Style: Progressive metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Fates Warning, Symphony X, Opeth
Country: Israel
Release date: 25 July 2025

One of my favorite obscure albums to recommend to people is Orpheus Blade’s debut Wolf’s Cry. Its cinematic songwriting, dark atmosphere, grandiose production values, excellent guitarwork, and a charismatic female/male vocal duet from Adi Bitran and guest singer Henning Basse (Metalium, Legions of the Night) made for a uniquely compelling experience. Ever since I discovered the album, I’ve been eagerly waiting for a follow-up and have regularly harassed a friend of mine who knows the band personally about album no. 2’s status. For years, all he relayed to me was that “IT’S COMING, I SWEAR!”¹ despite absolute radio silence from their social media accounts. This continued until one day Christopher thoughtlessly said on my lunch break “oh btw Sam there’s a new Orpheus Blade out—you should probably review that.” DAMMIT SHACHAR WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY ANYTHING?! THEY ANNOUNCED THIS WEEKS AGO!

Orpheus Blade has undergone quite a transformation since Wolf’s Cry. The only original remaining member is Adi Bitran, who took up about half the vocal duties before. It’s especially a shame to have lost Henning Basse as the dude/dudette vocal duet was one of Wolf’s Cry’s main selling points—I didn’t even realize he was only a guest singer until researching for Obsessed in Red. Gal Ben Haim’s phenomenal guitarwork is also no more; he has been replaced by Yaron Gilad (ex-Tillian) and Danny Aram. Safe to say, the new cast has some very big shoes to fill. 

…they do not. As much as I hate to say it, Obsessed in Red is a step down in nearly every single facet from Wolf’s Cry. Let’s start with the production. Simply put, Obsessed in Red sounds like a demo: weak guitar tones, muffled drums, vocals being unnaturally forward, poor mastering, and just a general lack of any modern polish or sheen make the record sound unpleasantly amateurish and a slog to listen to before any thought is given to the music itself. If you told me that Obsessed in Red came out in 2010, I would have believed you, and even then I still would have called the production mediocre at best. Jacob Hansen, who mixed and mastered Wolf’s Cry, is nowhere to be seen, but it’s clear that he wasn’t adequately replaced and the result is unacceptable for this day and age. 

Still, as a reviewer I cannot let myself be shackled to a bad first impression based on production difficulties. Unfortunately, the songwriting doesn’t rescue Obsessed in Red. The dark cinematic style that made Wolf’s Cry so compelling has been replaced by a much more standard prog/power-ish metal base with some death metal and gothic elements sprinkled on top for garnish. What spark the record has generally comes from these darker components—gnarly tremolo picked riffs (“Unattained”), polyrhythmic double kick drum beats (“Anywhere But Here”, “Unattained”), melancholic guitar leads (“Those Who Cannot Speak”), and impressively monstrous harsh vocals throughout—but they are consistently undermined by the atrocious production and otherwise middling songwriting. The big issue is that the band’s foundational prog/power sound barely inspires. Whether it’s the bland heavy metal main riff from “Of Tales and Terrors”, the middling harmonies in “Anywhere but Here”, or the well-performed but structurally entirely predictable shredding of “My Red Obsessions”, when central components fail, the entire structure crumbles. 

Another central songwriting component that’s lacking is Bitran’s clean vocals, which seem to have deteriorated from Wolf’s Cry. Part of this might be due to the mix, which often makes her sound thin, but on a deeper level her delivery is just a bit meek. The vocal lines themselves are mostly fine and she hits every note cleanly, but she struggles to project her voice with the force and add the necessary grit for a metal band, leading to some particularly bad moments like the chorus of opener “My Arms for Those Wings” (speaking of bad first impressions), or the verses in “Of Tales and Terror”; Henning Basse’s contribution is sorely missed here. She’s much better when she’s not required to project as much, allowing her to showcase a breathy crooning style which works especially well in the softer sections (e.g. the opening of “Nicanor”). Still, her crooning over the band’s relatively straightforward style is a Wolf’s far cry from the debut, where the dark cinematic atmosphere gave her an ideal backdrop to shine. The one unambiguously positive development for the vocals, however, is with the harshes, which have improved in both presence and ferocity. Overall, it makes for a performance that’s competent but rarely commanding—serviceable in the softer or harsher extremes, but disappointingly middling everywhere in between.

If anything, Obsessed in Red feels phoned in, like the band had enough of sitting on this material for so long and said “fuck it, let’s just release the thing.” The uninspired way the album closes out feels emblematic of that—after “Nicanor” culminates in an underwhelming finale, “At Her Feet” concludes the record with nothing but Bitran crooning over a synth backdrop that receives little to no development. The production is equally careless, and technical skill and a few moments of inspiration cannot save the largely lifeless songwriting. It pains me to say, but next to nothing of the vigor and creativity that made Wolf’s Cry so compelling has survived this past decade. My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined.

Recommended tracks: Unattained, Those Who Cannot Speak
You may also like: The Anchoret, Hunted, Terra Odium, Novembre
Final verdict: 4/10

1. Our WhatsApp communication is in all caps—don’t ask me why. ︎

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

Label: Independent

Orpheus Blade is:
– Adi Bitran (vocals)
– Yaron Gilad (guitars)
– Danny Aram (guitars)
– Ido Gal (bass)
– Stivie Salman (bass)
– Nitzan Ravhon (drums)
With guests:
– Davidavi Dolev (backig vocals)

The post Review: Orpheus Blade – Obsessed in Red appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

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: symphonic metal, heavy metal, Byzantine chant (clean vocals, choral)
Recommended for fans of: Batushka, Rotting Christ, Therion, Haggard
Country: Greece
Release date: 6 July 2025

Monastic monophonic chant gets me going: the style of religious music is utterly sublime. After the Great Schism in 1054, the Church split into Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy, and both sects developed their own unique—but overlapping—chant. As a (unfortunately) confirmed Catholic, I had to choose a confirmation name, so naturally, I went with Gregory after my adoration of Gregorian chant. But back to the Byzantine side: the musical and cultural differences of the liturgical style are clearly due to Ottoman influences coming from the East. Rather than evenly tempered Catholic modes, the Byzantine monks used a complex set of eight modes called echoi with microtonal intervals, the vocalists relying on melismas (slides between notes) in opposition to the Catholic monks who stick to full jumps between intervals.

This miniature history/music theory lesson should help frame Greek heavy metaler Δynamis’ debut album Byzantine Metal. The record, as the title so helpfully tells us, merges traditional Byzantine chant with metal. For a debut in a largely untapped realm—Batushka are the only obvious forebear—Byzantine Metal is a successful exploration of the intersection between Orthodoxy and metal. The lyrics are from actual hymns, and the majority of the music is sung in Greek with sing-along choruses in English. The clear highlight chorus is that of “Cherubic Hymn,” the lyrics all about celebrating Hellenic identity.

Vocally, Δynamis fill Byzantine Metal to the brim with wonderful monophonic choral lines provided by a full men’s choir of five, and their melismatic ornamentations to the vocal lines are immediate starting from opener “Kyrie Ekekraxa (Psalm 140).” Naturally, choirs fit in well with the epic vibes metal curates, but the ways in which Δynamis bring the traditional Byzantine chant into something modern and fit for the heavy metal ear is brilliant. The highlight performance on the album is from guest vocalist Billy Vass (on tracks “Kyrie Ekekraxa (Psalm 140),” “Kyrie Eleison,” and “Cherubic Hymn”) whose tone is superb for heavy metal, somewhere in between Tobias Sammet (Avantasia) and Daniel Heiman (Sacred Outcry). But his technique is the highlight, as he perfectly imitates the single melodic line of the choirs underneath him but with the bold, solo singing voice of metal. 

Beyond the strong Hellenic vocals, Δynamis keep the instrumentals high stakes epic with a variety of orchestration and shreddy guitar solos. They follow in the track’s distinct modes and accompany the clean vocal lines exceptionally well at some points (chorus of “Polyeleos (Psalm 135),” intro “Alosis 1453 (Psalm 78)”). When not riffing underneath a chorus, guitarist Bob Katsionis often works in conjunction with the Greek choral quintet to create wonderful buildups—the buildup into the English chorus with Vass in “Kyrie Eleison,” for instance, is one of the most hype and epic buildups I’ve heard this year despite the track’s brevity. However, most of the actual “riffs” on Byzantine Metal are plodding and uninspired, mostly power chords at a lollygagging pace. Of course, the guitars are certainly not Δynamis’ main point of interest, but hearing flashes of their melodic brilliance during most of Byzantine Metal makes the remainder seem disappointing. Having the guitars mostly be relegated to a mildly distorted texture so that the chanting sections remain “metal” is bland songwriting.

A brief aside into music theory-lite again: In opposition to the plainsong style of Gregorian chant which relies on improvised harmonization, Byzantine chant is highly structured although still freeflowing in rhythm and ornamentation. Unfortunately, Δynamis missed this memo as the band aimlessly hop section to section with little sense of cohesive flow. Byzantine Metal drifts through a string of bombastic, often ingenious ideas, but Δynamis easily lose the plot, and often I found a song blowing right by without me noticing much of what happened beyond “wow these are sick chants.”

Byzantine Metal is a history and music theory lesson along with a (in-theory) rad Hellenic heavy metal album all at once, and Δynamis showed off their love for Eastern Orthodox traditions to a whole new audience. With more emphasis on bringing Eastern melody into the guitar rather than relying on drab power chords—while possibly enlisting Vass as a full-time band member—Δynamis may become a powerful force in the powerful Greek metal scene. They’re already a unique one.

Recommended tracks: Kyrie Ekekraxa (Psalm 140), Kyrie Eleison, Alosis 1453 (Psalm 78), Cherubic Hymn
You may also like: Sacred Outcry, Ensemble Sreteniye, Epta Astera, Tim Donahue
Final verdict: 6.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Facebook

Label: independent

Δynamis is:
– Christopher Laskos: (Vocals/Choir, Keyboards, Choir Conducting)
-Bob Katsionis (Guitars/Bass/Keyboards/Drums)
With guests:
– Dimitrios Balageorgos, Athanasios Glaros, Lazaros Koumentakis, Stefanos Koumentakis, Christopher Laskos (choir of chanters)
– Billy Vass (Lead Vocals on tracks 1, 3, 8)
-Kyriakos GP (Guitar solo on track 8)

The post Review: Δynamis – Byzantine Metal appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Painting by Ferdinand Knab
Logo by Ghorn
Layout by Foudre Noire

Style: Hellenic Black Metal, Melodic Black Metal, Heavy Metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Rotting Christ, Necromantia, Varathron
Release date: 17 April 2025

Over the past decade or so, Phil Tougas has become a household name within the broader underground metal scene, lending his myriad of talents to groups across a broad spectrum of styles. Chthe’ilist proved Tougas’ songwriting aptitude; Atramentus and Worm proved his ability to summon compelling atmosphere; and First Fragment launched him handily into the pantheon of extreme shredders. One would think having your nimble fingers stuck in so many pots would scarcely leave time for excursions, yet here we are. Tougas’ latest labor of love appears in the form of Zeicrydeus, in which our multifaceted shredder combines all of his previously mentioned talents with a detour into the realm of Hellenic black metal, though with a few trademark Tougas Twists.

Zeicrydeus is a solo project, with Tougas handling the manifold duties of four string lead bass, vocals, multi-timbral synthesizer, six string guitars, timpani, and drum programming. There are session live drums credited to Chakral (Ascended Dead, VoidCeremony), though I’m not exactly certain where they begin and the programmed drums end. Regardless, La Grande Heresie is a bold (and brash) statement of Tougas’ love for the Hellenic black metal scene, drawing direct inspiration from early Rotting Christ, Necromantia, and Varathron, and infusing this sound with a roaring heavy metal spirit. “Ten Thousand Spears Atop The Bleeding Mountains” fittingly kicks things off with a lyrical homage to Running Wild’s Under Jolly Roger, barreling into an instantly recognizable triumphant Tougas riff and showcasing our first Tougas Twist: a metric shitload of pinch harmonics intertwined right in the middle of fearsome finger acrobatics. Once the high-octane display has run its course, we are introduced to the secondary style that comprises La Grande Heresie: swaggering Manowar-esque USPM riff-craft. The combination of melody driven black metal and scrappy DIY heavy metal aesthetic works wonderfully as a foundational sound whereby Tougas springboards his idiosyncratic stylings.

The second Tougas Twist is the dramatic Summoning-esque atmosphere that is woven into the core of La Grande Heresie. The earlier mentioned multi-timbral synthesizer is put to near constant use, enveloping the sound in an occult haze. Tougas’ melodic phrases coil around themselves, slightly overstaying their welcome on occasion, though theatrical timpani hits help the experience along by accentuating the rhythmic flow like landmarks for the wandering melophile. Rattling chains and the sharpening of blades can be heard periodically accompanying particularly dramatic moments, as if Tougas is quite literally leading a triumphant charge into battle, warhorn replaced by shredding bass solo. Tougas’ vocal performance is similarly arcane, leaning mostly towards a midrange black metal snarl, but occasionally branching out into grunts, yells, and an odd purring technique that is as menacing as it is captivating. The esoteric atmosphere is constantly at odds with the modern technique of Tougas’ playing, one constantly overtaking the other, mirroring the rise and fall of empires. 

As if the varied instrumentation, intense performances, and devouring atmosphere wasn’t already enough to set Zeicrydeus apart, the biggest and best Tougas Twist has been saved for last: formally titled bass solos. La Grande Heresie is unique in that it features bass solos in the stead of guitar solos, and even more unique in that these solos are quite literally christened. From “THE FOUR PRONGED SERPENT PHALANX” featured on “Ten Thousand Spears Atop The Bleeding Mountains” to “HÉRÉSIE TOTALE” and “LA FLAMME DES REBELLES” from “Sous L’Ombre Éternelle Des Vestiges D’Heghemnon”, Tougas’ dedication to crafting a dramatic and entertaining experience seeps all the way into meta territory. Lyrically, the storytelling expands on lore already told in other Tougas projects (Chthe’ilist, Atramentus), adding even further to the meta narrative. La Grande Heresie benefits greatly from Tougas’ imaginative presentation and immense bass talent, though an argument could be made that the everpresent dexterousness becomes slightly masturbatory after a while. The final climax of penultimate track “Godsteel (Blood of the Sun)” allows itself one final indulgence, breaking La Grande Heresie’s own rule and reveling in an epic three-part dueling guitar and bass solo, titled “AIR” and “WATER”, “FIRE” and “ICE”, and “EARTH” and “SKY”. Truly, Tougas’ vision and conceit pays off in satisfying conclusion during this battle, and the listener is left with only howling winds and the reflective melody of the self-titled closing interlude with which to climb down from La Grande Heresie’s peak.

I’ll be the first to admit that Hellenic black metal is a style that has not historically resonated with my own personal tastes outside of a couple of heavy hitters (Macabre Omen, Varathron), so it is always a welcome surprise when an album comes along to challenge my bias. Compositionally, La Grande Heresie is a personally authentic take on the connection between the heavy metal and Hellenic black metal scenes, and while each Tougas Twist is an emotive addition to these styles, they can also become slightly distracting, never quite allowing the listener to fully immerse themselves within the archaic spirit of either genre. Even after a dozen or so listens, I’m still not sure whether I enjoy La Grande Heresie as a Hellenic black metal album proper or, rather, as just another Tougas offering. Nevertheless, Zeicrydeus certainly succeeds in setting itself apart within a long-standing scene, and Tougas’ brash (and bold) flair solidifies La Grande Heresie as a memorable standout of 2025.

Recommended tracks: Ten Thousand Spears Atop The Bleeding Mountains, Godsteel (Blood of the Third Son)
You may also like: First Fragment, Malokarpatan, Chthe’ilist, Thy Darkened Shade
Final verdict: 7.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Metal-Archives

Label: Productions TSO – The Stygian Oath – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Zeicrydeus is:
– Phillipe Tougas (vocals, multi-timbral synthesizer, four string lead bass, six string guitars, timpani, drum programming)
With guests:
– Chakral – Live session drums

The post Review: Zeicrydeus – La Grande Heresie appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Logo and illustration by Jack Sabbat, Ornaments by Joos Melander

Style: Heavy Metal, Black Metal, Progressive Metal (mixed vocals, mostly clean)
Recommended for fans of: Hammers of Misfortune, Negative Plane, Malokarpatan
Country: Denmark
Release date: 28 February, 2025

Have you ever thought to yourself: “Man, swords sure are cool. I just wish they came in a larger variety of shapes and sizes”. If so, why do you talk like that? Also, the year is 2025, and I think I may have an answer to your prayers.

Enter Copenhagen based quintet Scimitar, whose debut album Scimitarium I features an illustration I think you may be veeeery interested in. Oh, they also play music I guess… And it is quite good! Extremely good in fact. Scimitar plays an arcane form of heavy metal with a serious black metal bent not entirely unlike Negative Plane and their ilk. Winding guitar riffs weave through a swarming drum performance as Shaam Larein’s unique lilting vocal performance glides like an apparition over it all. The lead guitar often takes on the role of conveying the primary melody while the vocals support it with their own secondary melody; it is not quite contrapuntal, but the result is faintly similar. The formula on display on Scimitarium I instantly caught my attention, shining like the glint of sharpened steel that comprises the blade of a certain shape of sword.

Scimitarium I opens with its title track, starting with a dissonant riff that is deceptively catchy and works as a great tag to set expectations and the mood for the entire album. The track ends as this riff simultaneously implodes in on itself and explodes into “Aconitum”, wasting no time to flex Scimitar’s sharp structuring and songwriting skills. Long-winded serpentine riff phrases create space for plenty of variation and smart use of harmonic interplay during repeated sections. Each and every idea is taken to its logical conclusion, then taken there again down a different contextual path within the song. The result is that Scimitar can rely on only a few of their strongest ideas, streamlining the listening experience without losing the esoteric nature at the heart of their sound. “Aconitum” is perhaps the strongest and most straightforward example of this; the chorus has a great lead guitar melody that can be superimposed over the entire rest of the track, fitting in perfectly the entire time, and showcasing just how deeply Scimitar understands their strengths and the skill with which they are able to utilize them.

Besides general songwriting prowess, Shaam Larein’s vocal performance is the primary highlight of Scimitarium I for my tastes; she’s great at crafting arcane melodies that are equal parts catchy and esoteric, able to get stuck in your head without taking away from the occult atmosphere. Larein often uses her voice more texturally than as a vehicle for delivering melody, but very rarely does she flip fully into screaming. Particularly effective is how she regularly switches into her falsetto at the end of phrases, giving her performance a feeling of spectral uneasiness. Even while Larein is singing, her syllable placement and the pacing of her phrases are more in line with a harsh vocal performance, further bridging the gap and muddying the waters between Scimitar’s sharp black metal edge and heavy metal spirit. 

Those who are familiar with Slægt’s particular mix of black and heavy metal will mostly know what to expect from the instrumental side of Scimitar’s performance, given that the two groups share three members between them. For those who aren’t, Slægt play a heavy metal infused form of melodic black metal with plenty of goth tendencies in the vein of Tribulation. While Slægt is mainly concerned with exploring the black metal side of these guys’ particular sound, Scimitar ventures further into heavy metal territory, infusing the performance with a scrappy DIY aesthetic. There are still plenty of the black metal performance techniques, but they are used in the context of and in service to a heavy metal conceit. The bass guitar heavily utilizes chromaticism and relies on leading tones that anchor the ripping melodic black metal based guitar riffing. The drumming is very busy, constantly filling space with fills and short blasts, but never distracting from the rest of the performances. This is not to say that Scimitar never fully unsheathes their black metal side—they do so quite a few times, and always to great effect. Take “Red Ruins” for example: around 1:20 there is a chilling ghostly vocal harmony that leads into Scimitarium I’s first fully mask off black metal section. Harsh vocals accompany a vicious tremolo attack, followed by a harmonically disorienting arpeggiated riff that winds around itself like a whirling drain. Scimitar’s sound is malleable and can be stretched into so many different directions, from black and heavy metal to goth and pop (“Hungry Hallucinations”), but always retains its core sound and never diverges from the almighty riff. 

Scimitar has stumbled upon a nearly perfect blend of sound for my tastes, a paradoxical fog which repels direct comparison through an inviting familiarity. Each performance is grippingly authentic, each riff thrillingly engaging, and each moment ridiculously addictive. We’re only about a third of the way through 2025, and Scimitarium I is already a strong contender for ending up as my favorite album of the year, and it is not particularly close either. Even in an early year full of strong underground releases, Scimitar cuts through the chaff, sharpening its uniquely shaped edge with a calculated efficiency. Perhaps those warriors from Hammerfell were onto something after all.

Recommended tracks: Aconitum, Hungry Hallucinations, Ophidia
You may also like: Slægt, Molten Chains, Funereal Presence, Predatory Light, Ponte del Diavolo
Final verdict: 9/10

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

Label: Crypt of the Wizard – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Scimitar is:
– Shaam Larein (vocals)
-Johan L. Ekstrand (unknown)
-Anders M. Jorgensen (unknown)
-Olle Bergholz (unknown)
-Adam CCsquele (unknown)

The post Review: Scimitar – Scimitarium I appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal, heavy metal, thrash metal (mixed vocals, mostly clean)
Recommended for fans of: Megadeth, Metallica, Testament, Haken, Between the Buried and Me
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: 14 March 2025

When prog metal nerds gather and chat about music, an inevitable topic is how each got into the genre. Two particular paths seem to be the most common: from the prog rock side, beginning with Rush, Pink Floyd, Yes, et al. (thank your parents for that); or from the metal side, beginning with Maiden, Priest, Metallica, Megadeth, and all the usual suspects. Dream Theater tend to be the point at which the two paths intersect—and, these days, perhaps Haken too. 

My path to progressive metal follows the latter group. At age twelve, Rust in Peace and The Number of the Beast pulled me away from mainstream alternative rock and set me on the course that eventually led here, writing about obscure prog albums that a relative few will ever hear. I have a tremendous amount of reverence for the metal classics, and twenty-one years later there’s still a big spot in my rotation for the old school. So, I was more than a little excited when Charlie Griffiths, guitarist of Haken fame, announced that his sophomore solo album, Gods of Pangaea, would be a love letter to the classic metal bands responsible for my plunge into heavier music.  

Let’s get a bit of housekeeping out of the way—Griffiths’ first solo album, Tiktaalika, was released under the moniker Charlie Griffiths. This time, Gods of Pangaea is released under the moniker Tiktaalika. (Thanks, Charlie, for choosing the most confusing possible way to release this one.) Tiktaalika, the album, featured a roster of vocalists who traded duties depending on the track. If Haken plays progressive metal, Griffiths’ solo debut was progressive metal—heavier, but not eschewing progressive songwriting or moving away completely from Haken’s wackiness.¹ Now, Griffiths has stripped things back another layer with Gods of Pangaea, releasing an album that pays tribute to late ‘80s and early ‘90s metal and the art of the riff. The vocals are again split among a few powerhouses, most of whom also appeared on the debut:

• Daniël de Jongh (Textures): “Tyrannicide,” “Gods of Pangaea,” “Give up the Ghost”
• Rody Walker (Protest the Hero): “Fault Lines”
• Tommy Rogers (Between the Buried and Me): “Lost Continent”
• Vladimir Lalić (Organised Chaos, David Maxim Micic): “Mesozoic Mantras”
• Vladimir Lalić and Neil Purdy (Luna’s Call): “The Forbidden Zone”

On bass is Conner Green (Haken), and Darby Todd (currently touring with Devin Townsend) is behind the kit. On paper, this all adds up to a dream album for me. But in practice, could this all-star roster capture the magic of heavy metal’s golden era?

Gods of Pangaea may be influenced by a dozen metal bands, ranging from Metallica to Mercyful Fate, but Megadeth are the most noticeable—the riffing is tight, sharp, and often more technical than you’d expect from the old school. Opener “Tyrannicide” has a verse that bites and a ripping instrumental bridge and solo, channeling the energy and instrumental prowess that catapulted Megadeth into the Big Four. Indeed, the track’s intro might well have come directly from Rust in Peace. The choruses in “Fault Lines” and the title track, meanwhile, bring the more melodic parts of Countdown to Extinction to mind. Slowing things down slightly, “The Forbidden Zone” leans further into groove with its chugging verse and stomping chorus, and opts for a modern feel as Lalić trades his cleans with Purdy’s harshes. Although a common, overtly “metal” thread connects the songs, they’re all different in feel, helped along by the rotating vocal cast. And each track has at least a few components that any fan of traditional metal will have fun attributing back to one of the classic bands.

In his respective tracks, Daniël de Jongh’s versatile vocals extend from Mustaine-esque cleans to ballsier harshes. Lalić’s vocals, on the other hand, have a power-metal feel, with an expressive tone and operatic flourishes that sit pleasantly on top of both the heavier riffs in “The Forbidden Zone” and the melodic, proggier ones in “Mesozoic Mantras.” Really harkening back to the early days of metal, Lalić’s twenty-second wail at the end of the latter track is something to behold. Rody Walker may turn in the most enjoyable performance of all with “Fault Lines,” adding his own melodic take on thrashy vocals resembling those of Joey Belladonna (Anthrax) and then capping off the track with some climactic, throaty yelling. And, of course, Tommy Rogers sounds as good as we’ve come to expect, his trademark vocals putting an exclamation point on closing track “Lost Continent.” Gods of Pangaea does have some vocal stumbling points: most obvious is the repetitive, mundane chorus of “Give up the Ghost” that cements it as the album’s weakest track, and a close second is the verse of “The Forbidden Zone” that plods vocally and lyrically without much inspiration.² But on the whole, Griffiths’ roster of vocalists keeps the album fresh and dynamic without losing a cohesive flow from track to track. 

Despite Gods of Pangaea being a tribute to the classic metal sound, Griffiths couldn’t help but indulge his progressive background—Tiktaalika are a bunch of prog musicians, after all. “Mesozoic Mantras” begins with a winding two minutes of primarily acoustic guitars, some complex drum chops and rhythmic variance, a bit of play with the meter, and even short, soft vocal accents in the Haken style—reminiscent of “Earthlings” or any Haken track in that vein. “Lost Continent” loses the classic metal plot completely and is straight-up modern progressive metal, sounding quite a lot like Between the Buried and Me, and not just because Tommy Rogers is providing the vocals. As one of the album’s best tracks, I can’t complain. Less successfully, the title track spans nearly nine minutes due to a collection of middle passages that wander longer than they hold interest. In general, all the songs are a little more complicated in structure, and the riffs and drumming are a little more technical, than you’d get from late ‘80s and early ‘90s metal. The progressive elements peppered—or at times dumped—into the album are well done, and the result is an album for prog metal fans who appreciate the old school more than one for classic metal fans who appreciate prog.

Paying tribute to the past is tough work: it requires capturing a resonant aura of authenticity while also injecting enough originality to avoid the label “rip off.” And, transparently, describing why something does or doesn’t feel authentic is also tough and often overly subjective. Nevertheless, to me, Gods of Pangaea succeeds in the “originality” part of the balance but not in its authenticity—even despite its sick, Ed Repka-inspired cover art.³ Griffiths’ ideas are carried out and connected with surgical precision. The riffs throw a barrage of notes at you, and the drums seem to follow each one until a spotless transition takes you into the next section. The album lacks those huge, sustained chords that give so many classic tracks character (pick any prime-era Metallica song); there’s very little of the simple drumming and totally stripped-back rhythms that let riffs and vocals shine and provide older metal its loose, flowing feel (think Anthrax’s Among the Living); and the album’s pristine production is devoid of the old school grit crucial to the era’s aesthetic. These things are hardly criticisms of a prog album. In fact, they’re things prog albums actively seek to avoid. But having approached Gods of Pangaea with its context in mind, I felt some slight disappointment in terms of authenticity—and then I remembered that, whatever his intent, Griffiths still delivered a solid record.

Ultimately, Gods of Pangaea is modern progressive metal that gives a nod to the classics. The album has no shortage of strong riffs, catchy choruses, or impressive performances—vocally and from each instrumentalist. The tracks are dynamic enough to remain engaging, and the energy stays high throughout. Maybe Gods of Pangaea doesn’t capture the magic of heavy metal’s golden era—it doesn’t bring me back to high school, blasting Screaming for Vengeance while driving my beat-up pickup truck through the hills of Los Angeles—but we can still chalk it up as another win for Griffiths.

Recommended tracks: Tyrannicide, Fault Lines, Lost Continent
You may also like: Paradox, Crimson Glory, and Wolf (Swe) if you’re a fan of this album’s classic influences
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Inside Out Music – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Tiktaalika is:
– Charlie Griffiths (guitars)
– Darby Todd (drums)
– Conner Green (bass)

1. Here at The Subway, Tiktaalika garnered a double review, scoring a rare 9/10 in both. I didn’t quite share the same level of enthusiasm, but I’ll say it was undeniably a very strong album. ︎
2. “I am Triassic, I’m Jurassic. Always adapting and counterattacking. I am voracious, I am Cretaceous…” doesn’t quite do it for me. But hey, repetitive choruses and bumbling verses are practically staples of classic metal. ︎
3. The album artwork, done by Dan Goldsworthy, is directly inspired by Ed Repka—the artist responsible for the covers of Death’s early work, Peace Sells, Rust in Peace, and so many other iconic albums of the era. Goldsworthy and Griffiths share a love for Repka’s work, and they felt his style captured what Gods of Pangaea aimed to be. ︎

The post Review: Tiktaalika – Gods of Pangaea appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive black metal, heavy metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Haggard, King Diamond, Fleshgod Apocalypse
Country: Italy
Release date: 31 January 2025

If I won the lottery, I’d pay for Wilderun and Ne Obliviscaris to record and perform with whatever orchestra and choir they’d like. In my humble opinion, (competent) orchestration and metal pair like peanut butter and jelly, elevating both to hitherto unknown heights. Truly, few things in life compare to the wedding of these disparate styles. On one man band Selvans’ third album, the Italian horrorist enlists the help of a sixty-member orchestra and choir. That’s damn ambitious and I respect it; do his compositions justify the cost?

Saturnalia exudes campy fun, living up to the Roman festival it’s named after. With a baseline of King Diamond-y heavy metal, Selvans amplifies the sound with eclectic black metal riffing and an aura of Fleshgod Apocalypse’s grandeur. Selvan’s vocal attack is similarly varied: he shouts at you in Italian, performs freakily accurate King Diamond highs, attempts silly little whispers and more goblin-y harshes (“Fonte del Diavoli”), and showcases operatic talent (“Madre Dei Tormenti”). For every vocal success, however, he has several which work less well: like the obnoxious burp which heralds the start of “Madre Dei Tormenti” and the out-of-place spaghetti-Western styled whistle in “Il Mio Maleficio V’incalzerà!,” but Selvans is clearly an entertainer to his core, his performances full of drama and refreshingly passionate—over-the-top but deservingly so. The all-Italian lyrics are also quite the riot (according to my Italian peer Francesco), chronicling loony tales of cultist orgies (“Il Mio Maleficio V’incalzerà!”) and… um a man who escapes an asylum, is flayed and burned alive, only to have the devil come and make him into a figure of terror who goes and curses people with a band of outcasts (“Il Mio Maleficio”) (thanks for the translation help, Francesco!).

Instrumentally, Selvans achieves similar bombast, even disregarding the orchestration. Chock-full of heavy metal swagger, guitarists Chris D’Onofrio and Antonio Scelzi rip solos whenever they get the chance—highlights including the ends of “Il Mio Maleficio V’incalzerà!” and “Il Capro Infuocato.” When not soloing, the trem-picked riffs provide the ghastly horror vibe Selvans aims to achieve, creating a sense of maniacal unhingedness like Le Grand Guignol did almost twenty years ago. A bevy of retro prog rock organs and synths create a spooky atmosphere during the more metal-y tracks (so all but “Necromilieu” and “Madre Dei Tormenti”); both keyboard styles are fun, but with all the sounds at once in the heavier parts, everything can be a bit overwhelming.

And alas, the metal bits completely lose the orchestra. Just like Fleshgod Apocalypse, muddy production kills the full experience. The lead guitar and vocals are crisp above the menagerie of other textures, but those all blend together into a noisy, cluttered mess. In an ideal world, all of Selvans’ orchestrations and compositions would be a bit more deft—not to the level of Aquilus but perhaps handled like Lamentari. And this is where Selvans loses me despite their vibrant enthusiasm and jubilant, creepy songwriting: the group just get lost in the sauce. The ebbs and flows are thrilling, but by the end it doesn’t do much with symphonic grandeur, the songwriting never crescendoing to a satisfying enough climax (although the solos are undoubtedly great—I wish Selvans used them more). Along the same lines, the album closer “Fonte Dei Diavoli” is a little underwhelming: why does Saturnalia end on a fadeout???

I always respect ambition; it’s the driving force of prog, after all. But sometimes an artist has to rein it in, and that’s the case for Selvans. Fantastic musician, solid composer, fun ideator for concepts and stories, but the whole project just doesn’t coalesce in a satisfying way. That is not to say Saturnalia isn’t worthwhile, but I am sad that this is supposedly the final project under the Selvans name.

Recommended tracks: Il Mio Maleficio V’incalzerà!, Madre Dei Tormenti, Pantàfica
You may also like: Malokarpatan, Le Grand Guignol, Antipope, Pensées Nocturnes, Dissona, The Circle, Aenaon
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Avantgarde Music – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Selvans is:

Selvans: vocals and keyboards
Chris D’Onofrio: guitars
Agares: bass
Marco Berrettoni: drums
Antonio Scelzi: additional lead guitars
Triumphator: solo track 4

The post Review: Selvans – Saturnalia appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Heavy metal, prog rock, theatre soundtrack (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Saimaa, Area, Mike Oldfield, Premiata Forneria Marconi, Unitopia
Country: Italy
Review by: Christopher
Release date: 10 January 2025

A hundred restless figures in a cramped auditorium, a gentle hum of conversation and the occasional cough; nervously excited parents rifling through the program. This year, the ambitious new drama teacher has gone all out, and the kids are performing a musical version of William Shakespeare’s The Tempest. Bake sales have funded the production design: some parents have been working on papier-mâché stalagmites and stalactites for Caliban’s cave, and buckets of brown paint have been slapped onto the ship backdrop for the opening scene. The crowd hushes as the drama teacher steps onstage to give an introductory speech, and the Shakespeare fans in the audience itch for their first sight of the Boatswain and the Shipmaster. The two characters do indeed step out at the play’s opening, but what isn’t expected is the four grown men in a makeshift orchestra pit hammering out an Iron Maiden-esque overture that wobbles the set enough that it really does seem like the ship’s in a storm. As The Bard himself would say: if music be the food of love, then open up this fucking pit. 

Yes, here to steal the thunder from the it girl playing Miranda, and your own kid who got lumped with the curtain puller job is Italian prog metal outfit Opera Nera. Shakespeare’s original play contained songs for the players to perform, and the band lift their lyrics from these to reimagine them as if The Bard had been into rock operas, which he obviously would’ve been. Some tracks take their lyrics from other parts of the text (“This Island is Mine”, for example, borrows from a Caliban soliloquy), and others act as instrumental soundtrack or incidental music. In essence, Opera Nera’sThe Tempest is conceptualised not as a complete piece in and of itself, but as an accompaniment to a stage performance, an extra dimension of the play, to expand Prospero’s island.

“Hell is Empty” opens with lines from Caliban, the enslaved savage—‘Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not’—before the band bring out their twangling instruments and deliver a heavy metal aria. Power chords and duelling leads with a somewhat warbling quality, plus a solo section which, at one juncture, appears to homage Avenged Sevenfold’s “Afterlife” make for a rather generic start, and the production is instantly apparent as a weak point. Around half the tracks are rooted in a simple eighties style of heavy metal, shades of Iron Maiden, Dio, that sort of thing, but lacking somewhat in execution. “This Island is Mine” employs Dino Jelusick-esque gravelly belting while “Beseech, you sir, be merry” consists of little more than some chugs and a solo; there’s ultimately not much to say about these tracks because they don’t develop any ideas. Most are five lines of Shakespeare and a riff with an average song length of just over two minutes—such is the lot of music made for a play that isn’t actually a musical. However, there’s another side to Opera Nera, some unexpected flourishes which actually elevate their sound. 

If half of The Tempest is metal, the other half is some rather bold genre experimentation. “Flaut‘em and Scout‘em” [sic] goes for a clean guitar funk groove and wild sax solo, “You are Three Men of Sins” evolves from psychedelic chilled-out electronica in the vein of Air into a sort of Primus-esque chaos—given the lyrics are drawn from a pretty tense and climactic scene, this level of whimsy seems somewhat at odds with the play’s content but I’m no theatre critic. Meanwhile, “Lu capitano in testa” is an impromptu sojourn into full-blown Neapolitan folk (to reflect the character of Stefano who is described as a Neapolitan in the play and drawing upon a Neapolitan translation of the text for the lyrics), and “Come Unto These Yellow Sands” boldly attempts vocal harmonisation and clean guitar in the vein of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young (ending with comical abruptness; the noise gates Opera Nera use are undeniably a problem). The jewel of the genre-hopping, however, is “Reaper’s Dance”, seven minutes of out-and-out trance that reprise the addictive ‘Ban, ‘Ban, Ca-Caliban’ chant from the track of that name of which it’s essentially a remix handled by guest musician, Pier Paolo Polcari. I don’t know about you, but I think all Shakespeare adaptations should have at least seven uninterrupted minutes of rave music. 

Herein lies the most bizarre problem afflicting Opera Nera: their stopovers in other genres are far more successful than their progressive metal which is, at best, bland, poorly produced rock opera clichés. On the other hand, “Reaper’s Dance” is unironically sick but it’s broadly the work of composer Pier Paolo Polcari (who’s worked with Massive Attack, which really explains the insane quality jump), just as “Lu capitano in testa” is mostly the work of guest musician Lino Vairetti. While the attempt at folk on “Come Unto These Yellow Sands” is admirable, with no expert to guide them, Opera Nera falter. The band’s strongest ideas are either carried by skilled guest musicians or fall prey to the band’s triumvirate of problems: poor production, undercooked compositions, and an unfortunate lack of skill. As a work that could theoretically accompany a production of The Tempest, this is an intriguing, ambitious and serviceable project as well as a unique undertaking for the progressive scene, but on most other metrics Opera Nera fall well short of muster.

Prospero intones his final lines, and the curtain falls as an ominous string quartet plays (“All the Devils Are Here”). The parents give a standing ovation, and the little actors take a bow. The families file out, their little Thespians in tow and head out towards the car park. Loading their instruments into a van are Opera Nera who were never invited up onstage and so, unlike Prospero, never received the audience’s applause to set them free. “You were great tonight, sweetie,” beams a proud mother walking past with her son, and a little sense of yearning jolts through the watching musicians. Behind his wife and daughter comes the proud father, singing a little ditty to himself: “Flout ‘em and scout ‘em, and scout ‘em and flout ‘em”, he croons tunelessly. And perhaps that’s enough for these sirs to be cheerful, even though our revels now are ended.

Final verdict: 5/10

Review by: Francesco

Since practically the dawn of civilization, grandiose epic concepts have been a staple of storytelling. And with the advent of the written word, the most popular form has been the literary form—between technological innovations and the evolution of the pop culture sphere, these epic tales and poems have been passed on in various media, very recently growing to include progressive rock and heavy metal. In 1977, Rush wrote “Xanadu”, a direct adaptation of Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s “Kubla Khan”—likely the earliest song explicitly based on an epic poem—setting it to grand, atmospheric prog music. Certainly a huge influence on epic metal storytelling, it was later followed by arguably the most popular and definitive metal music piece based on an epic literary work; another work of Coleridge’s, in fact – “Rime of the Ancient Mariner”, by Iron Maiden off their 1984 album Powerslave. Later oeuvres would include Blind Guardian’s interpretation of The Iliad and The Aeneid with “And Then There Was Silence”, and its counterpart “The Odyssey” by Symphony X. And if you fancy a bit of Shakespeare, perhaps? Well, to my knowledge, there are only a few: Rebellion’s Shakespeare’s Macbeth: A Tragedy in Steel (2002) and King Lear (2018), Anarchÿ’s The Spectrum of Human Emotion (2022) which was based on Hamlet, and the focus of this review: Italians Opera Nera and The Tempest—based off the play of the same name. To make an analogy; if Rebellion’s works were expressionist paintings, and Anarchÿ’s Spectrum was baroque, then Opera Nera’s The Tempest would be a child splattering the wall with finger paints. 

Ostensibly The Tempest was written as musical accompaniment to the play, and many of the tracks contain lyrics that are directly pulled from Shakespeare’s work. Introducing The Tempest with a line from Act III, Scene II, ‘Be not afeard…’ and transitioning into an ‘80s metal harmonized guitar track, Opera Nera immediately invites comparisons to Iron Maiden—and while there are certainly elements of heavy metal on this album, to suggest that the entire album is like this would not only be untrue, it would also be setting you up, dear reader, for disappointment. From the ‘60s psychedelic ballad in “Come unto these yellow sands”, to soft piano with vocal accompaniment in “My Master through his art”, and back to a heavy metal sound with “This island is mine”, Opera Nera often ventures off into genre territories so vastly different from one another you’ll need a map and compass to find your place. And that’s barely the half of it. It’s certainly very artsy, and yes, progressive music can be about pushing boundaries—but I think it’s wise to have direction, and that’s something I felt The Tempest was sorely lacking. 

The way The Tempest (the album, not the play) bounces around different ideas is jarring and gives the impression of an incomplete, or rather, unfinished work. The idea to make this a heavy metal album would have been one of the better creative decisions on this release, if it had not been left unexplored fully; instead, we get seven minutes of abysmal vocal trance music (“Reaper’s Dance”), a minute-and-a-half of funk-soul-jazz (“Flout ‘em and scout ‘em”), and whatever the fuck you call the two-and-a-half minutes of “Ban Ban Ca Caliban”. The best part of this album was the Neapolitan-language folk music of “Lu Capitanu in testa”. Why couldn’t they make a Neapolitan folk metal album instead? There’s just as much a lack of those as there are conceptual Neapolitan Shakespearean prog albums, and evidently they have more a knack for it than much of whatever else is on this album. 

Opera Nera’s Spotify biography reads “trying to experiment with formats in a metal key” and of the fourteen tracks on The Tempest, beside “Hell is empty”, “Beseech you, sir, be merry”, “This island is mine”, and “Yo, elves of hills” (which was intended to be “you elves”, making it accidentally the funniest title on the album), there was no other metal or metal-adjacent sonority to be found. Frankly, I would struggle to consider this a prog metal or prog rock album. It’s some type of abstract expressionist avant-garde musical concept album with everything from jazz to psychedelia to trance thrown at the wall just to see what sticks. It was probably one of the most absurd things I’ve heard in a while. Ragazzi, ma per cortesia. You are four men of sins.

Recommended tracks: Reaper’s Dance, Lu capitano in testa, Hell is Empty
You may also like: Osanna, Whom Gods Destroy
Final verdict: 3/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Official Website | Instagram

Label: Independent

Opera Nera is:
– Marco Napolitano (guitars)
– Alessandro Pacella (bass)
– Eduardo Spada (drums)
– Tiziano Spigno (vocals)

The post Double Review: Opera Nera – The Tempest appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Cover art by Alexander Goulet

Style: Heavy metal, progressive metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, Dio, Iron Maiden, Ningen Isu
Country: Illinois, United States
Release date: 6 September 2024

Ever since discovering progressive metal, it has been my number one favorite genre by a wide margin. However for a brief period around 2018, classic heavy metal came awfully close, particularly the US power metal style (don’t let the name fool you) which was nearly all I listened to for a while—Iron Maiden, early Mercyful Fate, and Black Sabbath’s Paranoid, too, had me in a chokehold. Going into the 2020s, the obsession has largely waned, but I still have a soft spot for the style. Sadly, crossovers with prog rarely work from what I’ve encountered for the blog (a “heavy/progressive metal” tag on Metallum is almost a guaranteed dud), yet amidst all the rubbish, there has been one band who has consistently made it work. Of course, this is none other than today’s Chicago based, pig-burning subject of review, Black Sites. 

Heavy metal over the years has developed a reputation for being the least heavy metal subgenre, which might very well be true, but that doesn’t stop guitarists Mark Sugar and Ryan Bruchert from penning yet another masterclass in riffology. Indeed, The Promised Riffs? delivers in spades—from the groovy thrashers of “Descent” or “Chasing Eternity”, to the speedy triplets galore that borders on power metal of “Dread Tomorrow”, to the occasional bursts of Sabbathian doom, to Maiden-esque harmonies—Black Sites are ever eager to show off their riffing credentials. But what makes Black Sites truly stand out in this regard is just how damn cool their riffs sound. I can easily imagine just about any of these songs featuring as a soundtrack to a car chase in an 80s or 90s American action film—“World on Fire”’s main riff being especially badass, and “Dread Tomorrow” just embodies adrenaline. 

But it’s not like Black Sites are one-trick ponies either with good riffs and nothing else: the guitar solos are a wonderful homage to all your favorite 80s heavy metal shredders, expertly combining melody, technicality, and feel while always staying in service of the song and keeping the length short but sweet. The drumming is excellent, too, new recruit Bradon White dictates the tempo and lays down some really tasty fills, his work in “World on Fire” being particularly strong. Band leader Mark Sugar’s voice is easily recognizable, his gruff yet operatic timbre somewhat sounding as if prime Matt Barlow (Iced Earth) smoked a joint before entering the studio, and he lays down a charismatic performance, showing a solid sense of melody and belting ability. Perhaps not every chorus is a major earworm (“Dread Tomorrow” being the major exception—what a banger), but given the album’s progressive song structures (more on that later), that hardly impedes his performance. As far as heavy metal is concerned, The Promised Land? is another major success from Sugar and co.

When it comes to the progressive department, however, I’m a bit mixed. Most of the album’s progressivisms lie in the adventurous song structures utilized, but on occasion Black Sites will also dabble into the genre of progressive metal by way of odd-time rhythms, drastic mood changes, and atmospheric arrangements. On “Descent” and “World on Fire” they incorporate these aspects really well, making the songs extra dynamic, but on other tracks I wished they committed more. The twelve minute title track for instance has a mesmerizing progressive opening act, but during the middle part they just revert to standard heavy metal fare. It’s good heavy metal, but given the progressive parts surrounding the section, it is also a bit of a letdown. Similarly, the melancholic power ballad “Gideon” has good vocal writing, but instrumentally the song screams for more atmospheric development, and closer “Many Turn to None” has a godly transition from guitar solo to acoustic, but instead of using that for an epic progressive finish, they go back to the riffage like nothing happened and eventually finish the album with an awkward fade-out. 

On the whole, though, The Promised Land? is another successful record. Sugar and co gave a masterclass in riff-writing, and continue to show that you don’t need to innovate to write great music. My only complaint is that I wished that Black Sites would lean harder into the prog aspect at times (we are on a prog blog, after all), but otherwise, The Promised Land? fulfilled all my needs for classic heavy metal, and I highly recommend any other fan of the genre to pick it up.

Recommended tracks: Dread Tomorrow, World on Fire
You may also like: Dead Kosmonaut, Hammers of Misfortune, Vicious Rumors
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

Label: Independent

Black Sites is:
– Mark Sugar (vocals, guitar)
– Ryan Bruchert (guitars)
– Greg Bruchert (bass)
– Brandon White (drums)

The post Review: Black Sites – The Promised Land? appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: US power metal, progressive metal, epic doom (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Iced Earth, Atlantean Kodex, Gamma Ray, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Review by: Sam
Country: Greece
Release date: 20 March 2023

One of my favorite things in music is when power metal vocalists go AAAAAAA. It tickles something special in my brain as a singer does away with all logic and belts out the most insane notes at unbelievable volume. Daniel Heiman’s ludicrousness turned Lost Horizon into legend and also adds a whopping two points to any album he sings on; hence, when Sacred Outcry released Towers of Gold earlier this year and had Heiman singing at full potentiAAAAAl, I thought power metal peaked in 2023—heck, maybe even in the entire decade. But little did I know that there was another band on the horizon to blow me the fuck awAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY this year. Enter Triumpher.

Holy hell, I mean, what a singer! Antonis Vailas has a ginormous range and reinforces that with Dragon Ball Z levels of power and grit. I am not being hyperbolic when I say that he reaches a level near comparable to the god Daniel Heiman himself as he belts out his high notes, and the grit he displays in aggressive parts is similarly impressive, evoking other power metal gods such as Matt Barlow (Iced Earth) at his best or Russell Allen (Symphony X) in general. The guy is vicious in his delivery and a huge aspect of what makes Storming the Walls so appealing. 

And Vailas is not the only one, the rest of the band also engages in plenty of savagery. Whereas Sacred Outcry was at times let down by middling riffs and plodding drumming, Triumpher suffer from no such ailments: we get power metal riffs so nasty they border on death metal, gargantuan epic doom riffs with thundering drumming underneath and majestic synths on top, spidering technical prog riffs as they transition, black metal influenced tremolo picking and high octane drumming – the creativity and variety simply don’t let up. Contrast is provided too – classic campfire acoustic sections frequently rear their heads – and Triumpher perform them every bit as magically as the 80s power metal greats. On the other side of the spectrum, did I mention the harsh vocals yet? Yeah, I don’t know who does them since they seem to be backing vocals and no one’s listed for that in the credits, but whoever’s responsible sounds massive.

So the performances are all through the roof, but how is the songwriting? Rather meandering, which is both a strength and a weakness. In a genre often bound by rigid form – even in its progressive variations – Triumpher’s approach is refreshing, but conventions also typically exist because they work on some level, and without big central hooks to latch onto the songs are at risk of becoming a formless stream of theatrics. While no song on its own becomes aimless or lacking in distinctive elements, as a whole Storming the Walls does blend together a little by the end of it, something which is exacerbated by the vocal melody writing. Instead of singing conventional melodies, Valias frequently engages in what I like to call “power talking” – a style common in epic metal born to theatrically convey the band’s epic tales to the listener. The downside of this style is that it lacks catchiness, which doesn’t help with the aforementioned homogeneity aspect.

But criticism aside, I must also mention the highlights. The opening combo is ridiculously strong, setting the stage first in “Journey/Europa Victrix” with those magical acoustics I mentioned earlier, giving full space for Valias to display his insane range as he belts out AAAAAs of legend, and then marching into “The Thunderer” which does exactly as the track title prescribes by unleashing a maniacal riff and vocal assault. The title track – though losing itself a little bit in the middle – leans fully into epic doom and sounds incredibly imposing. “Esoteric Church of Dagon” is another riff assault but even more intense than “The Thunderer,” strongly bringing Manticora’s latest album to mind for its extreme and progressive metal influences, and “The Blazing Circle” shines for its triumphant, AAAAA-pilled, chorus, although its poor transition into an acoustic outro makes for a disappointingly anti-climactic end to the album.

When I first heard Storming the Walls, I legitimately thought I had an all-time power metal classic on my hands. That turned out to be not quite the case as the band has some hiccups with the songwriting, but either way this is incredible for a debut and I must applaud them for their playing. Even on tracks that lose direction or lack melodies to latch onto I find myself blown away by every other riff, vocal burst, or maniacal piece of drumming. Triumpher have something special in them, and I desperately hope they one day reach their full potential.

Recommended tracks: The Thunderer, Esoteric Church of Dagon, Divus de Mortuus
You may also like: Sacred Outcry, Starborn, Hunted, Manticora
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: No Remorse Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Triumpher is:
– Antonis “Mars Triumph” Valias (vocals, bass, lyrics)
– Apostolos Papadimitriou (guitars)
– Christopher Tsakiropoulos (guitars)
– John “Maelstrom” Votsis (drums)

The post Missed Albums Review: Triumpher – Storming the Walls appeared first on The Progressive Subway.