Style: progressive metal, progressive rock, avant-garde (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Green Carnation, maudlin of the Well, Orphaned Land, Opeth
Country: Israel
Release date: 21 June 2005

We’re now twenty years from the release of Subterranean Masquerade’s debut LP, Suspended Animation Dreams. Small in its reach but huge in its scope and ambition, this charmingly weird record has mightily stood the test of time, though unjustifiably forgotten—all dusty from the crime of aging, to steal a lyric. An eight-year hiatus would follow the album, as would the band’s triumphant return, offering a solid string of releases that notably includes Subway favorite Mountain Fever in 2021. But even with SubMasq firmly back in the world of progressive music, Suspended Animation Dreams remains mired deep in the underground. So join me on a subterranean ride through a bizarre, sonically marvelous cult classic.

Subterranean Masquerade’s approach to Suspended Animation Dreams is no different from that of so many other young, progressive bands: throw everything at the wall and see what sticks. Grabbing handfuls of ideas, sounds, influences, and compositional techniques, and then hurling them exuberantly into an album is practically a rite of passage. But miraculously, just about everything SubMasq throw sticks: metal, Floydian prog, lounge jazz, Middle Eastern folk, an array of instruments and vocal styles (including the most articulate growls you’ll ever hear), a massive roster of session musicians, intertwined lyrical vignettes tackling different aspects of the human psyche, and much more. These elements combine seamlessly into a listening experience that matches the album cover’s glowing shade of orange and surreal, half-sketched figures—a warm and mystical soundscape expands and contracts into different exotic forms but never quite actualizes into something real. The whole thing’s a trip. Let’s descend further. 

Though Suspended Animation Dreams was released in 2005, its production sounds similar to a ‘90s Dan Swanö project.¹ The fuzzy guitars have body but don’t attack the ears; the drums, vocals, and bass are given enough punch to drive the music but no more; and the myriad other instruments cut through the mix but retain authenticity rather than shimmer artificially. The sound is warm, not bright—a candle softly lighting a cave, not a floodlight bleaching its walls. Suspended Animation Dreams’ mix is key to its success, as the album’s enchanting compositions maintain a dreamlike flow not disrupted by jagged sonic edges.

And flow the tracks do, each wandering freely among various textures and styles. There are a few recognizable verse- and chorus-type patterns, but they’re typically repeated or built upon with new elements—a violin accenting the second verse of “Wolf Among Sheep (Or Maybe The Other Way Around),” for example, or added percussion giving a tribal feel to what’s conceivably part of the verse in “No Place Like Home.” More representative of the album are lengthy excursions into territories less familiar to metal albums. “The Rock N Roll Preacher” may begin with relatively straightforward metal, but it soon gives way to a smooth piano-led bridge and ends with horns driving a jazzy melody. Meanwhile, after some distorted riffing and leads, “No Place Like Home” closes with an extended foray into Middle Eastern folk, complete with wordless, chant-like vocalizations. Each track has at least one passage—and more often several—that extends Suspended Animation Dreams’ aural landscape in a new, interesting direction. The fourteen-minute epic and penultimate track “Awake” then flows gracefully through nearly all of them, covering an immense amount of ground while remaining comprehensible. This stylistic cornucopia makes Suspended Animation Dreams truly unique, even twenty years after its release.

In addition to blending diverse styles intelligibly, Subterranean Masquerade perform each with incredible detail. The loungey, jazz passages dispersed across the album are lush and full. Ambient touches, such as those in the title track opening the album, are well placed and draw the ears in. And the ‘70s rock closing the album in “X” is impassioned, featuring a brilliant, Gilmour-inspired solo. When the band lean into Middle Eastern folk, the result is lively and robust, making fantastic use of both standard rock instrumentation and an eclectic mix of woodwinds, traditional percussion, and more. Between all this, it’s easy to forget that Suspended Animation Dreams is a metal album at its core, until SubMasq remind you with moments like the infectious guitar leads bookending “Six Strings To Cover Fear,” and the tremolo picking and double bass lying beneath the track’s growled verse. “Awake” ends with similarly catchy guitar leads soaring over distorted riffing, offering a climactic ending to the track’s winding, epic composition. These passages aren’t necessarily “heavy,” but the bit of added heft provides excellent juxtaposition to the lighter stretches for a richer sonic palette. 

Suspended Animation Dreams’ instrumental and compositional diversity is nearly matched by the diversity of its vocals. Paul Kuhr’s (Novembers Doom) primary delivery is a well-enunciated growl, one in which you can make out each word and subtle change in emotion. These harsh vocals fit the album’s more intense moments while also providing an emphatic contrast to softer ones—particularly effective are the emotive growls over the gentle piano passage in “Awake.” Across the album, Kuhr cycles consistently among differently textured cleans as well, ranging from stylized narration to subdued, melodic singing. Soulful female vocals embellish many of the tracks, whether as backing accents in “The Rock N Roll Preacher” or by taking center stage through much of “Awake” and “X.” The ever-changing vocals further imbue the album with a dreamy feel: one moment, an articulate demon is speaking; the next, an inner voice is narrating; and soon after, a women’s choir echoes through with a sense of hope. Yet, somehow, it all remains coherent. 

Ultimately, it’s the album’s full experience that makes our expedition deep in the underground worth the effort. Beyond what Suspended Animation Dreams offers musically, its surreal atmosphere and sense of adventure give it enduring appeal. The descent begins with the titular opener, as Kuhr announces, “For the rest of the session, you will be asking yourself, ‘Am I going crazy?’” From there, a transportive magic takes hold as the tracks unwind, journeying the listener fluidly through different aural surroundings until unintelligible chants intensify behind the final guitar solo in “X” and end abruptly to close the album. This sudden ending is a snap back to the above-ground world left waiting as our voyage ran its course. I’m yet to experience another album quite like it. 

With Suspended Animation Dreams, Subterranean Masquerade charted a spellbinding trip that sacrificed nothing in its songwriting or performance. The album stands as one of progressive metal’s great, unique debuts, even if it continues to reside deep below the genre’s surface. Although Suspended Animation Dreams holds an unrepeatable magic, fortunately, the band have steadily released quality album after quality album, cementing themselves as a Subway favorite and a stalwart of folky, progressive music. SubMasq’s debut might have been lost in time, but the band remain present—and with four years since their last release, we’re about due for another one. If the last twenty years have taught us anything, we’ll be shouting their praises from the underground again soon enough.

Recommended tracks: No Place Like Home, Six Strings To Cover Fear, Awake
You may also like: Papangu, OMB, Seventh Station, Obsidian Tide, In the Woods…

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

The End Records

On Suspended Animation Dreams, Subterranean Masquerade was:
– Paul Kuhr (vocals)
– Tomer Pink (guitars, dulcimer, harmonica)
– Jake DePolitte (guitars, bass guitar)
– Steve Lyman (drums)

With guests:
– Kobi Farhi (additional vocals in “No Place Like Home”)
– Mike Sartain (additional vocals in “The Rock N Roll Preacher”)
– Mitch Curinga (electronics)
– Joe Chrisholm (trombone)
– Willis Clow (guitars, mandolin, spoken vocals)
– Andrew Kuhnhausen (saxophone, clarinet, flute, spoken vocals)
– Wendy Jernijan (additional vocals in “Awake”)
– Wayne Burdick (percussion)
– Yishai Sweartz (additional vocals in “No Place Like Home”)
– Sarah Pendleton (spoken vocals)
– Bronwen Beecher (strings)
– Susan Naud (vocals)
– Dave Chrisholm (trumpet)
– Ben Warren (piano, hammond organ)
– Samuel Johnson (spoken vocals)

1.  Dan Swanö wasn’t involved in Suspended Animation Dreams, but he would go on to mix and master both the first EP and LP Subterranean Masquerade released following their hiatus. What’s more, Swanö handled mixing duties for now-ex-SubMasq vocalist Paul Kuhr’s other band, Novembers Doom, on their album The Pale Haunt Departure, which was released just months before Suspended Animation Dreams. ︎

The post Lost In Time: Subterranean Masquerade – Suspended Animation Dreams (20th Anniversary) appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: prog metal, prog rock, power/prog (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Dream Theater, Symphony X, Threshold, Fates Warning, Queensrÿche
Review by: Andy
Country: US-PA
Release date: June 7, 2005

From the debut through Legacy, Shadow Gallery were signed with Magna Carta Records, but Room V brings one of the biggest changes to the band’s career with a switch to InsideOut Music. As a result, Room V has slicker production and a more streamlined sound, though still with the band’s uniquely recognizable sound. What’s more is that as evident within just a minute of opener “Manhunt”–which features a melodic reprisal of “Christmas Day” in the piano–Room V is a direct sequel to my favorite Shadow Gallery album, Tyranny. So will Shadow Gallery fall into the timeless hole of the sequel being inferior, or can they possibly use their new label and sound as an impetus to equal–or potentially even surpass–their previous magnum opus? 

Room V starts with banger after banger: “Comfort Me,” a metallic duet between Mike Baker and Laura Jaeger, precedes the gruff heavy metal of “The Andromeda Strain,” which leads into the Dream Theater-like and emotionally humongous track, “Vow.” Throughout the super strong front third, the old dog Shadow Gallery also tries some new tricks to great effect–the grand pause preceding the uber-melodic guitar solo with callbacks to Tyranny in “Comfort Me” sends shivers down my spine and the vocal layering in all the choruses sounds like Blind Guardian on A Night at the Opera, as indulgent as it is mellifluous. “Vow,” however, gets dangerously close to Dream Theater. At 2:00, the progression is almost note for note that of “Misunderstood,” and the guitar tone in the solo is the same decadent “chocolate cake” tone of John Petrucci. But the song is so emotionally resonant and beautifully crafted that these similarities are easy to overlook. 

Unfortunately, in the next third of Room V, Shadow Gallery largely forget they have one of the greatest prog metal singers ever, eschewing vocals except for during the brief, heart-wrenching track “Lamentia” and the overall boring “Torn.” This poor pacing is especially egregious considering the pretty stuffed full CD length of the album–seventy-six minutes. While the band’s talent remains throughout the consecutive shred instrumentals, a one-minute lament, another instrumental, and an annoying synth track, the section remains a slog to get through more than anything. They enlist the help of Arjen Anthony Lucassen (Ayreon) to provide lead guitars on “Seven Years,” and his tone is a standout across this whole stretch, but I wish Shadow Gallery would have given him a full song to improve like James LaBrie got on “I Believe” rather than essentially a third straight instrumental track–I won’t bother counting the brief “Lamentia.”

Thankfully, Shadow Gallery bring the high quality back for the final four prog metal tracks to close out the Tyranny/Room V concept, reaching close to the dizzying heights of swaths of the band’s earlier material. “The Archer of Ben Salem” is positively raucous, Mike Baker adding some grit to his singing previously unheard while a plodding bass carries forward a typically engaging Shadow Gallery guitar part. These final tracks also vibrantly declare the end of the epic concept: “The Archer of Ben Salem” has a line about the “new world order,” “Encrypted” casually drops the word “tyranny,” and “Rain” references “Alaskan forests.” The only major fault with this ending sequence for me is how much of a pain they can be to get to since they follow so many tracks of uninteresting material. “Encrypted” through “Room V” can become somewhat of a blur–no fault of their own merit. 

Shadow Gallery did not match or surpass Tyranny on a sequel, even backed by a new label which arguably crispened the production (though I would claim that Room V sounds more homogeneously standard “prog metal” than earlier Shadow Gallery, sacrificing charm for a  technically clearer sound). Moreover, the pacing is Shadow Gallery’s worst except for the isolated track “Ghostship.” Room V demonstrates a scary sign of decline in Shadow Gallery’s creativity, but does this trend signal further impending decline, or can Shadow Gallery pull back from the brink?

Recommended tracks: Comfort Me, Vow, The Archer of Ben Sale
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

Label: InsideOut Music – Website | Facebook

Shadow Gallery is:
– Mike Baker (lead vocals, R.I.P. 2008)
– Carl Cadden-James (bass, fretless bass, flute, backing vocals)
– Gary Wehrkamp (guitar, keyboards, backing vocals)
– Chris Ingles (keyboards)
– Brendt Allman (guitars, backing vocals)
– Joe Nevolo (drums)

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