Style: Post-hardcore, post-metal (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Rolo Tomassi, Converge, Terminal Sleep
Country: France
Release date: 25 April 2025

Our inner emotional worlds are an unwieldy, convoluted place: feelings never come standalone and can’t be neatly filed away, as they end up bleeding into facets of our lives both conscious and unconscious. So why should we expect that managing these emotions is a clean and regimented process? Sometimes, the best course of action when dealing with messy and intense feelings is an equally messy and intense approach. For French band Point Mort, this manifests through testaments to fury and exhaustion on latest record, Le Point de Non-Retour (The Point of No Return). Will we reach cathartic relief by its end, or will indulging in these grievances take us past the point of no return?

Intro “ॐ Ajar” transmutes Le Point de Non-Retour’s opening moments from bubbling inner tension into righteous fury by juxtaposing buzzing electronic percussion against sass-tinged cleans and distorted harsh screams. Vocalist Sam Pillay proclaims, ‘I LOST MY MIND’ on following track “An Ungrateful Wreck of Our Ghost Bodies,” and blast beats annihilate any semblance of restraint; out of Point Mort’s primordial sludge of rage emerges a stream-of-consciousness rarefaction of frustration and anger. Le Point de Non-Retour is a blender of post-hardcore intensity, post-metal contemplations, and straightforward hardcore punk assaults. Chunks of its constituent forms can be found in the suspension, but the product as a whole is one of its own, uniquely integrating elements of sludgy neocrust, black metal blast beats and tremolos, and slippery, undulating electronics that urge the listener to sway in tandem. On very rare occasions, tracks will reprise an idea or utilize a chorus, but song structures generally follow the inner train of thought that manifests when processing complex and extreme emotions.

Each track brings an ineffable sense of excitement and intrigue while retaining vulnerability in rage-room songwriting. “An Ungrateful Wreck of Our Ghost Bodies” is an act in three parts, beginning in excessive neocrust chaos with head-smashing percussion and rumbling rhythms. After a smooth and ethereal quieter section, the intensity returns in full—but in a more refined and straightforward form, creating a sense of drama and progression through a willingness to sharpen focus in the track’s final hours. The bite-sized “Skinned Teeth” brings a sense of vigor through the use of double-kick drums and fast-paced stuttering drum patterns, adhering to an unstoppable kinetic force across its short runtime. In contrast, the cinematics of “The Bent Neck Lady” emerge through a comparatively slower burn, beginning with heavily reverbed vocals and a slowly building drum pattern under smooth, swirling percussion. By the halfway mark, the listener is pulled in by a riptide of sludgy grooves from guitarists Aurélien Sauzereau and Olivier Millot, and near its end, a volcanic intensity is broached in repeated throat-tearing screams.

Le Point de Non-Retour’s sense of pathos is centralized in the vocal performance. Pillay showcases several styles, injecting melodrama through clean vocals, acerbic and acidic harshes, and occasionally veering into sass territory with a pouty and irreverent half-sung, half-spoken affect. Pillay’s harshes in particular are stunningly powerful, her eviscerating shrieks projected into an endless chasm of grief and consternation. Most striking is the performance that concludes “The Bent Neck Lady”; overtop wailing tremolos and blast beats, Pillay lets out the most pained and haunting howls of the record over and over, the anguish and frustration too much for words. The sass vocals work well in their subtle incorporation on the verses of the title track, adding a playful spin that almost evokes SOPHIE’s “Faceshopping”. A majority of the time, though, the squealy and sneering delivery ranges from listenable to tolerable, adding little more than texture to the music. I’d frankly prefer if they were either incorporated more regularly into the compositions or taken out to create a more cohesive mood instead of only being used intermittently.

Through chaos comes clarity—sometimes, the easiest way to organize ourselves is to malleate and rearrange the internals, letting things explode and seeing where they land before bringing the pieces back together. Point Mort’s Le Point de Non-Retour goes through a similar process of deconstruction, destruction, and creation, breaking down the fundamentals of hardcore punk, post-rock, and post-black metal, and congealing them into an unstoppable wall of visceral intensity. While the end product may not be rid of its inherent rage, the record most certainly alchemizes it effectively, embodying a much-needed catharsis by its conclusion.

Recommended tracks: An Ungrateful Wreck of Our Ghost Bodies, The Bent Neck Lady, Le Point de Non-Retour
You may also like: Gospel, Habak, Volatile Ways, American Nightmare, Tocka, Hoplites
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: Almost Famous – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Point Mort is:
– Olivier Millot (guitars)
– Sam Pillay (vocals)
– Damien Hubert (bass)
– Simon Belot (drums)
– Aurélien Sauzereau (guitars)

The post Review: Point Mort – Le Point de Non-Retour appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by: Mohammed Khoirul Anam

Style: Deathgrind, Grindcore, Technical Death Metal, Progressive Death Metal (Harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Cattle Decapitation, The Red Chord, The Number Twelve Looks Like You
Country: Finland
Release date: 20 April 2025

The first time I heard saxophone in metal was “The Silent Life”, off Rivers of Nihil’s masterwork album, Where Owls Know My Name (2018), and needless to say I was hooked on those sultry tones and how they fed deliciously into the song’s thunderous grandiosity. Since then, I’ve heard it more and more, utilized by diverse acts like Operation Mindcrime, The Anchoret, The Faceless, White Ward, and Sleep Token, each time popping up like a reward; a tasty treat for my musical palate. But, I am admittedly, on occasion, a gluttonous being, not always well-known for regulating my sweet-tooth. I want saxophone to be more than a gimmicky addition, but it often feels like a dream, one never to be realized.

Color me shocked when I discovered dreams can come true in the form of Blastanus, a DIY deathgrind/epicsaxgrind act hailing from Finland. They dropped two loads in the late aughts / early 2010s (Odd and Collapse) then promptly vanished to a changing room before returning a decade later to squat out a single “Agathusia” and full-length Beyond in 2022. Now in 2025, the ass-blasting trio of Antti Oksanen (vocals, guitars, bass), Henri Fredriksson (drums), and Kari Vakiparta (vocals) have returned freshly-britched and with longtime session brasskicker Jussi Hurskainen (saxophone) in tow for another toilet-terrorizer in Land of the Weak, Home of the Slave. Can these Finnish flatulators convince me of the saxiness of their particular brand? Or will I need to break out the Febreze?

I’m not one to normally pledge to the cause of grindcore, though I do find its compact stylings and breakneck insanity an occasional source of catharsis when the sadboi-core just ain’t cutting it. There’s an artistry to crafting bite-sized vectors of songcraft from which genuine listening value can be excised. The genre also lends itself to heightened levels of emotion (usually aggression, angst, pain, etc.), with acts like Closet Witch unloading dark matter heaps of suffering in a minute or less, leading to a hyper-injection of feelings that my instant-gratification lizard brain sometimes craves. Blastanus are certainly poised to scratch that scaly itch. On the (w)hole, Land of the Weak, Home of the Slave rips through its thirty-five minute runtime with all the jarring lethality of a post-McChicken bathroom break after clearing the obligatory mid-paced sampler platter that is opener “Inauguration”—a roller-coaster climb before the cheek-clenching freefall into the corkscrew riffage, machine-gun drumming, shredding roars and porcine squeals, and decadent saxophone to follow.

Oh, the saxophone. I wasn’t prepared for just how entrenched Mr. Hurskainen is on the album: he appears on twelve of the fifteen tracks, and in various configurations: Smooth n’ sexy (“Mephitic,” “Drones”), moody and accentual (“Bloodlines,” “Justice System,” “Janedoe”), and as a Weapon of Jazz Destruction (“Cencorship” [sic]). The way he weaves and saunters around the general chaos of his bandmates’ sonic slaughter is, quite honestly, impressive and a genuine highlight of the record. It’s nice to hear the instrument included in a full capacity rather than clinched to a particular moment or style, to be shaken down for its prog-points and then discarded.

Sadly, the rest of Blastanus’ ripping and tearing feels rote and unfortunately forgettable when stacked against the brass. Most of Land of the Weak, Home of the Slave whips through one ear and out the other; few things in its thirty-five minutes generate the staying power necessary to achieve the kind of earworm constipation I seek from music. There’s an entertainment factor here, for sure, but the realization I came to as I spun the record again and again was this: Hurskainen is the not-so-secret saxy sauce. Take him out of the mix and what remains is admittedly fun, but mostly forgettable technical deathgrind. The guitars rip like a renegade chainsaw. Fredriksson’s drumming would make The Flash quake. There are inspired moments where Blastanus clench up on the aural chaos to drop some interesting nuggets: a power metal-flavored solo on “Class Warfare,” the neo-noir bass-and-saxophone chill of “Drones,” “Justice System’s” knuckle-dragging slam, or the weirdly epic ten-minute closer “Don’t Vote,” which serves as a sort of super-cut of what the album offers across its more bite-sized morsels. But despite all the flavoring, there’s little that holds me beyond the simple dopamine hit that ridiculously brutal music can provide—not even Oksanen’s railing against our corrupt governments and generally trash society. His vocals are fun and fit the style, but lack the kind of soul-flensing evocations a’la Mollie Piatetsky (Closet Witch) capable of transporting me to states of emotional extremes. Also, why is “Jane Doe” so loud? It hits like a jump scare, feeling at odds with how the preceding tracks had been mixed.

While discussing Blastanus with my fellow Subway riders, a colleague referred to the inclusion of saxophone as a “dumb gimmick.” I didn’t necessarily agree, but repeat exposure has revealed a kernel of truth here: The biggest reason to recommend Land of the Weak, Home of the Slave is the novelty of Hurskainen’s saxophone. Without him, there’s little staying power in Blastanus’ latest gas. That’s a shame, too, because I love how fully they’ve incorporated the saxophone into the totality of the album. However, by making the sax less of a feature it’s oddly become something of a bug, breaking the album by revealing the relative banality of what surrounds it. If brutal noise and sultry tones is your jam, then you’ll probably have fun with Land of the Weak, Home of the Slave. I sure did. Like SpongeBob ripping his pants, though, there’s only so many times you can do something before the schtick starts to get old and it’s time to look elsewhere for entertainment.

Recommended tracks: Bloodlines, Drones, Justice System, Don’t Vote
You may also like: Closet Witch, Nightmare Unit, Infiltration, Replicant, Brain Stem
Final verdict: 4/10

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

Label: Independent

Blastanus is:
– Antti Oksanen (bass, vocals, guitars, songwriting, lyrics)
– Henri Fredriksson (drums)
– Kari Vakiparta (vocals)
– Jussi Hurskainen (saxophone)

The post Review: Blastanus – Land of the Weak, Home of the Slave appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Atmospheric black metal, post-metal (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Summoning, Alcest, Sylvaine
Country: Norway
Release date: 4 April 2025

If you frequent online progressive metal spaces, you’ve likely seen memes of people deriding ‘slow-burn’ bands or tracks that generally don’t go anywhere. One I see often shows an ascendant silhouette with the caption ‘Tool fans fifteen minutes into the worst song you’ve ever heard’. Regardless of your opinions on Tool, the meme raises a simple-yet-effective point: there is nothing more frustrating than a slow-burn track that never truly ignites. So when I found out that one-man atmoblack project Eldamar had transitioned away from his magical, Tolkien-inspired origins to something more akin to long-form post-metal with the sensibilities of atmoblack, my eyebrow raised. Could Mathias Hemmingby distill his exploratory sound into a focused crescendoing fire on latest release, Astral Journeys, Pt. II: Dissolution, or does the record fizzle out before it can catch flame?

Astral Journeys II is the second half of a four-’Akt’ piece with a focus on the themes of euphoria in the moments before death. Each of Astral Journeys II’s ‘Akts’ are extended post-metal tracks that vacillate between Jeremy Soule-style orchestral atmospherics, jangly 90s alt-rock guitars, and cinematic buildups into atmospheric black metal riffage. Each piece features multiple buildups, starting more narrow in scope with a focus on approaching the buildup and then exploring ideas more freely within the crescendos. While harsh and clean vocalizations are peppered throughout each track, only the first third of “Akt III” features lyrics as a means of establishing Astral Journeys II’s point-of-view.

The prevalent symphonics work the hardest to sell Astral Journeys II’s ideas, used both as a tool for establishing atmosphere and later as a means to augment the more grand and cinematic moments. “Akt III” introduces the record with hazy, dreamy atmospherics and pulsating synthesizers, later swelling in tandem with a tempo increase and transmuting jangly guitar work into a vast technicolor expanse. In a similar fashion, “Akt IV” begins with Soule-style orchestration which later acts as a central focus for its climax, vamping what sounds like the first seven seconds of House of Pain’s “Jump Around” on repeat. Take that how you will.

This extended vamping at the end of “Akt IV” is a microcosm of Astral Journeys II’s flaws. The record undoubtedly features some gorgeous instrumentation and lush soundscaping, even throwing in a series of killer guitar/keyboard melodies to maintain interest across its runtime. At the same time, there is a nagging insistence that tracks must continue well after they reach their peak. Both of these Akts dawdle endlessly and end up massively overstaying their welcome. The “Jump Around” outro of “Akt IV” would be much more palatable if it wasn’t at the end of an overlong and bumbling journey and then repeated for three minutes. Additionally, the gorgeous buildup of “Akt III” and its subsequent cooldown would have made for a much more sensible end than extending the track a further nine minutes. Should Eldamar be interested in continuing this style, dialing back the song lengths just a touch and indulging in the pleasant interplay between orchestration and melody would bring a much stronger focus to the more compelling ideas that make up Astral Journeys II.

In the face of post-metal, it’s easy to decry any criticism of its length as an issue of patience, but Astral Journeys, Pt II: Dissolution is a prime case of a record resting too long on the laurels of a good idea. Its orchestration is undoubtedly lush and gorgeous, intertwining nicely with the keyboards and the more pleasant guitar melodies, but the approach of maintaining a climactic excitement after reaching the natural peak of a piece ends up wearing on the listener more than it keeps them in that initial euphoria. If patience is a virtue, then dawdling is a sin.

Recommended tracks: Akt III
You may also like: Ashlands, Karg, Unreqvited, Skyforest, Lustre
Final verdict: 5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram | Metal-Archives
Label: Northern Silence Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook

Eldamar is:
– Mathias Hemmingby (everything)

The post Review: Eldamar – Astral Journeys, Part II: Dissolution appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: heavy progressive rock, post-rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Riverside, Lunatic Soul, Porcupine Tree, Airbag
Country: Poland
Release date: 13 April 2025

Sensory experiences hold tremendous power to recall memories from our past. Every spring, the first time I catch the scent of early blooming flowers in the warming air through an open window, I’m transported back to middle school and all the time I spent playing Final Fantasy X on a tiny CRT TV in the basement with the door left open for fresh air. Similarly, certain albums—and even whole styles of music—remain permanently associated with the state my life was in when I first heard them. Riverside’s music continually calls me back to my time in late high school, discovering as much Dream Theater-adjacent music as I could through free streaming on Pandora; so strong is the connection that any similarly melancholy heavy progressive rock puts me in much the same mood. Enter SubLunar, another Polish band with an equivalent penchant for sadness, putting forth their sophomore album, A Random Moment of Stillness, for our consideration.

It feels reductive to focus too closely on comparisons between distinct artists, but it’s actively difficult to discuss SubLunar without mentioning Riverside as well. At times, singer Łukasz Dumara sounds so similar to Mariusz Duda (Riverside, Lunatic Soul) that, on my first listen, I had to double-check SubLunar’s lineup to make sure Duda hadn’t secretly started up another side project. Beyond the vocal tone and delivery, the overall style and instrumentation throughout A Random Moment of Stillness is incredibly reminiscent of Riverside’s Memories in My Head era in particular.

Featuring strong bass and soft guitars, but with a lighter presence of keyboards, SubLunar have taken the dark, moody syrup that flavored Riverside albums of old (yes, I know, Memories was “only” released fourteen-ish years ago) and freshly mixed it for an updated interpretation. Although some barbed, distorted edges remain, A Random Moment shies away from neighboring prog metal influences while at the same time developing a cozy infusion of post-rock to further mellow out the atmosphere. SubLunar’s soft ensemble settles the listener into a gentle melancholy mood, perhaps depressed at the cruel emptiness of the world around them, but at least comforted and feeling just a little less alone since they have this beautiful music to appreciate in their solitude.

Supporting the musical mood, A Random Moment of Stillness presents a textual theme centering around contrast and self-contradiction as well as an existential sense of impermanence. Paradoxical phrases pepper the lyrics, expressing a fundamental impossibility in reconciling life’s pains and pleasures. Other sections create a split perspective, describing two slightly different points of view with successive lines that build tension in their opposition. “Falling Upwards” lays the groundwork with its oxymoronic title while clashing lyrical phrases like “We are the ones to stay / We are the ones to go” and “Apart / As a whole” build a sense of unstable reality where no single truth can be established. More than mere contradiction, though, A Random Moment of Stillness establishes a feeling of ephemerality, that our lifetimes and daily lives flash by with little lasting impact. The cleverly-anagrammed closing track “A Sun Blur” laments “Yesterday’s just a flame / A waterdrop in the morning rain” and later “Another day, another scratch / On the surface of the earth.” Whatever self-importance we may assign ourselves, the scope of time we occupy remains tiny and brief compared to the vast planet that surrounds and sustains us. And yet, this needn’t be a message of despair, as the closing stanza offers some small comfort: “All the moments, all the whiles / All the fingerprints of mine / It just couldn’t be / It couldn’t be / More alive.” As limited as our human experience may be, all the worth and beauty we need can be found within it.

If I have one complaint about A Random Moment of Stillness, it’s the lack of stylistic variety. Although every track is equally stirring and mysterious, they also all feel cut from the exact same cloth, like someone listened to Riverside’s “Living in the Past” and decided there should be a whole album of just that. While I understand the temptation, the uniformity is a key limitation of this otherwise strong album. Similar rhythms, tempos, and moods carry throughout the album, preserving the stillness for perhaps too long a moment. SubLunar’s performance flies by in a well-paced and enjoyable forty-three minutes thanks to the legitimately great talent behind it, but after hearing such mastery of one particular style, the listener is left wishing for a broader range.

Of course, it would be unfair not to mention the personal flair that SubLunar display, cutting through the repetition with marbled streaks of individuality. For example, the strong instrumental post-rock influence that takes over at the halfway mark of “Unmanned” sounds totally unlike the rest, setting the focus on a frantic, lonely drum part with gently rising and falling waves of pitch distortion, joined briefly by soft piano notes before finishing on a bright, piercing guitar solo. Łukasz Dumara sets a somber tone with his expression of the carefully crafted lyrics, but SubLunar’s unique character shows best during the lengthy instrumental bridge featured in almost every track. For example, “Attract / Deter” just before the three-minute mark—as Dumara’s heartfelt vocals fade into the backdrop, reverberating guitars echo his closing words “We aren’t made of stone,” reinforcing the message as the abandoned space fills with deepening ambient sounds and increasing rhythmic complexity.

The adjectives “calming” and “depressing” might not be common partners, but A Random Moment of Stillness proves to be a rare exception as it finds affinity in opposing concepts. Prog rock and post-rock vibes combine with thoughtful, poetic lyrics to produce a soothing yet emotional experience. Although comparisons to Riverside are inevitable, SubLunar retain a character of their own, enhancing the atmosphere with ambient and post-rock elements. The result, although backed by clear talent  in the performances, features noticeable uniformity in the rhythm and tone of each track and could be improved by greater variation across the album. Even so, SubLunar’s consistency provides a rare comfort, with gentle vocals pouring out deeply existential lyrics as accompanying guitars complete the dark yet soothing listening experience. What better way to contemplate life’s inherently contradictory and fleeting nature?

Recommended tracks: Unmanned, Falling Upwards, Attract / Deter, A Sun Blur
You may also like: Derev, Sisare, Inhalo, Hillward
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: Independent

SubLunar is:
– Łukasz Dumara (vocals)
– Michał Jabłoński (guitars)
– Marcin Pęczkowski (guitars)
– Jacek Książek (bass)
– Łukasz Wszołek (drums)

The post Review: SubLunar – A Random Moment of Stillness appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Post-rock, post-metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Pelican, Tool, Vulkan, Oceansize
Country: Belgium
Release date: 23 April 2025

Growing up with autism, my relationship with the concepts of solitude and authenticity was perhaps unusual. Over the years, many people have commented positively on my authenticity in spite of the social pressure for conformity. Little did they know, however, that a large amount of that perceived authenticity stemmed from sheer social ineptitude—after all, one can’t conform to rules they are unaware of or neurologically incapable of adhering to in the first place. Similarly, the frequent periods of prolonged social isolation I have gone through have seldom been voluntary. Belgian post-metal band Capitan’s second album, Facing Currents, explores the emotional struggle of discovering one’s true identity through prolonged solitude and trying not to lose that identity when reconnecting with others. My autism has forced me to undergo this process many times, maybe even to the point of trauma¹, so while I do not relate to the voluntary aspect, I did find myself moved by the concept. 

Post-metal can be a fairly homogenous genre with many bands playing some shade of Neurosis and/or Cult of Luna worship: long build ups with increasingly sludgy riffs building in complexity with tribal drumming building to an eventual cacophonous crescendo—that’s the name of the game. Capitan are primarily rooted in melodic post-rock, but regularly get heavy and incorporate tribal percussion in line with the post-metal tradition. They also integrate psychedelic elements and some proggy transitions redolent of Tool. This leads to a familiar, yet fresh overall sound in a similar ballpark to the seldom-replicated Oceansize². Further brought to life by a vivid, crystal-clear production, Facing Currents is a very immediate album. Björn Nauwelaerts has an uncharacteristically powerful voice for post-rock, and his bright tone and melancholic melodies give the songs on Facing Currents a lot of memorable moments en route to the big finish. He can also belt with the best of the best of them, giving a lot of meat to the heavier moments; most post-metal bands would place harsh vocals there but with Nauwelaerts’ performance I didn’t even miss them!

Capitan’s lyrics are poetic not in structure but certainly in how they evoke mood and emotion, immersing you in the emotional state of the protagonist as they go through the process of self-rediscovery. Water, breath, and light are used as recurring symbols to express emotional overwhelm, suffocation, loss of identity, and healing. The story of Facing Currents is not so much about the events as they are about the emotions corresponding to them: from drowning in the feelings of isolation (“Immerse”), to feeling suffocated by daily life (“Choke”) and unfulfilling relationships (“Apnea”), to the confusion and fear of an identity crisis (“Facing Currents”), to eventual healing (“A Pale Blue Light”) and refinding one’s footing in the world (“The Ascent”). The lyrics are raw and expressive, capturing the protagonist’s emotional journey with striking vulnerability. Facing Currents doesn’t even necessarily read like finding new facets of your personality; its real beauty lies in accepting and finding solace in what is already there.

Clocking in at thirty-eight minutes spread across six tracks (plus the intro), Facing Currents is refreshingly concise for a sprawling genre like post-metal. The first half is paced effectively, with each track having its own unique identity and momentum: “Immerse, Pt. I & II” are built on hypnotic tribal grooves and psychedelia-tinged guitarwork, leaning heavily on the Neurosis and Tool influences, whereas “Apnea” is a more conventional post-rock/metal hybrid track, starting with a spoken word piece and somber vocals before gradually lifting up our emotions with ethereal strumming to prepare you for the thundering, heavy grooves of the song’s second half. “Choke” keeps up the momentum as the most immediately aggressive track on the album, recalling Cult of Luna in its double crescendo structure. The second half of Facing Currents, however, starts to show Capitan’s limitations. Every remaining song starts with a long, ethereal post-rock section that becomes increasingly indistinct as the album goes on. “Facing Currents” and “A Pale Blue Light” erupt into distortion at nearly identical points in the song, and “The Ascent” only differentiates itself by keeping the floatiness for a guitar solo crescendo instead of yet another heavy climax.

This strict adherence to traditional post- song structures ends up making Capitan sound surprisingly conventional despite their distinctive palette, causing the songs to become increasingly predictable as the album goes on—a slow, clean buildup into a heavier, emotionally charged climax works only so many times before it gets stale. That is not to say the second half of Facing Currents is without stand-out moments, though. The repeating vocal motif in the title track is deeply moving, and the crushing doom riffs of “A Pale Blue Light” are a welcome change in intensity. Björn Nauwelaerts also consistently stands out for his expressive delivery, even if his melodies become a bit predictable near the end. Another point of critique is that the crescendos on Facing Currents often end up being underwhelming. Take “Apnea”, for instance, whose guitar solo and eventual doomy outro do the minimum of what is required to make them work but nothing more; or “Choke”, whose second crescendo merely repeats the pounding rhythm of the first one with no variation or development. Similarly, the guitar solo in “The Ascent” has a beautiful narrative structure but is barebones in execution and finishes the album with a disappointing fadeout. I usually found myself more compelled by the journey along the way, thanks to Capitan’s unique mix of styles, rather than the big finish.

On Facing Currents, Capitan have made a refreshing niche for themselves. They blend genres in a natural way with sophistication to evoke an ethereal yet earthy sound with powerful, melancholic melodies and rich atmospheres. But for all its sonic variety, the album often plays things structurally safe, leaning too heavily on predictable builds and familiar post-metal formulas. Still, the foundation is strong—Capitan are never anything less than competent, and they deliver some magic on a few occasions. If they can find a way to support their unique voice with more daring songwriting, they might well become one of the most exciting groups in the genre. But such is the road to self-actualization: there is always room to grow.

Recommended tracks: Immerse Pt. II, A Pale Blue Light
You may also like: Riviẽre, Múr, Mother of Millions, Sgàile
Final verdict: 6.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Independent

Capitan is:
– Björn Nauwelaerts (vocals, keyboards)
– Kevin Brondel (lead guitar)
– Rafaël Clavie (rhythm guitar)
– Jonathan Lievrouw (bass)
– Nick Boonen (drums)

1.  The Thought Spot made a great video linking autism to repeated ego death. ︎
2.  Seriously, where are the Oceansize imitators at? I need mooooooore. ︎

The post Review: Capitan – Facing Currents appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Death metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Decapitated, Behemoth, Mgła, Ulcerate
Country: Poland
Release date: 18 April 2025

More than just about anything in music, I love a well-paced, dynamic album with seamless shifts across tempos and textures—moving fluidly between crushing and gentle, intense and restrained, dark and light. I consistently reach for the type of album that feels like a journey, a vast sonic landscape to explore at one’s own pace, taking the time to soak in its many different layers. When the record ends, there’s a feeling of fulfillment, like you’ve traversed a full range of winding valleys and jagged ridges and safely reached your destination. 

With the aptly named Tooth and Nail, Dormant Ordeal offer the exact opposite: an absolutely relentless, inescapable barrage of blackened death metal. This isn’t a jaunt through an inviting aural panorama; you’re cowering in your bunker as everything around you is obliterated. Each time you try to move from cover, another wave of ruthless artillery blasts sends you back to shelter. Tooth and Nail isn’t a wondrous adventure, it’s an oppressive onslaught. So why, then, do I enjoy this album so damn much?

Dormant Ordeal have wrought a distinguishable brand of death metal that draws from several styles and fully adopts none. Their riffs have technical flair but eschew the fretboard heroics typical of tech death; dissonance is wielded with a light touch, accenting but not defining the band’s sound; and melody is a commodity to be rationed for the moments that require it. The music is pummeling, not unlike Decapitated, and a blackened edge cuts through all of Tooth and Nail, bringing aspects of Mgła and even middle-era Behemoth to mind—clearly, Dormant Ordeal fit well in the Polish extreme-metal scene. What separates Tooth and Nail is how punishingly visceral it is. 

The guitars of Maciej Nieścioruk drill right into your chest cavity and violently rip you apart. Maciej Proficz’s gruff yet articulate growls then speak venom into your exposed soul. Seriously, any time the riffs in “Halo of Bones” or “Dust Crown” batter that lowest string, I feel it. The speckless production retains a vicious bite, allowing each instrument to wage war on your ears with poised brutality. The down-tuned, overdriven bass rumbles the bones, and session drummer Chason Westmoreland’s inhuman performance bludgeons and shines in equal measure. All this, combined with some subtle ambient touches, makes Tooth and Nail one of the most sonically addicting albums I’ve heard. 

Fortunately, the album doesn’t just sound excellent—it has the songwriting and performances to match. Subtle shifts in rhythm, well-placed touches of melody and dissonance, and vocals that are somehow both emotive and atonal give a thick atmosphere alongside the incessant assault. Always at full speed, standout track “Horse Eater” cycles tirelessly among blackened tremolos, somber melodic lines, and choppier technical riffing, all bathed in a slight dissonant haze. Westmoreland finds fresh rhythms to suit each part, while displaying incredible cymbal work that ranks up there with Mgła drummer Darkside. Flexing Dormant Ordeal’s keen sense of timing, “Orphans” holds one of Tooth and Nail’s best moments, delivering a perfectly placed and absurdly heavy mid-paced bridge after nearly three minutes of blasting. “Solvent” then provides compositional contrast, building tension as clean, reverberated guitars give way to repeated distorted riffs, whispered refrains accent Proficz’s growled declarations, and the drums favor the toms over sparse snare hits. But make no mistake, there’s no breathing room here. The instrumentation remains violent, and when the song opens up, the tension sustains rather than releases. 

If one song showcases Dormant Ordeal’s ability to keep their death metal barrage engaging, it’s penultimate track “Everything That Isn’t Silence Is Trivial.” Following a rare bit of acoustic strumming, the band unleash their entire musical arsenal, keeping the tension and intensity high while coherently moving through about a dozen passages. To highlight a few, there are noisy siren-like tremolos backed by machine-gun drumming, an infectious bridge that builds into the album’s most impactful vocals, and an almost cathartic melodic outro that resolves with a final bout of blasting. When the track abruptly ends, there’s a notable feeling of exhaustion from this overwhelming show of force. Fittingly, a short, moody instrumental track (save a few whispered lines) with wailing guitars closes out the album, allowing you to come out of hiding and witness the destruction around you—a perfectly bleak ending. 

Tooth and Nail isn’t the sort of album I typically connect with, yet I can’t stop coming back to it. Its relentlessness and constant tension might be fatiguing, and it could have ventured out to further sonic territories, but Dormant Ordeal turn these potential shortcomings into defining features—a concise salvo with the production to make the shots land. So grab your helmet, join me in my bunker, and brace for another assault. With the rate I’m returning to this album, there soon won’t be much left standing.

Recommended tracks: Horse Eater, Orphans, Solvent, Everything That Isn’t Silence Is Trivial
You may also like: Vitriol, Hath, Replacire, Slugdge, Sulphur Aeon
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: Willowtip Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Dormant Ordeal is:
– Maciej Proficz (vocals)
– Maciej Nieścioruk (guitars, bass)
With guests:
– Chason Westmoreland (drums)

The post Review: Dormant Ordeal – Tooth and Nail appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by: George Gkousetis for Semitone Labs

Style: Doomgaze, Gothic Metal, Industrial Rock (Clean Vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Boris, Villagers of Ioannina City, early Lucifer, Trees of Eternity
Country: Greece
Release date: 11 April 2025

Of all the elements, none seem to me as foreboding as water. The ocean, specifically; an abyssal plain mired in secrecy, capable of projecting statements of serenity and violent obliteration alike. Despite our best efforts at taming this monolith of nature, we remain unsuccessful. We’ve corrupted it, yes, but make no mistake: the waters will one day rise and eventually devour us in our hubris, rendering the supposedly immutable strength of our technological and “civilized” world nothing more than a fanciful reef of concrete, steel, and glass. Bleak, I know, but such is the measure of Greek doomgaze trio Church of the Sea.

Two years removed from debut Odalisque, the young Athenian cohort have plumbed the halls of their barnacled worship-house to deliver a conceptual, revisionist take on Eve, reimagining Christianity’s First Lady¹ as a rebel rather than sinner. Vocalist Irene leads this somber congregation as she doles out sirenic croons atop waves of Vangelis’ sundering guitar, and a crush depth of apocalyptic darkwave summoned by the archdiocese of atmosphere, Alex (synths/samples). The mood across Eva, like the sea, is dark and roiling and yawning; as all good doom should be. There is no coast on the horizon upon which this journey shall terminate. Eva demands you either float upon its waves or be pulled under and obliterated.

Sonically, Church of the Sea succeed in generating an undertow of effectively gloomy tracks, in no small part to the gnarled electronic beats and ever-constant churn of synthetic drones, hums and eldritch wails. Some people may scoff at a metal band using electronic drums in lieu of a proper set of skins, but I will dissent and applaud the choice. Alex knows how to establish and support the mood, carving a gorgeous melancholia from his synths and beatmakers. I was reminded often of another percussively electronic band, Luminous Vault, who likewise justified their decision on Animate the Emptiness (2019) by threading the vibe and texture of the electronics into the very DNA of the music. Oftentimes, Vangelis’ guitar forms a symbiosis with its synthetic counterparts, giving Eva a holistic quality it may otherwise have lacked (see Morbid Angel’s Illud Divinum Insanus for examples of how this could’ve gone very wrong). And Irene delivers a suitably doom-y performance reminiscent of Messa’s Sara Bianchin and Tribunal’s Soren Mourne, haunting and resonant.

And yet, despite Eva’s siren charms and beautifully realized texture, I found myself fighting to stay afloat as I bobbed along. This is not an “active” album—by that, I mean do not expect any uptempo rollicking. Eva wishes to soak into you, a calculating tendril curling up from unconquerable depths to twist and turn inside your mind. Which is well and good, except my consciousness is often far afield of any such infiltration, having been coaxed into periods of forgetfulness by a tracklist which struggles to differentiate its constituent parts in riveting enough ways. Once you hear “The Siren’s Choice,” you’ve heard everything Church of the Sea have on offer here. That’s not to say tracks lift riffs or motifs from each other, just that there are no real surprises on the album, no big highlights to create a sense of journey—especially problematic if one considers Eva’s narrative aims. Even if we overlook such peckish concerns, escaping the languid vortex is difficult, to the point where track names became little more than suggestions of progress as opposed to buoys by which to orient myself on this voyage of proposed rebellion.

Church of the Sea have proven a difficult denomination to pledge myself to. Their sermons are bewitching, for a time, but too quickly they begin to mirror my (admittedly limited) experience in our own terrestrial churches.² The solemn grandeur begins to fade away and my mind wanders, seeking stimuli of a more engaging design. I welcome others to sit at Eva’s pews; just try not to judge if you see me zoning out in the back, or slipping away to see what the crabs are up to.

Recommended tracks: Garden of Eden, Churchyard, Widow
You may also like: Bank Myna, The Silent Era, Drownship, Noctambulist, Kollaps/e
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: These Hands Melt Records – Bandcamp | Instagram | Official Website

Church of the Sea is:
– Irene (vocals)
– Vangelis (guitars)
– Alex (synths/samples)

1. Unless you count Lilith, but she gets even less love than Eve ︎
2. It’s mostly been for funerals, but even the “livelier” times have been full of humdrum ︎

The post Review: Church of the Sea – Eva appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: deathgaze, progressive death metal, technical death metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Fallujah, Rivers of Nihil, Devin Townsend, Ne Obliviscaris
Country: Arizona, United States
Release date: 25 April 2025

I’ve been a regular listener of Kardashev since discovering The Almanac back in 2018, when my taste for progressive death metal was still in its fetal stage. The band’s unique blend of deathcore-adjacent breakdowns and effervescent atmospherics that they dubbed “deathgaze” was something new to my ears, and in the time since that release I’ve yet to hear another group achieve a mixture quite so potent. Since that landmark EP, Kardashev has been busy, releasing The Baring of Shadows in 2020 and Liminal Rite in 2022—the latter of which, especially the track “Compost Grave-Song,” became a mainstay in my listening. Now, Kardashev returns with Alunea, a supposed sequel to The Almanac. Do the Arizonans deliver the goods, or is Alunea a deathgaze dud?

If there’s one thing you can always trust Kardashev to nail, it’s their atmosphere. Thanks to the band’s combination of cinematic riffage, heavy-handed production, and the seemingly endless array of guttural techniques at the disposal of vocalist Mark Garrett, each build-up feels like an event. From the symphonic-tinged intro of “A Precipice. A Door.” that begins the album to the reverb and delay-laden climaxes of tracks like “Reunion” and “Below Sun & Soil,” the album delivers frisson-inducing peak after peak. While this is standard fare for any Kardashev release, Alunea continues the trend that began on Liminal Rite and sees the band add even more  technical death metal elements to their already vast sonic territory. Tracks like “Truth to Form” and “We Could Fold the Stars” each have moments that wouldn’t sound out of place on a Fallujah record, and these moments go a long way in diversifying the album’s pacing.

Within the context of progressive death metal, and especially compared to its predecessor Liminal Rite, Alunea is a lean record. Clocking in at forty-two minutes, the album forgoes the genre-typical trappings of atmospheric track transitions and lengthy intro buildups, instead getting right to the meat of each track with next to no downtime. In fact, the only transitional element to be found occurs at the end of “Truth to Form,” but even that only serves to amplify the pounding intro of follow-up track “Edge of Forever.” This no-frills approach is a double-edged sword for Alunea, as I find myself engaging with each new track but struggling to engage with the album’s concept or get invested in the album’s flow. For any normal metal release, this would scarcely be criticism, but I can’t help but want a little more concept in a sequel to a conceptual progressive death metal EP from a band as consistent as Kardashev.

Unfortunately, like many of the inter-track transitions, many of the transitions found within individual tracks on this album are too jarring for me to reconcile as a listener, even after multiple listens. While the reasons for my distaste are undoubtedly multitudinous, I can’t help but see one primary culprit: Mark Garrett’s vocals are too varied. That may seem ridiculous, but before you call bullshit, listen to any track off this album and count how many distinct guttural and clean vocal timbres hit your ears; you’ll need two hands at least. This is almost certainly due to a combination of Kardashev‘s beginnings as a pure deathcore act and the recent push from -core adjacent bands towards what has come to be known as “vocal olympics.” (Thank you, Lorna Shore!) The end result is the same as if the guitarists were dancing on their pedalboard for the entire track, constantly switching distortion sounds in what seems to be the middle of a riff. It’s that kind of thing that once you hear it, cannot be unheard.

If you are already a fan of Kardashev, you will like Alunea; I know I do. But I don’t see this album converting too many new fans. Where Kardashev’s previous releases were just as heavy and atmospheric as Alunea, they also had a much more coherent vibe. I understand that some may have called those previous releases bloated, but Alunea is an overcorrection in my eyes. In trimming the fat, Kardashev may have lost a bit of their soul. Here’s to hoping that this is just a blip in their discography and that the Arizonans once again find their footing on the next release.

Recommended tracks: Reunion, Seed of the Night
You may also like: An Abstract Illusion, Slice the Cake, Iotunn, Caelestra
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Metal Blade Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Kardashev is:
– Nico Mirolla (guitars)
– Mark Garrett (vocals)
– Alex Rieth (bass)
– Sean Lang (drums)
With guests:
– Erin Dawson (vocals)
– Pawel JJ Przybysz (duduk)

The post Review: Kardashev – Alunea appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Changeling – Changeling
Recommended for fans of: Alkaloid, Obscura, Devin Townsend, Morbid Angel, Yes
Picked by: Zach

This album is a psyop. Since I’ve listened, I’ve woken up with a new song stuck in my head every day. Today it’s the opening guitar riff and chorus of the title track, but it’s the opening homage to Princess Mononoke from “Abdication” that’s been banging around in my head the most. For those who don’t like tech-death and don’t mind harsh vocals, listen to the last two songs at the very least. Changeling even converted some of the non-tech-death heathens in our writing room, which is definitely a sign that it’s good. This is probably my favorite tech-death album since Carnosus belched out Visions of Infinihility, and I can compare both by saying they’ve got killer songwriting. Changeling are reliant on the strength of the compositions, choosing to eschew the cheap thrills of constant blast beats and sweep picking for moments that feel earned, all while displaying the virtuosity of the team of musicians Fountainhead brought together.

Recommended tracks: Instant Results, Falling in Circles, Abyss, Anathema
Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | original review

Bruit ≤ – The Age of Ephemerality
Recommended for fans of: Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Explosions in the Sky, Caspian, We Lost the Sea
Picked by: Andy

This is the single greatest post-rock album of all time, I said it. Between the most crushing, emotionally freeing climaxes I’ve ever heard and gorgeous classical and electronic buildups, The Age of Ephemerality is breathless and sublime. Each track builds and builds until they touch God, and then they keep going higher. With an electric guitar ensemble recorded in the resonant space of a church, a full string quartet, a quartet of horns, several masterful synth players and programmers, and a wickedly tight drummer, Bruit ≤ have a clear frontrunner for album of the year.

Recommended tracks: Progress / Regress, Technoslavery / Vandalism, The Intoxication of Power
Related links: Bandcamp | original review

Messa – The Spin
Recommended for fans of: Windhand, Chelsea Wolfe, Pijn, Latitudes
Picked by: Doug

Growing as an artist comes with the risk that that growth will incur a cost to the artist’s identity as a performer. Not so for Messa; the fourth outing from this Italian bluesy doom metal group remains as hauntingly beautiful as ever. As their complex potion of stylistic influences has bubbled away over the years, it’s condensed down to a supernatural potency that reflects the band’s continually expanding musical talents. The Spin further elevates Messa’s presentation to a state of transcendence through a mix of precise, technical instrumental work and Sara Bianchin’s tragically emotional singing. The band members share the spotlight for a combination of stirring choruses and otherworldly solos, and the grand culmination of their efforts for the absolutely stellar climax of “The Dress” will leave you wondering where this kind of music has been all your life. Well, wonder no longer—it’s right here!

Recommended tracks: Void Meridian, Immolation, The Dress, Thicker Blood
Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | original review

Tómarúm – Beyond Obsidian Euphoria
For fans of: Ne Obliviscaris, An Abstract Illusion, Fallujah, Wilderun
Picked by: Cory

With Beyond Obsidian Euphoria, Tómarúm envisioned a work frighteningly large in scope and shaped it into an intricate, immersive, and highly rewarding behemoth of an album. This seventy-minute journey is intense and requires quite a bit of commitment and focus. But Tómarúm provide plenty of hooks and lighter instrumental passages that serve as aural footholds, allowing you to regroup along the way. The resulting experience is wondrous and sure to please anyone who enjoys epic prog death in the vein of Ne Obliviscaris or An Abstract Illusion.

Recommended tracks: Shed This Erroneous Skin, The Final Pursuit of Light
Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | original review

Black Country, New Road – Forever Howlong
For fans of: The Beatles, black midi, Keller Williams, Steve Reich, Love, The Beach Boys, The Smile
Picked by: Cooper

If you know anything about me, you’re probably not surprised to see Black Country, New Road appear as my Album of the Month, but if you know anything about BCNR you’d realize that my love for this album wasn’t as guaranteed as it seems in hindsight. Thankfully, BCNR stick the landing in regards to switching vocalists and have once again delivered a masterful array of baroque pop instant classics. While still containing a healthy helping of post-punk angst, Forever Howlong sees the band exploring their sensitive side as vocals become the soft gooey core of nearly every track. While Forever Howlong may not reach the same heights as its predecessor Ants from Up There, it carves a new space entirely—one softer, stranger, and equally beautiful.

Recommended tracks: Two Horses, For the Cold Country, Nancy Tries to Take the Night
Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | original review

Sumac, Moor Mother – The Film
Recommended for fans of: Isis, Neurosis, Chat Pile, Thou, Mizmor
Picked by: Dave

Led by squealing, atonal improvisation, The Film is about as musically deconstructed as a metal record can get—I can count the number of conventional sludge passages across its runtime on one hand. Yet, in its wailing dissonance and amorphous improv sections, a sharp focus emerges. Moor Mother‘s spellbinding spoken word guides a vast majority of The Film, delivered with a fervor that crests by its end into an apocalyptic fury. There’s a strong attention to detail and intentionality in its improvisation: even small bits like the frantic chime jingling in the extended instrumental break of “Scene 5: Breathing Fire” exude a rhythmic punctuation when listened to closely. What The Film lacks in conventional melody and song structure it makes up for many times over in sheer brilliance both compositional and lyrical.

Recommended tracks: Scene 2: The Run, Camera, Scene 5: Breathing Fire
Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | original review

Felgrave – Otherlike Darknesses
Recommended for fans of: Stargazer, Timeghoul, The Ruins of Beverast
Picked by: Justin

Sprawlingly ambitious and truly singular; Otherlike Darknesses transcends the boundaries of death/doom metal, bringing to life a breathtaking vision of longform progressive songwriting, ever-evolving motifs, gripping textural soundscaping, and the most satisfying full album experience of the year so far for my tastes. I absolutely adore albums that have such massive ambitions, and artists who are brave enough to attempt to put them to record. Even if they fall short (they almost always do), the pure conceit behind the vision is such an awe-inspiring experience that the shortcomings end up not mattering, or even becoming singular quirks that turn into strengths over a long enough period of time. Felgrave has created one such record, my only gripe with it being: “there’s not enough of it”. Otherlike Darknesses is going to be the album to beat for 2025, and has the potential to land itself a 10/10 if it holds up over the year. Can’t recommend this one enough.

Recommended tracks: Winds Batter My Keep
Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | original review

Belnejoum – Dark Tales of Zarathustra
Recommended for fans of: Nile, Ne Obliviscaris, Fleshgod Apocalypse
Picked by: Daniel

With Dark Tales of Zarathustra, fantastical themes blend with grandiose orchestration and blistering blackened death metal to summon quite a compelling debut for Belnejoum—a band made up of both underground talents and members of well known groups including Fleshgod Apocalypse, Nile, and Annihilator. Drawing heavily from ancient Persian myth, the release conjures apocalyptic heavy tracks in almost equal measure with pensive interludes, making Dark Tales a meticulously crafted journey through flame and shadow, wrapped in a distinctly modern extreme metal sound.

Recommended tracks: Tower of Silence, On Aeshmas Wings, Upon the Mortal Blight
Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | original review

Dormant Ordeal – Tooth and Nail
Recommended for fans of: Decapitated, Behemoth, Ulcerate
Picked by: Cory

Tooth and Nail is pummeling and relentless death metal, yet still elegant and accessible. With a guitar tone that rips your insides out and vocals that speak venom into your soul, the experience is a visceral one. But Dormant Ordeal deftly wield subtle changes in rhythm and slight melodic hooks to keep the ear amidst the sonic battering. Add in the tasteful use of dissonance, beautifully clear production that retains plenty of character, and an inhuman drum performance, and you get a truly addictive album. Perhaps a glutton for punishment, I’ve returned to Tooth and Nail more than any other LP this year.

Recommended tracks: Horse Eater, Ophans, Everything That Isn’t Silence Is Trivial
Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | original review coming soon

Non-Subway Picks

Thornhill – Bodies (alternative metal, metalcore, nu metal)
The Australian quartet complete the synthesis begun on sophomore album, Heroine (2022), brewing a batch of heady, grinding alternative metal chased with shots of earworm metalcore and luxurious trip-hop to create one addictive cocktail. A sweet taste on my musical palate I haven’t been able to shake since first sip.
[picked by: Vince] 

Kaki King – Tutto Passa (post-rock, flamenco, atmospheric)
Kaki King’s signature style of flamenco-ish acoustic guitar (think Rodrigo y Gabriela, Jon Gomm, or Andy McKee) is back with this genre-spanning EP. While recent releases have fallen a bit flat, Tutto Passa is somehow a return to form while also breaking new ground for King, expanding into more atmospheric territory than usual. Tutto Passa is like a long train journey: watch different landscapes pass by with the clicking-clacking of the wheels underneath.
[picked by: Ishmael] 

Skrillex – Fuck U Skrillex You Think Ur Andy Warhol but Ur Not!! <3 (hybrid trap, brostep, dubstep) 
Umm wtf. What is Skrillex doing here? This thirty-six track album flows as a single piece, and while it’s a little cringe at times, it’s so energetic and fun it more than makes up for it by just being a banger. 
[picked by: Andy] 

Natalia Lafourcade – Cancionera (chamber folk)
Long one of my favorite musicians in the world, Lafourcade continues the style of her last album, magnum opus De Todas las Flores. That is, wonderful jazz-infused chamber folk. This time she has a full orchestral ensemble, and everything was recorded in one take with all musicians present right in the studio. She continues to create her legacy. 
[picked by: Andy] 

The post Our April 2025 Albums of the Month! appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Album art by Alex Tillbrook

Style: Alternative metal, alt-pop, djent (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: bruh it’s Sleep Token; VOLA meets Hozier plus, er, like, Imagine Dragons?
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: 9 May 2025

Today, in a special double review, Ian and Christopher take on the latest release by the biggest and perhaps most controversial band in the genre. Even in Arcadia, there are people arguing about Sleep Token!

Review by: Ian

I believe it was Sir Isaac Newton who said that “every sudden wave of hype produces an equal and opposite backlash”, and perhaps no other band today exemplifies that definitely real adage quite like Sleep Token. It’s strange to look back on the days of their initial rise, how this weird djent/R&B band from London with a Ghost-esque masking gimmick and an unusually skilled drummer exploded out of seemingly nowhere in early 2023 with a set of increasingly buzzed-about singles, culminating in the release of their blockbuster third album, Take Me Back To Eden. The countervailing surge of hatred was equally sudden, though in hindsight, not surprising. Heralded (though by no means solely initiated) by Anthony Fantano’s withering 2/10 panning of the album, they rapidly became the very definition of “uncool”¹, with many eagerly seizing upon Sleep Token‘s often unapologetically poppy songwriting and straightforward djent riffs as evidence of them being “not metal”²—a fake, pop band that you’d have to be some terminal poseur / Imagine Dragons fan / big dumb mouthbreathing coworker NPC to enjoy. 

And look, I’m not gonna sit here and tell you those criticisms were entirely baseless. TMBTE‘s attempts at straightforward pop music were indeed plasticky and unconvincing, burying Vessel’s otherwise interesting vocal timbre under suffocating layers of Autotune. And sure, much of the guitarwork felt far too basic to be sitting alongside II’s intricate, fluid drumming. But somehow… I still really liked it, dammit! For all its flaws, the album was a genuine evolution of the Sleep Token sound, an ambitious, widescreen expansion into more adventurous song structuring and genre switches with some seriously powerful, emotionally resonant melodic hooks. It’s not exactly topping my Album of the Year list, but there are people who act like this band is soulless nothing slop with zero redeeming qualities, and… I feel like we didn’t hear the same album.

But where does this leave us now? Well, Sleep Token sure as hell aren’t upstarts anymore. They’re one of the biggest bands in modern rock, possibly the biggest to come up this decade, with a massive, frighteningly devoted legion of fans and a nearly-as-vocal coalition of detractors. Thus, it was inevitable that their follow-up album, Even In Arcadia, would have massive expectations set upon it, for good and ill alike. And in terms of meeting those expectations, seven-plus minute opener “Look to Windward” is one hell of an initial salvo. Starting off with a slow burn of atmospheric, almost chiptune-esque synths beneath Vessel’s trademark croon before a barrage of pummeling guitars abruptly takes over, it comes across as a full-on showcase of every established part of the band’s sound. It’s got intricate drumming, simple yet gargantuan-sounding riffs, rattling trap percussion, and a vocal performance that ranges from smooth, cocky R&B verses to delicate, harmonized falsettos to withering, blackened screams—as if to say “We’re still Sleep Token and we can still do Sleep Token things, and do them damn well.” While it’s unlikely to convert any skeptics, it’s one of the best executions of their usual sound yet, and a reassuring reminder that their core competencies are still very much in place.

With the formula firmly re-established in the space of a single song, it’s time to sprinkle in some surprises, and that’s where subsequent song (and lead single) “Emergence” comes in. Its verses are some of the most rhythmically interesting stuff they’ve put out possibly ever, with II’s percussion sinuously twisting around some already rather syncopated vocal lines in a deliciously off-kilter clash, constantly teasing at downbeats that don’t quite arrive until the beautifully melodic choruses show up to dissipate the tension. Combine that with the gorgeous, delightfully surprising saxophone coda³ provided by Bilmuri‘s Gabi Rose, and you have yet more evidence that Sleep Token are still a decidedly progressive band despite their mainstream appeal. They’re prog in the same way that bands like Bent Knee are prog, not by having the wackiest time signatures or the weedliest solos, but by blending pop stylings with pieces of disparate genres to create a bold, adventurous sound full of stylistic and compositional left turns that defies easy categorization or comparison.

And it’s a damn good thing we’ve got that evidence, too, since unfortunately, Even In Arcadia‘s midsection gives plenty of signs that the prog gatekeepers may kinda have a point. While it’s all very competent, with some dutifully pleasant melodies and titanic, IMAX-ready chugs as per usual, much of tracks 3-8 feels like Sleep Token by the numbers, with precious few of the surprises that made previous songs like “The Summoning” so special. Tracks like “Dangerous” and “Provider” capably ratchet up the musical intensity from synthy atmosphere to elastic trap beats to stadium-filling guitar, but do little else with their musical structure, coming off a tad forgettable. The title track tries its best to be the type of achingly vulnerable piano ballad that they’ve done so well in the past, but is sabotaged by suffocating layers of movie-trailer overproduction, with only Vessel’s desperate, gritty final line managing enough emotional heft to strike a genuine chord through all the sludge. Most egregious is “Past Self”, a decent-yet-straightforward R&B snoozefest whose only surprise is that there are no surprises—no riffs, no genre mixing, just a synth arpeggio that could be coming out of a kid’s toy replica of a Legend of Zelda fairy fountain. Sure, there are bright spots—”Caramel” is a lyrically wrenching look at what it’s like to be on the receiving end of a ravenously parasocial fanbase, elevated by II’s drumming at its absolute crispest—but even that is undercut by “Provider” being a blatant wink and nudge toward the most fanatical, BookTok-horny elements of said parasocial fanbase just two songs later.

Thankfully, the last two tracks do a fair deal to right the ship. “Gethsemane” easily ranks up there with Sleep Token‘s absolute best tracks, spinning its soft, emotionally resonant falsetto intro into a shockingly intricate, mathy Midwest emo guitar riff, a long-awaited step up in complexity to stand side by side with the band’s drumming. Add in a chorus that reprises “Euclid”, quite possibly the most powerful, indelible chorus the band have ever written, and you’ve got me wondering where the hell this energy was for the past few tracks. Maybe it’s my inner sappy theater kid, but these melodramatic hooks still hit me straight in the heart no matter how overblown others may find them, and closer “Infinite Baths” keeps that streak going with aplomb. Its deliciously weepy, harmonized slow build into its gargantuan chorus is the sort of shit I eat right up, and the Pink Floyd reference in its atmospheric bridge was a fun touch. I’m a bit more mixed on its heavy closing section; though a final dose of aggression is certainly welcome in an album that is, on the whole, softer than its predecessor, it also feels like it’s spinning its wheels a tad, fading out without giving a proper conclusion.

“I know these chords are boring, but I can’t always be killing the game,” sings Vessel in “Damocles”, an apropos quote from a wildly inconsistent album in which, more than ever, the band’s aura of cult-like mysticism comes off as a thinly veiled metaphor for one decidedly mortal man’s insecurities and broken relationships. Sleep Token feel increasingly caught between contradictory impulses—the drive to innovate and push their sound forward versus the pressure to push out more of the same stuff that made them popular in the first place, the need to appease their suddenly massive fanbase versus the fear of said fans getting a little too into their music, the divine and spiritual versus the human body’s base desires… the acid versus the alkaline, one might say. The public, too, has been utterly polarized; as before, the fans of this band are going to hear an entirely different album than the haters. Yet, this time, I can hear both albums in equal measure, the innovative, heartfelt brilliance heard by the faithful existing alongside the dull, focus-grouped glurge that reaches the ears of the apostates. Perhaps this is a tightrope that Vessel and co. can continue to walk well enough, but as someone who was largely on the believers’ side beforehand, this represents a troubling shift. If it all looks like heaven but feels like hell… maybe you’re just in purgatory.

Ian’s final verdict: 6.5/10

Review by: Christopher

Metal has always suffered from a streak of elitism, bearded gatekeepers daring to pronounce upon what’s metal and what’s not, and the genre has always picked out enemies to pile upon. Avenged Sevenfold were roundly mocked for their hard rock sensibilities and emo aesthetic, virtually all of nu-metal was the subject of derision both deserved and unwarranted, and if you trust the people at Metal-Archives.com—and you shouldn’t—even prog stalwarts Between the Buried and Me are apparently not metal. The latest band to be stood in the corner and made to face the wall for their vnkvlt ways are Sleep Token, the bemasked UK group fronted by the anonymous Vessel, who claims to be the Earthly representative for an ancient deity called Sleep. The band’s amalgamation of djenting riffs, Hozier-grade sadboi pop, and libidinous RnB gloss has been met with cult-like fervour and impassioned denunciation in equal measure. Whether Sleep Token are or aren’t a) metal, b) progressive or c) good is—just like their deranged lore and Instagram posts that always begin with “Hark!” “Behold”—a matter of debate to be resolved by people who don’t wash. The band’s actual function within the musical ecosystem is a simple and time-tested one: plausible deniability for the alternative kids to claim they don’t like mainstream music while listening to something clearly deeply inspired by mainstream music and so popular in and of itself that it is, in fact, mainstream. 

Now, the blend of djent, mournful pop and hip-hop that Sleep Token peddle has, admittedly, never quite worked for me—I’m the dissenting voice in this double review, after all⁴—but on fourth album Even in Arcadia, the band have clearly lost their lustre. This Place Will Become Your Tomb was a solid work of alternative metal with a pop sheen, and the marriage of the two styles was fully consummated, carried with a poise similar to that of Denmark’s VOLA. Arcadia’s relationship with metal, however, is that of a checked-out divorced father visiting his kids every other weekend: he turns up, eventually, smelling strongly of whisky and he’s really phoning it in on this whole fatherhood thing. An unfortunately large percentage of Arcadia is Vessel’s self-pitying croons over generic RnB beats and enigmatically banal synths. When the band remember they have to include riffs in order to keep the charade alive, they’re dreadfully shoehorned. 

After a pretty successful opening number, “Emergence” settles into the banality which will come to plague Arcadia—even in Arcadia they have banality! Ancient deity Sleep has caught up with the noughties hip-hop scene, and he’s decided that his human conduit on Earth should communicate thusly. “Emergence” still has some Riffs and is a bit more compositionally finessed than the real duds in the latter half, but the, ahem, emergence of phat beats and Vessel’s generic RnB flow telegraph Arcadia’s imminent problems. Oh, and there’s a saxophone solo which appears with all the grace of a guest contribution that makes you go “oh, and there’s a saxophone solo”, possessed of a rather thin, midi-ish tone which did make me wonder if a saxophonist actually played on the record—it’s Gabi Rose and she does, and does so well, it’s the way that sax solo is mixed which I find strange to the ear (the violin solo on the title track, however, has no such credit and, therefore, may be synthesised). “Past Self” and “Caramel” lean into the type of quintessentially white hip-hop that’s plagued pop from the Backstreet Boys through Justin Timberlake all the way to post-Post Malone. The greater sin of “Caramel” is that it veers, without justification, into a heavier section with backing screams that seem completely out of place. And this happens over and over on Arcadia: Sleep Token are happy to practically stop a song so they can wedge in a requisite metal section. The riffs are no longer executed with the enthusiasm of the previous records, and there’s little energy expended to ensure the heavier and lighter elements blend smoothly. 

The more pop-centric tracks on older records still had heft: “Mine” built post-rock fashion from its jaunty synth motif into a thickly-riffed climax; the chant of “The Love You Want” was eventually accompanied in its final chorus by Car Bomb-esque wonky djent; and “Granite” allowed a thrumming eight string low-end to counter its otherwise typical poppiness. Frequently, the “heavy parts” on Arcadia’s offerings tend toward the strumming of thicc but generic bass lines in the chorus—at least on “Damocles”, Vessel has the self-awareness to admit “I know these chords are boring.” On “Gethsemane”, Sleep Token remember they were meant to record guitar parts, leading to Intervals-esque noodling that is at least engaging but feels a touch out of place. Still, this track tries out some ideas beyond the usual formula, be it Vessel’s frequent and rather refreshing utilisation of falsetto, or a bit of rhythmic start-stop in the choruses, and some better integrated djenting—even if all that is for naught when he ends up going back to the dull ol’ mid-tempo RnB. The problem is that while it wouldn’t be prudent or relevant to speculate as to Vessel’s race, his hip-hop credentials are akin to the average white middle manager’s. His flow, such as it is, barely varies, watering down every song it touches to one uninteresting idea. 

Refrains, meanwhile, are hammered home with desperate repetition, as if the band know that there are no true hooks here. How many times can you listen to a man repeat “So go ahead and wrap your arms around me, arms around me, arms around me” before you stick a butter knife in an electrical socket? Ignore my frazzled, smoking hair. Vessel’s rhyme scheme is steeped in a hip-hop flow but delivered like a sad giant workshopping his first ever diss track. Also, I don’t understand (and certainly don’t care to dig into) the lyrical themes. Supposedly, the band is centred around this eldritch terror called Sleep and is speaking His gospel, but most of Sleep Token’s lyrics are universal-yet-neutered paeans to a litany of situationships. Either Sleep Token is a failed sex cult run by a man lacking the raw sexual charisma of the late L. Ron Hubbard or Vessel is writing fanfic for his own “I’m being topped by an eldritch god”⁵ stories. Neither prospect is appealing.  

Now, those of you rooting for the prosecution in this double review will be baying for blood. But I can’t deny that Even in Arcadia has a handful of compelling moments: the tense build into the metal drop on opening number “Look to Windward” is skilfully done, even if the middle third of the track turns into a fifth-rate OneRepublic⁶ mimic. “Emergence” might not be inspired but it feels more like “classic” Sleep Token and has a sense of composition lacking elsewhere. Closing track “Infinite Baths”, despite the silly title, is the clear standout—indeed, Sleep Token have form for bookending their albums strongly. The build around halfway through the track sees string swells leading into a succession of actually thought-through djent riffs which are, again, compelling in a way that so much of Arcadia isn’t. Sleep Token understand tension and release. It’s one of their great strengths, and yet this album is almost devoid of it. 

With a little metal for the sake of keeping up appearances, Even in Arcadia leans harder into a sort of noughties hip-hop vibe that’s as purposeless as it is irritating. Vessel sings another round of curiously sexless erotic laments that are sure to keep his fans doxxing him, but the shtick is getting tired, and Sleep Token sound spent. The group’s cult-like fandom won’t notice the misstep, but this is a curiously uninspired outing for a band who, whether you consider them metal or not, are undeniably the biggest artist in the modern scene. Are Sleep Token metal? Who cares. The question you should be asking is “Am I getting old?” and you’re not gonna like the answer. 

Christopher’s final verdict: 4/10

Recommended tracks: Look to Windward, Emergence, Gethsemane, Infinite Baths
You may also like: Sermon, Rendezvous Point, Intrascendence

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

Label: RCA Records – Facebook | Official Website

Sleep Token is:
– Vessel (vocals, keyboards, guitars)
– II (drums)
With guests:
– Gabi Rose (saxophone on “Emergence”)

1. This very site is no exception, as is readily evidenced by the review accompanying mine. Enjoying these guys’ music is, shall we say, a… minority opinion around here. ︎
2. As someone who strongly views genre as something artists do rather than something they are, this whole debate perplexes me. I will simply say that Sleep Token are unambiguously a band that does metal, sometimes, and whether they spend a sufficiently large percentage of their runtime doing it to “be” metal will be left as an exercise for the people who actually give a shit. ︎
3. My fellow writer Andy called this part “cliche”, a take I would expect from someone who listens to car alarms and shrimp noises in his free time. ︎
4. Oh, you thought Ian’s 6.5 was mean? Just you wait. ︎
5.  Vessel might top or they might take it in turns. Let it never be said that this blog isn’t sex positive. ︎
6.  Remember OneRepublic? They released that one album, Dreaming Out Loud, in 2007. The most successful single was “Apologize” which Timbaland remixed. “Stop and Stare” was good, too. Then they disappeared and never made music again, or so I assumed until researching for this review which led me to the baffling discovery that they have 53 million Spotify monthly listeners and released their sixth album last year. Who the fuck is listening to OneRepublic in 2025?! ︎

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