience to drag at times. Nonetheless, Havukruunu have once again proven their acumen for black metal songwriting and demonstrated themselves as worthy bearers of the crown of pinecones.

Recommended tracks: Havukruunu ja Talvenvarjo, Kuolematon Laulunhenki, Tavastland, De Miseriis Fennorum
You may also like: Ungfell, Thrawsunblat, Cân Bardd, Fellwarden
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Svart Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Havukruunu is:
– Stefa (vocals, guitars, keyboards)
– Bootleg-Henkka (guitars)
– Humö (bass)
– Kostajainen (drums)

The post Review: Havukruunu – Tavastland appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Folk metal, epic doom metal (Mixed vocals, mostly clean)
Recommended for fans of: Eluveitie, Summoning, Krux
Country: Sweden
Release date: 14 February 2025

Do you ever long for ‘the good old days’? Back when we all had to walk uphill in the snow both ways to get anywhere and ‘microplastics’ were just a fancy name for your soldier figurines? Maybe you want to go back even further than that: perhaps you long to be elegantly memorialized in a Renaissance painting, or you just want to wear the cool bird mask without people thinking you’re weird. Well, Swedish band Apocalypse Orchestra has got you covered! Their latest album, A Plague Upon Thee, aims to evoke the grandeur and direness of living in Medieval times through epic doom metal led by folk instruments. Will you be down with A Plague Upon Thee’s sickness, or will it leave you homesick for the here and now?

A Plague Upon Thee features a style of doom metal that lives and dies by the hurdy gurdy, acting in place of lead guitars and forming the central melody of virtually every track. A bevy of other folk instruments are used as well, including bagpipes and mandolas, but they more often than not play a supporting role in the songwriting. Guitars make themselves known as well and are mostly used to add rhythmic texture to pieces, save for a few tracks where they take on a more prominent role (“From the Athanor”, “Glass and Sun”). One would expect dire and foreboding metal fitting of an unstoppable pestilence based solely on the album art and title, but A Plague Upon Thee opts instead for climactic grandeur through enormous choruses and mystical churning melodies. Dynamics are the main songwriting tool, whether pieces wax and wane as a singular unit (“Virago”) or oscillate between quieter and more explosive moments (“Glass and Sun”).

The use of hurdy gurdy as a leading instrument is a magnificent idea given its versatility: its ability to both drone and create melody means that it can be used for anything from evoking a powerful hypnotic ambiance to creating an ineffable danciness. On A Plague Upon Thee, it teeters back and forth between droning atmospherics (“Virago”, “Glass and Sun”) and melodic focus (“Tempest”, “Anchorhold”, “Saint Yersinia”¹), adding ornamentation where necessary. On opener “Virago”, the hurdy gurdy even gets its own solo, becoming much more active and hitting a noticeably higher register; on the bridge of “Tempest”, it becomes fervent and heavily ornamented, accompanied by a powerful harsh vocal performance. The hurdy gurdy and other folk instruments come across a bit ‘clean’ on A Plague Upon Thee in that they sound immaculately performed without any blemishes or imperfections, in the process stripping them of their ‘organic’ feeling. While this isn’t necessarily a problem as it creates a charming Runescape feel and is likely a necessity to prevent the otherwise maximal layering from becoming too crowded, it does cause some of the folk instrumentation to blend together and makes distinguishing one from another challenging.²

A Plague Upon Thee’s biggest ail, however, involves breaking out of the songwriting mold that is established in the first couple tracks: virtually every track follows a similar structure and the folk instrumentation takes on a very narrow sonic palette. On “Virago”, for example, the hurdy gurdy oscillates between mystical droning and melodicism in a grand and epic songwriting framework; following track “Tempest” has the hurdy gurdy oscillating between mystical droning and melodicism in a grand and epic songwriting framework; after that, “Glass and Sun” uses the hurdy gurdy to… you get what I’m going for. Every song on A Plague Upon Thee is without a doubt fabulously executed, but the repetition over its runtime contaminates the infectious atmospheres, and by “Sacrament of Avarice”, I’m quite tired of hearing the instruments used in the exact same way again. Even the penultimate interlude “To Arrive” sounds like a truncated version of the more extended pieces.

“From the Athanor” introduces some much-needed variety into A Plague Upon Thee by using guitar as the songwriting focus, featuring a bona fide solo that isn’t restrained by the melodic palette of its accompanying folk instruments. The occasional use of harsh vocals also keeps things fresh, particularly on “Tempest” and “Saint Yersinia”, where they are thoughtfully accompanied by more tense and fervent instrumental passages. Furthermore, Many of A Plague Upon Thee’s more interesting ideas struggle to support the album as a whole but are wonderful when the tracks are listened to individually, including the dueling guitar-bagpipe solo on “Glass and Sun”, the particularly striking chorus of “Saint Yersinia”, and the delightfully skipping ornamentation of “Anchorhold”.

It’s hard to deny the sheer brilliance of Apocalypse Orchestra’s conceit, as their hurdy-gurdy-led epic doom instantly lends itself to the grandest of Medieval fantasy soundscapes. However, safe songwriting along with a touch of instrumental sterility prevents A Plague Upon Thee from fully embodying the dramatic punch it reaches for. Should Apocalypse Orchestra experiment a bit more within the (relatively loose) confines of their instruments and lean fully into the organic imperfections that give them character, they will have a record that not only sounds great on a playlist, but also comes across as a complete package. I wouldn’t say to avoid A Plague Upon Thee like, well, the plague, but it does not get a wholehearted recommendation from me unless you are positively dying for Medieval metal.

Recommended Tracks: Virago, Saint Yersinia, Tempest
You may also like: Caladan Brood, Saor, Capilla Ardiente
Final verdict: 6.5/10

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

Label: Despotz Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Apocalypse Orchestra is:
– Erik Larsson (vocals, cittern, guitars, lute, mandola)
– Mikael Lindström (bagpipes, hurdy gurdy, rauschpfeife, nyckelharpa, vocals)
– Rikard jansson (bass, vocals)
– Andreas Skoglund (drums, vocals)
– Jonas Lindh (guitars, vocals)

1. This is a particularly fun play on words: Yersinia is the genus of bacterium that causes Bubonic Plague, named after Alexandre Yersin, the 19th century doctor who discovered it. ︎
2. Apocalypse Orchestra’s bandcamp notes that they utilize ‘theatrical performances, sometimes actors and dancers, fire, and projected animation’ during their live performances. I can only imagine they have an incredible live show, not just because of the visual interest noted above, but because the live setting would really allow the folk instrumentation to shine. ︎

The post Review: Apocalypse Orchestra – A Plague Upon Thee appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Avant-garde metal, folk metal, witchcore (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Sepultura, Ok Goodnight, Orphaned Land
Country: India
Release date: 12 Feb 2025

The annals of progressive metal history are littered with concept albums that stumble and falter under the weight of ideas too heavy for the composition, lyrics, production, or delivery to support. For every Metropolis Pt. 2: Scenes from a Memory or Operation: Mindcrime, there are dozens of lesser albums that tried to do too much. Concept albums can be something of an all-or-nothing affair; depending on how ambitious and pervasive the concept is, listeners may have a hard time appreciating the music without buying into the whole package.

So, how should modern metal bands thread this needle? Do too much, and listeners will bemoan the overwrought tackiness; do too little and they’ll be at your throat for not breaking the mold. What to do? Well, if you’re Mumbai-based Serpents of Pakhangba, you—deep breath in— release Air and Fire, an album telling the story of an endangered shamanic tribe under attack from a corrupt political group, divided into chapters and featuring spoken word; English, Japanese, Manipuri¹, and Goalparia² lyrics; throat singing; rapping; singing bowl; violin; and a host of guest musicians on various traditional instruments. What could go wrong?

Surprisingly, not much. Serpents of Pakhangba are a roaring engine with only a few cylinders misfiring. Air and Fire’s highs handily outpace its few lows, earning the band’s self-ascribed labels of avant-garde metal and shamanic music with aplomb.

A spiritual, shamanic concept is baked into Serpents of Pakhangba’s entire ethos as a band; they begin each of their albums with an invocation of Pakhangba, a traditional Manipuri deity often represented in the form of a dragon. The band’s promotional materials make it clear that they consider this ritualistic, ancestrally-attuned premise equally as important as the heavy elements in their music. 

Perhaps it’s not surprising, then, that Serpents of Pakhangba wait until Air and Fire’s fourth track, “Carnivorous”, to remind us that this is also a metal album. Here, the frenzied, almost jarringly heavy introduction calls to mind some of Ok Goodnight’s heavier moments, until, out of nowhere, there is a rap interlude. The track rights course soon after, including seething guest growls by Mallika Sundaramurthy (Emasculator).

The musicianship of the many contributors on Air and Fire shows very few cracks. At the forefront, Hinoki on lead vocals delivers a smouldering performance. She traverses a husky mid-range, almost Gollum-like rasps (“North of Koubru”), and sedulously enunciated spoken word with ease, though her voice does thin slightly in the upper register. The one counterpoint to this fully committed delivery is that it can read a bit parodic—there are times when the spoken word reminds me of Calypso, the voodoo practitioner/goddess from Pirates of the Caribbean. Also on vocals, Akash’s Mongolian throat singing is foundational to the band’s tribal folk metal sound, at times crossing over into guttural almost-growls (“Fury”).

Air and Fire also features a long list of instruments, some familiar to Western metal listeners and others less so. Whether it’s a brief but incisive bass solo (“Carnivorous”), the mono-stringed Manipuri pena featured on several tracks, or the violin going off on wild tears—at its best (“A Wounded Leader’s Last Stand”) somewhat reminiscent of the cello in Leprous when it goes really nuts—each instrument is showcased with reverence. No single track shows off this diversity better than eight-minute “North of Koubru”, a highlight of the album. The pena at the 46-second mark soars, primal and plaintive, and the vocals that join in soon after in traditional Manipuri are timeless and haunting. The guitars and drums blast unforgivingly under it all, before relenting to a single pulsing drumbeat. Onto this, the band carefully stacks back each element—singing bowl, throat singing, guitars, pena, synths—until the towering wall of sound is rebuilt.

Outside of traditional instrumentations, the album also employs atmospherics to vivid effect: chirping birds and a fly buzzing in “Ancient Forest”, or the flowing water in “The Soul of the Word”, which weaves a sparse yet evocative background for the chanting vocals alongside monotonic strings and ringing bells,. Even listening to the album while buried under a metre of snow somewhere in the unending Canadian winter, I can almost breathe in the thick, rain-soaked air of the forest and its sacred trees in monsoon season.

While little fault can be taken with the performances on the album, some creative choices, such as the rapping, fall flat. Just because you can have a nu-metal moment, doesn’t mean you should. Additionally, Air and Fire’s pacing is a little off from a narrative perspective. Of the four spoken-word interludes on the album, three come in the album’s first five tracks, but then they disappear until a final brief interlude in “Air and Fire (Part I)” (which, also, does not have a part two). With most listeners relying on the English lyrics to situate themselves in the narrative, there is no true resolution to the story. The penultimate track “A Wounded Leader’s Last Stand” tees us up for a denouement that never comes, as the album closer “Soraren Chant” offers only a few non-English lyrics before ending in a fade-out (booo), leaving the listener to guess at the tale’s ending.

Does Air and Fire occasionally miss the mark? Certainly, but if the band was doing anything less, they wouldn’t be Serpents of Pakhangba. Their reverential fusion of shamanic spirituality and roiling heavy ingredients is one-of-a-kind; you should sort of know what you’re getting into when the t-shirts for sale on a band’s website come with incense included. With a fine-tuned distillation of the creative highs displayed on Air and Fire, in combination with the already formidable musicianship on display, I could see the next album from Serpents of Pakhangba being truly monumental.

Recommended tracks: Invocation of Pakhangba, Fury, North of Koubru
You may also like: Dub War, Amogh Symphony, Kartikeya, Grorr

Final verdict: 6.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Independent

Serpents of Pakhangba is:
– Hinoki: Vocals
– Akash: Vocals, singing bowl, synth, samples/turntable
– Varun: Drums, percussion
– Tamara: Violin, vocals
– Mousumi: Bass
– Vishal: Guitar, dotara, vocals, synth, symphonic orchestral arrangement

1. A Tibeto-Burman language spoken in India’s northeastern Manipur region. ︎
2. A dialect comprising multiple Indo-Aryan languages, spoken in Assam, also in northeastern India. ︎

The post Review: Serpents of Pakhangba – Air and Fire appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Folk metal, progressive metal (clean vocals, Spanish lyrics)
FFO: Salduie, Rata Blanca, Alestorm
Country: Argentina
Release date: 31 Jan 2025

The South American continent has a famously passionate relationship with heavy metal¹. Titans of every notable metal subgenre have spoken in interviews about the ardent dedication of South American fans; the breathless, crowding enthusiasm displayed by cheering masses in those countries. And you can see and hear it for yourself in live concert videos: whether it’s Nightwish or Iron Maiden, bands stirring masses of fans into such zealous devotion that they even sing along with the guitar solos. Inextricable from this fervent fandom is the fact that around the dawning of the age of heavy metal, many South and Latin American countries faced financial crises, authoritarian governments, and harsh living conditions. Some South American bands ventured into these perilous waters to tell true-to-life stories of their own, exploring lyrical themes grounded in the histories of their own countries, and laying the groundwork for a continental metal subculture that marries heavy music with lived experiences. 

Onto this reverently set stage, welcome Arraigo. On their third full-length album, Crioyo, the band is here to illustrate what happens when you grab some gritty, down-to-business riffs, Argentinian cultural themes, and traditional instruments—such as the bombo legüero and charango, lilting tango-inspired rhythms, and richly harmonized vocal lines—and throw them all at the wall to see what sticks. The answer: all of it, and it all makes for a boisterously good time.

The word arraigo means “roots” in Spanish, and indeed, it takes all of twelve seconds for the band to show off their proudly Argentinian roots on “Tierra Adentro”, the album’s opening track. A heavy guitar riff that could easily come from Black Sabbath or the aforementioned Maiden is joined by charango (a member of the lute family) and woodwinds that whistle with a pitch and poignancy that calls to mind a train pulling out of the station, as Crioyo sets its course. 

Vocals are led by Pablo Trangone, whose thick baritone delivery carries the salty grit of a weathered storyteller, captivating regardless of the listener’s knowledge of Argentine history or the Spanish language. But it’s the hearty vocal harmonies that take the effect up a notch. In “Tierra Adentro”, as well as throughout the album (“Un Demonio en el Cielo”, “Claypole”), these choral layers have an almost swashbuckling sound: one can easily imagine singing along to the many contagiously catchy melodies in a tavern with a pint of cerveza in hand. Arraigo also employs a dynamic use of stereo sound that’s overlooked by a lot of modern metal bands, making the vocal phrases feel like a call-and-response dialogue between the storyteller and his audience. And good luck making it through Crioyo without getting one of those infectious melodies stuck in your head; you’ll need it.

Though some tracks (“Gallo Negro”, “Sentires Chamameceros”) allow the folk instrumentations featuring accordion, violin, woodwinds, charango, and more to steer the ship, the album never strays far from its load-bearing heavy metal rudder. Vasco Perret on guitars bridges these elements skillfully, serving up both chugging, rhythmic riffs and sprightly, flamboyant solos that stand toe-to-toe with the gamboling traditional instruments, even in the same track (“Gallo Negro”).

While the instrumental underpinning of Arraigo’s sound is certainly robust and heavy enough to support harsh vocals, “Zamba para Despertar” and “Un Demonio en el Cielo” both feature singular throaty screams that, though they might make sense in the folkloric context of the songs, sit oddly next to the otherwise clean vocal performance. Similarly, sounds of an emergency siren or children playing on a playground (“Un Demonio en el Cielo”) rub anachronistically against the mythos.

In another example of the band not playing fully to their strengths, the gait of some tracks (“Zamba del Carnaval”, “Sentires Chamameceros”) can be a bit plodding, neglecting the danceable music in the album’s DNA. In “Zamba para Despertar”, the band seems to sense this before it happens, kicking the drums into double time with a minute and a half to go. Though there’s no insane shredding on display here, Crioyo’s best moments occur when the band is agile and quick on their feet. Minor quibbles aside, whether it’s the groovy trumpet on “Lejos a Buscarme” or the reverent, ecclesiastical a capella vocals that close out out Crioyo on “Claypole”, Arraigo keeps throwing more at that improbably crammed wall. Knowing that it all still sticks, the band swaggers confidently across the finish line.

Arraigo’s deeply-rooted pride in their homeland of Argentina is clearly foundational to their sound and storytelling. Crioyo’s album cover is essentially just a weathered Argentinian flag with the sun in the middle replaced with the album name. The love and passion for heavy metal on display from Arraigo, shared by so many of their South American peers, is matched only by their deep and solemn esteem for their country. Crioyo wears its heart on its sleeve, and the result is a spirited, diverse album that’s even greater than the sum of its parts.

Recommended tracks: Tierra Adentro, Un Demonio en el Cielo, Lejos a Buscarme

You may also like: Barloventos, Raza Truncka, Conception

Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: Independent

Arraigo is:
– Pablo Trangone: Voice – Derbaque – Leguero
– Mariano “Vasco” Perret: Guitars – Charango – Voice
– Leandro Ramogida: Guitar and Vocals
– Federico Pietro: Drums
– Leonardo Adamini: Bass

1. COME TO BRAZIL ︎

The post Review: Arraigo – Crioyo appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: folk rock, prog metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Angra, Jethro Tull, Mägo de Oz
Country: Peru
Release date: 20 Jan 2025

As a genre, folk metal can transport us to many places—in one moment, we’re Viking warriors, brandishing our battle-axes and swilling mead (Týr); the next, we’re Celtic mystics on a mist-soaked moor (Eluveitie); we could even venture high in the snowy Mongolian mountains (Tengger Cavalry). But on their latest release Cosmos, Flor de Loto’s particular fusion of traditional instrumentation and heavy riffs sees us journey on a road less travelled in the passages of folk metal lore: we’re going to Peru.

Formed in 1998 in Lima, Peru, Flor de Loto (which translates to “Lotus Flower”) have a respectable back catalog of eight studio albums and one EP. They have also worked with a host of well-known featured artists, including Arthur Brown and Fabio Lione. The core of the band’s sound is a rollicking, easy-going blend of ol’ reliable Iron Maiden-esque riffs and Latin American pizzazz. After a handful of instrumental releases early in their career, the band threw vocals into the mix, and the resulting formula would sum up quite nicely even without the secret weapon. But oh yes, Flor de Loto has a secret weapon… or perhaps not so secret, if you paid attention to the FFO at the top of this review: the flute features heavily across the 44-minute runtime of Cosmos, and let’s not mince words: it rips.

Cosmos opens with the short but punchy instrumental track “Exodo”, which introduces the main woodwind instrument on the album: the quena, a traditional Andean wooden flute. The flute melody ambles nimbly over spacey background synths before we launch straight into “(R)evolución”, where bright tenor vocals join the party. By now, we’re getting a pretty good picture of the vivid Andean landscape that we’ll be exploring with Flor de Loto as our tour guides, but they have plenty more to show us.

Ex-Riot singer Mike diMeo opens up the title track, proclaiming ‘Reach the cosmos!’ But why would we want to do that when we’re having so much fun down here in the Incan foothills? As the album continues, Checho Cuadros on woodwinds has a few more tricks up his sleeve: employing different sounds and techniques, including circular breathing, the woodwind element on Cosmos continues to delight. Instrumental tracks shine: “Ecos del Pasado” is a whirlwind of pirouetting interplay between woodwinds and stringed instruments, and “Ahorita Voy” begins with a muted pan flute solo before treating the listener to bending and twisting melodies overtop jazzy Erroll Garner-esque organ stylings. It’s hard to say whether these tracks are so strong in spite of the lack of vocals, or because of it. Alonso Herrera on lead vocals is eminently capable, his delivery smooth and agile, but he can’t quite compete with the quena.

Cosmos contains many instances where flutes and guitar either double up or trade back and forth on solo passages (“Cosmos”, “Reino del Dolor”). Individual melodies frolic and gambol charmingly, but, in keeping with our cosmic theme, the fourth pane of the galaxy-brain meme is never quite reached: I would prefer to have each instrument play off of each other, instead of with each other in unison. In addition, some melodies are chewed past their expiration date, particularly in the tracks with guest vocalists: “Cosmos”, as well as the album closer “Crossfire”, which features Ray Alder of Fates Warning. Maybe the band wanted to make sure their guests had ample time to shine, but both tracks lose their flavour and potency by iterating over the same ideas too many times. Still, interjections by the flute in both songs add a much-needed hit of piquancy to keep things moving.

Over twenty-five years into sharing their craft, Flor de Loto are clearly a musically mature band. They know what they want to say and how they want to say it. Though the woodwinds may sometimes steal the show, strong artistry is on display across the band’s lineup. Fans of all kinds of folk metal would do well to follow along with Flor de Loto, whether into the Cosmos or simply into the jungles of Peru.

Recommended tracks: (R)evolución, Ahorita Voy, Ecos del Pasado 

You may also like: Heroes del Silencio, Sacrificio, Los Jaivas

Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: OSKAR Records – Bandcamp | Official Website

Flor de Loto is:
– Alonso Herrera (Vocals, guitar)
– Lucho Sánchez (Guitar)
– Alejandro Jarrín (Bass)
– Sergio “Checho” Cuadros (Wind instruments)
– Diego Sánchez (Keyboard)
– Álvaro Escobar (Drums)

The post Review: Flor de Loto – Cosmos appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Atmospheric Black Metal, Melodic Black Metal, Folk Metal (Mixed vocals, mostly harsh)
Recommended for fans of: Summoning, Moonsorrow, Dissection, Runescape Music
Country: Italy
Release date: 4 January 2025

Five years is a long time for most anything to happen. In the United States, that’s enough time to get an entire college degree with time to spare, have a child and start them in school, or to completely upend your life through an unexpected turn of events. Five years is also enough time to grow considerably as a musician—Italian black metallers Ashlands have returned after five years to conclude their self-titled Ashlands Trilogy, a story that follows a group of refugees who must traverse a harrowing landscape known as the Ashlands. Let’s investigate Ashlands’ musical arc over the last half decade through their self-titled trilogy – can we and the protagonists make it to safety, or is the five-year destination not worth the journey?

Ashlands’ arc begins with Runescape-style MIDI folk à la Caladan Brood, laying the groundwork for atmoblack passages with hoary harsh vocals and occasional detours into aggressive meloblack riffage. However, Ashlands aren’t content to stay in one place for too long, showing more interest in eschewing repetition, whether it be through pulling off the gas to explore folky compositions (“An Entrance Beneath the Dunes”), giving way entirely to piano to close a track (“Amber”), or meditating on Pink Floyd-style soloing (“Pyre”). Part II expands on Part I’s Gilmour-esque guitar sensibilities (“Morrow”) and its meloblack facets (“Mountain Augurs”), offering the most menacing atmospheres yet explored and taking the most time of any release in the Trilogy to explore folky soundscapes (“As the Skies Rain Eternally”, “Engraved in Black Lava”). Part III shows a slight return to roots, sitting closer in style to Part I but with less of a focus on folk instrumentation along with a more psychedelic and surreal touch (“Celephaïs”).

My biggest takeaway from this trilogy is that Ashlands are spectacular at writing folk passages: they have an acumen for melody that is both memorable and evocative. “An Entrance Beneath the Dunes” opens and closes on gorgeous instrumentation that effuses a medieval atmosphere; “Celephaïs” indulges in pastoral imagery through dreamy acoustic guitar work in its opening moments before later exploring a weird yet intriguing synthy abyss; and “Engraved in Black Lava” presents some particularly memorable folk moments that do the best job across the trilogy of creating interplay between folk and metal moments. Their marriage creates a strong sense of both melody and intensity, allowing Ashlands to engage the listener while remaining true to Part II’s darker story beats. However, metal sections like this are more the exception than the rule: many of the heavier sections across the trilogy leave me wanting. There’s nothing wrong with Ashlands’ riff construction, per se, and it’s even quite compelling at times, like the doomy and mourning guitar work in “Celephaïs” or the aggressive meloblack assault of “Mountain Augurs,” but pieces like “At the Shifting of the Tide” and “Pyre” are plagued by decent-if-unmemorable black metal tremolos.

Where Ashlands struggles the most, however, is bringing all of these elements together, as there is a nagging lack of cohesion across the trilogy that detracts heavily from its memorability, despite the overall positive experience. I would have loved to see more interconnection of ideas, as Ashlands have proven on Part II that they are capable of cohesive songwriting: “Mountain Augurs” cleverly transitions between ideas and stays true to its central focus; “Engraved in Black Lava” follows suit, allowing a little more experimentation in its folky opening moments, but there is a strong logical flow from passage to passage. While thematically the chaotic songwriting of Part III makes sense for its eldritch storyline, compositionally tracks like “At the Shifting of the Tide” swirl around ideas such that the music becomes difficult to follow and disorients in a way that obscures the story being told. Additionally, tracks like “Amber” and “Pyre” from Part I do a less than stellar job of bringing ideas together, while “An Entrance Beneath the Dunes” comes closest to cohesive success through the reintroduction of folk ideas throughout its runtime.

So where does all of this leave us in the present day? Ashlands have plenty of great ideas to share, and their knack for folk songwriting considerably elevates their music. While glimpses of greatness are already present, there is still a bit of work to be done as far as bringing Ashlands’ sensibilities together into a complete package. Regardless of the Ashlands Trilogy‘s strengths or flaws, it is an achievement to finally close off a five-year project of any type, and in that respect, I’m very proud of Ashlands and excited that they have such an undertaking under their belt. Part of me gets the feeling there is still a slight search for identity in Ashlands‘ future, as all three EPs explore ideas in different manners, but their core sound holds a lot of promise, regardless of what direction they plan on going in. My hope is that whatever they do next, they can do it while playing to their strengths as folky soundscape crafters, meloblack writers with a skillful eye for editing, and compelling story writers with the acumen to cohesively bring all their ideas together.

Recommended tracks: Mountain Augurs, Engraved in Black Lava, An Entrance Beneath the Dunes, Celephaïs
You may also like: Caladan Brood, Liljevars Brann, Ungfell, Aquilus
Final verdict: Ashlands I – 6/10; Ashlands II – 7/10; Ashlands III – 6.5/10; Ashlands Trilogy – 6.5/10

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

Label: Independent Release

Ashlands is:
– The Wanderer (guitars, bass, keyboards, vocals)
– The Vanguard (lyrics)

The post Review: Ashlands – Ashlands Trilogy appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Power Metal, Progressive Metal, (vocals)
Recommended for fans of: NanowaR of Steel, Gloryhammer, Tenacious D
Country: Spain
Release date: 17 December 2024

My co-writer Chris is remarkably good at finding music of all kinds—he provided me with not one, but two of my favorite albums of the year and has sent plenty of interesting non-Subway recs my way. But what is most remarkable is how good he is at finding straight-up weird shit: just the other week, he jokingly dropped the latest Kaosis into the chat, to which I wasted no time assembling my review. Well, now, I’m back with more weird shit from the Chris archives. This time, we’re talking about Gigatron’s La Xusta de Zarathustra, an off-the-wall power metal concept album that you have to hear to believe.

Gigatron reside mostly in the world of power metal, but incorporate progressive undertones through their songwriting and mixing of genres: a song can go from traditional power metal into folk metal and finish off with an EDM passage as if these combinations were commonplace. La Xusta de Zarathustra also casts its net wide with respect to the vocals: many different styles are used here to represent different characters, whether it be standard high-energy power metal vocals, high-pitched falsettos, or the copious use of a zany ‘gremlin’ voice reminiscent of that near the end of Native Construct’s “Come Hell or High Water,” but even more shrill and gravelly. In line with the absurd mish-mash of genres and vocal styles is the album’s story, which involves a set of characters unmasking a series of conspiracies perpetrated by the bourgeoisie, whether it be vaccine microchips, AI bots designed to destroy all humans¹, or a Moon colony populated entirely by Nazis. Gigatron took one look at moderation and said, “¡Vete a la mierda!” Thankfully, La Xusta has a fairly down-to-earth spoken word ending that involves the main characters having a feast in Valhalla with notable Norse figures Loki, Lemmy Kilmister, and King Kong.

One can quickly infer that Gigatron are happy to take the piss out of absolutely everything: they positively live for the bit, and will commit to it well beyond the point of enjoyability. La Xusta De Zarathustra is constantly looking for the next moment to interject with something wacky, marring the decent power metal that underlies these frustrating moments. Most songs have a solid foundation that is inevitably ruined by something decidedly obnoxious, whether it be the horrifically shrill flute of “¡Plandemia!,” the techno-glitches of “PutopIA,” or the zany gremlin vocals on virtually every track.² For the first song and a half or so, it’s charming, but it quickly becomes way too much over La Xusta’s runtime. It makes me wonder, am I the joke here? Are Gigatron laughing at me knowing that I’m giving my undivided attention to a shrill goblin talking about Moon Nazis over dance metal beats?³

Despite wanting to tear my hair out on several occasions, it would be completely unfair for me to disregard La Xusta’s compelling instrumentation—though the songwriting is a little weird on tracks like “Distorsión” or “Apócrifus Yisus,” whose ending sections are vastly different than their beginnings, the actual riffage is quite well done. The former has energetic Stratovarius vibes and the latter indulges in satisfying folk ideas before launching into swaggering classic heavy metal. Opener “RulalaXusta” is also quite enjoyable as a folky introduction without too much chaos. Moreover, I have to admit there were sections that broke me down and actually did make me laugh: the inclusion of King Kong in the Valhalla feast caught me off guard, and something about the aggressive German over a cyber metal breakdown on “Nazis en la Luna” was, despite its abject tastelessness, quite silly in a way that I enjoyed.

Gigatron are distinctive power metal songwriters, but where they leave me wanting is in their lack of moderation—I’d like to think I’m not some stick-in-the-mud who wants everything to be brooding and serious, but it definitely grinds my gears when a band commits this hard to bits that weren’t that funny in the first place and subsequently beats them into oblivion. This rings especially true when the bits involve horrifically grating vocals, as much of La Xusta is plagued by. Were the songwriting cleaned up a bit and some balance brought to their execution, I would be much more receptive to La Xusta de Zarathustra, but as it is, I just can’t vibe with its overt wackiness. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to hurry to my goblin voice lessons.

Recommended tracks: RulalaXusta, Distorsión, Apócrifus Yisus
You may also like: Ethmebb, Cheeto’s Magazine, Toehider, Joey Frevola, Blake Hobson
Final verdict: 4/10

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

Label: Independent

Gigatron is:
– Charly Glamour (vocals)
– Dave Demonio (guitars)
– Kike Turulo (bass)
– Johnny Cochambre (drums)

1. Though, I’m pretty sure from the fact that the song in question is called “PutopIA” and that they add a disclaimer at the beginning of their music video that assures none of it is AI-generated that they take a strongly anti-AI stance, which is quite based of them. Y’all know how we feel about AI around here. ︎
2. Though they taint most any song they appear on, they are a particular problem on “Distorsión,” “Nazis en la Luna,” and “¡Plandemia!” ︎
3. What’s even more absurd is that they begin the song about moon nazis with a Wizard of Oz reference. ︎

The post Review: Gigatron – La Xusta de Zarathustra appeared first on The Progressive Subway.