Style: Avant-garde, experimental, progressive metal, world music (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Igorrr, Wardruna, Eolya, Forndom
Country: Iceland
Release date: 14 July 2025

When you’re in the reviewing game long enough, it feels like you’ve seen it all. We’re within days of my third anniversary writing for The Progressive Subway, and 2025 feels like a wasteland. The blog is depressed by the lack of good new releases, the usual summer lull is hitting harder than ever, and I’m sifting through everything that’s available to review without enthusiasm. Insipid trad prog? No thanks. Uninspired prog rock? Not on your life. Middling djent debut? God, please smite me down. Sometimes you just feel that new releases no longer inspire you the way they did when you were a wide-eyed young reviewer with enthusiasm and hopes and dreams. If I employed a compass to point me to the interesting new releases, where would it take me?

Perhaps to Spaniard at large in the land of the ice and snow, Mario Infantes, formerly of baroque metal group Cult of Lilith, who has returned with a second solo effort, Bitácora (from the Spanish for binnacle: the casing for a ship’s compass). Exploring a range of moods and genres, Infantes melds a wealth of folk traditions with metal and symphonic influences, exploiting an ensemble of instruments from various countries in the process. The resulting concoction bears resemblances to his alma mater group, as well as the work of Igorrr, but utilises a rather different sonic palette. Singing in both Spanish and English (and quite possibly in other languages), Infantes leads the project as a multi-voiced, multilingual, multi-instrumentalist. He has a natural, operatic tendency, from Einar Solbergian high falsetto to resounding tenor, utilising Igorrr-esque harshes, layered choral harmonies, throat-singing (or close to it), and some more performative voice acting—moments of laughing, spoken word, even something akin to rap.

The instrumental bed, meanwhile, is a deft blend of metal instrumentation and folk instruments from around the world. Handpan features heavily, forming a raindrop dressing for the contemplation of ballad “Streams” and the Balkan lament “Notre Prison”, while a dissonant chiming gamelan underpins “Xhadhamtje”. At various other junctures, we hear from duduk (an Armenian double-reeded woodwind), bansuri (Indian bamboo flute), oud (Middle Eastern lute), zurna (double-reeded woodwind)¹, and doubtless more that my untrained ear failed to pick out. When the riffs come, they often have a rather loose structure, allowing Infantes to use them as an emphatic texture rather than as a restrictive rhythm that hampers the madness of his sonic science, perhaps best heard on “Cianuro”, where the riffs constantly morph, rarely repeating a measure. The resulting concoction is international yet seamless; while a particular section might sound Indonesian or Spanish or Eastern European, the totality seems borderless, the creation of a citizen of nothing smaller than the world itself. 

“Xhadhamtje” is probably the most avant-garde swing on the album with Infantes’ throaty keening and a palimpsest of sinister whispers and nightmare sounds ala Ecophony Rinne, giving way to an enormous operatic crescendo with help from shrieking guest vocalist, Stirga, and an eruption into metal riffs, all underpinned by a nightmarish windchime motif. “Muharib Alqifaar” opens with zurna, Phrygian wails and mysterious oud picking, before exploding into heavier and heavier riffs, and while the coda of Spanish rap feels tacked on, it’s mostly a very successful journey through Bitácora’s various modes. Closing epic, “Cianuro”, operates similarly: a nine-minute distillation of Infantes’ various idiosyncrasies, from balladic crooning sections to upsurges of manic metal. In these heavier moments, the guitar tone and prominence of the bass in the mix, as well as some of the operatic tendencies and manic harshes, have more than a whiff of Igorrr about them, but Infantes owns his sound for himself.

Indeed, it’s in his restraint that this is most apparent: “Sírenu” largely consists of Infantes and an oud with strings before its orchestral crescendo and a gorgeous guest performance from Sunna Friðjónsdóttir. “Away” relies heavily on handpan, much like “Streams” before it, growing inexorably toward a cathartically rhythmic, ritualistic chant. “Streams” is probably the most accessible track on the album, the swelling strings in its chorus proving genuinely stirring. Infantes excels at giving each track a distinct personality of its own, and intersperses the more experimental and heavy sojourns with calming palate cleansers; the softer moments are, perhaps, the album highlight, their meditativeness and sublimity proving a soothing palliative. 

As Bitácora closes with its conclusive coda of lo-fi flamenco and scatting, it’s hard not to feel like you’ve just returned from some astrally projected existential journey and come to at the corner table of a Spanish bar; after such a unique sonic adventure, it feels necessary to sit contemplatively for a minute or two. Certainly, Infantes is a remarkable musician and composer. And while the avant-garde scene can be demanding, and not every swing here lands, far more hit the mark than in the average work of this genre. Far too often, experimental composers throw everything at the wall to see what sticks, leaving listeners with an all too disjointed affair. But Bitácora manages that rare thing: an evocative, flowing listen with peaks and valleys, genuine emotion, and moments like a sonic punch in the face. A much-needed reminder that there are always innovative artists plugging away at their craft, and it’s nice when the compass leads you straight to them. 

Recommended tracks: Streams, Sírenu, Cianuro
You may also like: Maud the Moth, Evan Carson, Elend, Ivar Bjørnson & Einar Selvik
Final verdict: 8/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Instagram

Label: Lost Future Records – Bandcamp | Official Website

Mario Infantes is:
– Mario Infantes (vocals)

With guests:
– Hrafnkell Örn Guðjónsson (Drums)
– Yara Polana (acoustic guitar)
– Gísli Gunnarsson (additional orchestration)
– Ásgeir Ásgeirsson (Oud)
– Sunna Friðjónsdóttir (additional vocals)
– Živa Ivadóttir (additional vocals)
– Simon Thorolfsson, (guitar on Obsidian I)
– Samúel Örn Böðvarsson (Bass)
– Daniel Þór Hannesson (guitars)
– Sebas Bautista (additional guitars)
– Tayebeh jourbonyan (additional vocals)
– Erik Qvick (additional percussion)

1. Infantes’ Instagram page has lots of great little videos where he demonstrates these instruments and talks a bit about them. ︎

The post Review: Mario Infantes – Bitácora appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

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.

No artist credited

Style¹: Avant-prog, art pop, neo-psychedelia (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Cardiacs, Gentle Giant, Mr. Bungle, Frank Zappa
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: April Fools, 2025

Excuse my language, but what the fuck is this? Prog rock might have gotten stale with all the competent yet unimaginative 70s worship groups out there², but some bands take the concept of innovation to levels where you start wondering whether they even set out to create an enjoyable experience in the first place. In such a tradition do we find vaguely Cardiacs-adjacent³ British avant-prog ensemble Lost Crowns. Ensemble groups in prog aren’t exactly new—Meer has seen great underground success as of late—but Lost Crowns are a wholly different breed, and their latest offering The Heart Is in the Body is—ironically—possibly one of the purest intellectual constructs in music I’ve heard to date. Let’s dissect this bad boy, shall we?

How many different things can you play at once while keeping a coherent arrangement? If Lost Crowns are to be believed, the answer to that question is yes. Vocal harmonies, ever-shifting polyrhythmic drumming, percussive and melodic guitar lines, keyboards in sync with only the kick drum on the lower end while in counterpoint with the rhythm guitar on the higher end, wind instruments playing atonal melodies, often all at the same time define much of The Heart Is in the Body. If you get dizzy reading that, deciphering all the madness while listening is bound to make your brain explode. Lost Crowns bring nearly every Western European instrument under the sun into this album as well: saxophone, clarinet, bassoon, harmonium, flute, violin, bagpipe, dulcimer, and a whole lot more you can read in the credits below. These instruments are brought together in a crystal clear, cosy mix with just enough reverb to evoke a chamber feeling, meaning not a single note is Lost in Crown’s quest to overstimulate the listener.

“Try not to think, you need to feel the music!” my mom would often say while I was growing up, but jeez, Lost Crowns do not go for any easily recognizable feeling either. With how choppy and angular not just the rhythm section but also the vocal melodies and lead instruments are, listening to The Heart Is in the Body becomes rather akin to a solfège exercise than an emotional journey of any kind. “The Same Without”, for example, starts with a melancholic, serene atmosphere consisting of nothing but vocals, harmonium, and some strings. Chaos erupts when guitars, drums, and keyboard come in, and so little of the opening mood remains that we might as well have been in a different song. After that, only the chorus (?) provides some sense of recognizable catharsis; everything else is an overly well-designed labyrinth. Even though Lost Crowns usually maintain a sense of narrative in their songs, they also pull out the rug from under you at any given time with rhythmic switch-ups and unpleasant atonal melodies. It’s hard to care about where a song will go next if it switches things up fifteen times in the time it takes to form that thought. All the variety in instrumentation and layering cannot save The Heart Is in the Body from the monotony of its chaos. 

The two major exceptions to the maximalist style on The Heart Is in the Body are “O Alexander” and closing epic “A Sailor and His True Love”, which are overwhelmingly atmospheric tracks. The former is a disorienting psychedelic piece while the latter ventures into folk territory, somewhat bringing Comus to mind in its estranging yet somehow cosy mix of genres. Both tracks lose themselves to off-kilter indulgence at points, but on the whole stand out for their relatively simple arrangements. Merely allowing some breathing room for the instruments instead of cramming in a dozen at once does wonders for the emotional connection that was lacking otherwise. These songs still aren’t easy to follow by any means, but considering how hard the rest of the album is to listen to, they are a blessing. 

Safe to say, The Heart Is in the Body is an utterly bewildering album. At its best, you’ll find some of the most interesting, challenging music you’ll hear all year; at its worst, you’ll also find some of the most interesting, challenging music you’ll hear all year, but this time in a bewildering manner with a level of chaos that makes Between the Buried and Me seem tame in comparison. For the majority of the album’s duration, I fell in the latter camp; however, I do expect that our analytically inclined readers will have a field day with this album’s intense attention to detail and frighteningly complex narrative structure. Do proceed with caution, however, because The Heart Is in the Body is not for the faint of heart, nor the faint of body.

Recommended tracks: She Didn’t Want Me, A Sailor and His True Love
You may also like: Good NightOwl, Comus, Stars in Battledress, Eunuchs, Cime
Final verdict: 4/10

1. Alternatively, according to my colleague Tim: Canterbury prog on crack. ︎
2.  We’re actually severely lacking in classic prog rock specialists on our staff so if you’re into that and like to write about music, please consider applying! ︎
3.  Main man Richard Larcombe and his brother James were in Stars and Battledress who have played shows with Cardiacs. James also mixed The Garage Concerts. ︎

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram | Rate Your Music

Label: Independent

Lost Crowns is:
– Nicola Baigent (clarinet, bass clarinet, saxophone, recorder, flute)
– Charlie Cawood (bass guitar, double bass, handbells, sitar)
– Sharron Fortnam (vocals)
– Keepsie (drums, handbells)
– Richard Larcombe (lead vocal, guitar, harmonium, harp, tin whistle, violin, cello, concertina, English border bagpipe, dulcimer)
– Rhodri Marsden (piano, keyboards, bassoon, saw, recorder, tremelo guitar, percussion, theremin, vocals)
– Josh Perl (keyboards, vocals)

With guests:
– Mark Cawthra (vocals on 2, 5 and 6)
– Susannah Henry (vocals on 3)
– James Larcombe (hurdy gurdy on 8)
– Sarah Nash (vocals on 3 and 7)

The post Review: Lost Crowns – The Heart Is in the Body appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: free jazz, avant-garde drone, Hindustani classical music, ritual ambient (mostly instrumental, clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Sunn O))), Sun Ra, Ravi Shankar
Country: Belgium
Release date: 11 April 2025

Art is subjecti… shut the fuck up. My viewpoint is certainly colored by being a reviewer, but while the enjoyment of art is subjective, I certainly believe that there are objective qualities to the form. The Belgian collective Neptunian Maximalism (NNMM) released one of the best and most important experimental albums of the 20s thus far, Éons. While I do find it a pleasure to listen to on occasion, at three disks long and about two hours of free jazz/drone metal/ritual ambient, simply considering another listen sometimes feels nauseating. But removed from the plane of subjectivities like taste (preferring to listen to a shorter album, for instance), Éons is genre redefining, taking drone metal to the zenith of its creativity and then some. With several engaging and trippy live releases since then, the collective have released their newest live-ish work, La Sacre du Soleil Invaincu (LSDSI). Listening to LSDSI is practically a spiritual experience. NNMM lived in St John’s on Bethnal Green church in London for four days to integrate themselves within the space, to meld with its architecture and energy. Over the course of that stay, LSDSI was born. While it’s guaranteed to be a difficult listen, does LSDSI reach the objectively amazing heights NNMM attained in 2020?

Like Éons, LSDSI is an intimidating triple album comprised of three classical Hindustani ragas¹: Marwa, Todi, and Bairagi, interpreted by NNMM as “Dusk,” “Arcana,” and “Dawn,” respectively. Its music is ecstatic, thrumming with an indescribable energy; that NNMM were divinely inspired by their sanctuarial sojourn is clear, yet unlike Éons, LSDSI doesn’t wield a chaotic, primordial energy with brusque free jazz and tribal ambient. In place of the power of nature—Éons details an apocalyptic event—is the power of a deity (or deities). The Church-setting of the recording is translated by the Hindustani overtones—music for the soul. Meditative classical passages such as at the first movement of “Arcana” are not merely imitations of traditional Indian music; project supervisor Sundip Balraj Singh Aujla as well as the instrumental masterminds behind NNMM all have experience with the medium—I’d recommend Czlt, Hindustani drone metal project of NNMM’s guitarist, vocalist, trumpeter, and zurna and surbahar player, Guillaume Cazalet. He is a true student of the tradition.

Along with the Hindustani classical music sections, heavy guitar drones reverberating through the Church form the base of NNMM’s sound, upon which the collective painstakingly layer a variety of other instruments to perfect their sonic tapestry, including a diverse collection of Middle Eastern and South Asian instruments: electric saz, daf, zurna, and surbahar. LSDSI is improvisational, too, letting whatever divine muse resides in St John’s on Bethnal Green use them as a mouthpiece, yet NNMM always remain grounded in the ragas. 

Starting with “At Dusk : Raag Marwa,” the plot of all three tracks is unveiled—slowly. While the larger-than-life, rapturous crescendos, such as the vocals seven minutes into “Vilambit Laya Alaap” or the faster-paced metal in the second movement “Drut Laya, Chaotic Polyphonic Taan Combinations” in “Arcana” are divine, so many of the album’s hundred minutes are vacuous buildups serving only as a way to set the stage. It’s difficult to call them pointless; they have meditative power and are clearly integral to NNMM’s experience of the Church and the live performance. However, the length of time between noteworthy sections grows tedious almost immediately. The guitar tones are your average drone, and drone they do, typically without accompaniment from enough of the ensemble to maintain my attention more than a Sunn O))) album would. Even when the rest of the collective joins the fray, the result can still be incredibly arduous to get through, the longform compositions a bit too challenging. The second and third movements of “At Dawn” are incredibly satisfying when they hit, the grumbling electric bass and stoner-y guitar parts giving way to rapturous vocal parts; but I can’t help but compare these moments to Wyatt E.’s stellar tribal drone release from January which accomplished as much spiritually captivating drone… in a third of the time commitment of LSDSI. The highs on LSDSI match any drone release ever—listen to the buildup of “At Dawn” culminating in “Sthayi & Antara Composition”—but with so much empty space as a fan not present in the Church during the recording, the album seems impossible to approach. 

I don’t think that LSDSI is an objective masterpiece like Éons, and it’s certainly also a difficult album to turn on unless you like meditating to distortion—in which case, LSDSI is right for you. However, LSDSI is still worth listening to, capturing the energy and power of a spiritual place and only further cementing the group at the top of my bucket-list of bands to see live. NNMM are clearly one of the most forward-thinking groups in metal, and I look forward to what they offer us next, even if it’ll certainly be a hefty time commitment of ambitious and challenging music.

Recommended tracks: Arcana, At Dawn
You may also like: Wyatt E., Zaaar, Czlt, Sol
Final verdict: 6.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label: I, Voidhanger Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Neptunian Maximalism is:
Stephane Fedele : Drums, Gong
Didié Nietzsch : Synthetiser, iPads
Romain Martini : Rythm Electric Guitar
Reshma Goolamy : Electric Bass Guitar, Vocals
Joaquin Bermudez : Electric Saz, Ebowed Electric Guitar, Daf
Guillaume Cazalet : Lead Electric Guitar, Vocals, Trumpet, Zurna, Surbahar

1. A raga is the underlying structure of Hindustani classical music, each one containing specific motifs allowing the musician to improvise on a provided melodic framework. The theory behind Indian classical music is vastly different from Western classical but extremely interesting. Please feel free to read up on it here! ︎

The post Review: Neptunian Maximalism – Le Sacre du Soleil Invaincu (LSDSI) appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal, avant-garde (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Arcturus, Tom Waits, Nick Cave, Leprous’s first two albums
Country: Norway
Release date: 27 September 2013

In the fall of 2013, two newly released albums—both coincidentally named after symbolic, elevated landmarks—filled my headphones incessantly and etched their way into my brain forever: Haken’s monumental The Mountain, and Vulture Industries’ lesser-known The Tower. The former launched Haken into prog royalty and has stood proudly as one of the genre’s modern peaks, while the latter created some short-lived cult buzz and has since remained all but abandoned. I won’t cry ‘Injustice!’ or argue here that The Tower deserves the same exalted fate as The Mountain, but a dozen years ago I held them in the same regard—and to this day, I still do. 

The Tower is a work that simultaneously sounds like everything else and nothing else out there—to me, that’s what makes it so magnetic. To use a needlessly pretentious analogy, replace a wine connoisseur tasting a complex red with a seasoned listener sampling this release: ‘Ah, yes, a full Arcturus body with strong notes of Tom Waits and Nick Cave theatrics; oh, some hints of Devil Doll and Faith No More, perhaps with early Leprous undertones as well…’ You get the point. But The Tower is much more than its influences. Vulture Industries spun whatever inspiration they had gathered into a work that is distinctly their own, striking a delicate balance between fresh and familiar. Accessible, but never bland.

The Tower’s titular opening track perfectly depicts the album’s ‘like everything else and nothing else’ sound. Beginning with rapid double bass drumming, accompanying guitar, and a drooping saxophone accentuating the melody, Vulture Industries appear to fit in neatly with other Norwegian metal and avant-garde artists of the period. Bjørnar Nilsen’s baritone voice belts out over a well-written and somewhat standard verse and chorus, and then the real fun begins:

‘Rule number one!’ Nilsen shouts, in a demented, authoritative tone. ‘Each man is what he owns. Whether or not one truly exists is a question of having things.’ ‘Rule number two!’ he continues, still with a deranged yell. ‘Things have purpose while the only purpose of flesh is to possess them.’

Nilsen goes on to manically list five rules of the authoritarian, hyper-consumerist and decaying society that The Tower brings to life, before the band switches abruptly yet naturally into a smooth, groovy bridge carried by a sax lead. Not long after, Nilsen gives what sounds like his best Gollum impression in another bridge that’s sandwiched between two melodic choruses—and somehow it all works. We’re hardly three minutes into the album and the scope of the quirky ride we’re in for is already clear. 

Nilsen’s theatrical vocals focus just as much (or more) on dramatic storytelling as on technical delivery, and his vocal ingenuity plays a large part in separating The Tower from the endless other releases that spend a shorter time living between my ears. Two particular moments grabbed me on my very first listen and haven’t let go in the twelve intervening years: the collection of spirited calls and militaristic responses toward the end of “Divine – Appalling,” and the way Nilsen bursts out into the chorus of “The Pulse of Bliss” following his subdued, raspy verses—‘Blood upon stone! Consecrate, unify!’ (Goosebumps every time.) The whole album is chock full of such moments, adding up to a vocal performance that, in my case, I can describe as ‘unforgettable’ without being hyperbolic.

As instrumentalists and composers, Vulture Industries are no slouches either. “Blood on the Trail” is a prime example of just how well the band carries out its more standard metal fare, and the tightly composed “Divine – Appalling” and “The Pulse of Bliss” each showcase a strong rhythm section and an array of infectious riffs. Meanwhile, waltzy bars of 3/4 carry the epic “The Hound” on an eclectic and brooding journey through several of The Tower’s dynamics. There’s the eccentric, twisted ballad “The Dead Won’t Mind,” which could be at home on Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds’ Murder Ballads, and there’s the lush, emotional cut “Lost Among Liars” providing delightful contrast a few tracks later. Whether throwing down heavy riffage or wandering off on cabaret-inspired diversions replete with bouncy keys, Vulture Industries do it with grace. The ‘like everything else’ and ‘like nothing else’ aspects of The Tower’s sound coalesce masterfully into a work that has aged like a fine… no, not this analogy again!

Ultimately, The Tower’s effect as a complete package is what makes it worth profiling all these years later. Maybe once in a career (or, like seven times if you’re Death or Iron Maiden) a band will formulate a vision or concept that transcends other works of its ilk and execute each detail with intent. Between the dark, sardonic artwork adorning the album’s cover and the colorful lyrical metaphors of each track—breathing new life into tired topics like the dangers of authoritarianism and consumerism—Vulture Industries craft a thick, alluring atmosphere; they then materialize it artfully with diverse yet harmonious compositions and performances never lacking in character. Cliché as this praise may be, The Tower is not just a collection of excellent songs but also an immersive plunge into the evocative world Vulture Industries have created. 

*                                        *                                        *

Witnessing an album you love catapult a band to (very relative) stardom is one of the great joys of following music outside the mainstream, and since the fall of 2013 I’ve felt a certain connection to Haken and The Mountain because of this. But there’s also a satisfying ‘in the know’ feeling that comes with taking another listen through Vulture Industries’ little-known contemporary counterpart and thinking, ‘Man, folks out there don’t know what they’re missing.’ Of course, here at The Subway, we’re selflessly willing to sacrifice some hipster-esque satisfaction and shine a light on gems buried deep in the underground—or, in The Tower’s case, an obscure peak off in the distance. Vulture Industries’ cult classic has quietly accompanied me through over a decade of sweeping life changes,¹ and our modest platform is a fitting place to heap some well-deserved recognition upon it.

Recommended tracks: The Tower, Divine – Appalling, The Hound, The Pulse of Bliss, Lost Among Liars
You may also like: Hail Spirit Noir, Unexpect, OMB, Dog Fashion Disco, Dissona

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

Label: Season of Mist – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Vulture Industries is:
– Kyrre Teigen (bass)
– Tor Helge Gjengedal (drums, percussion)
– Eivind Huse (guitars)
– Øyvind Madsen (guitars, keyboards)
– Bjørnar Nilsen (vocals, keyboards, percussion, additional guitars)

1. Speaking of life changes, I’m getting married this summer and we’re beginning our honeymoon with a day at Hellfest (romantic, I know). As fate would have it, guess who’s playing—Vulture Industries. ︎

The post Lost In Time: Vulture Industries – The Tower appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal, progressive rock, avant-garde metal, zeuhl (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Mastodon, Sun-Ra’s Arkestra, Magma, Gentle Giant
Country: BRASIL CAMPEÃO DO MUNDOOOOOOOOOO
Release date: September 6, 2024

Change is scary. What’s even more scary is that at any moment, your favorite prog influenced metal band could drop the thing that made them cool and become synonymous with dad rock (Opeth, Leprous, etc.). But prog is all about change, going against the norm, doing your own thing with the music. Damn the fans, and give a big “Fuck you!” to genre labels. Just don’t go too far against what I want to hear, or else I’ll give you a bad score.

I’ll be real with you prog nerds for a moment: all your favorite albums have been the successful result of someone slamming two of the opposite genres together. Fusing rap and metal has been done before, but this year’s JPEGMafia has proven to be far more innovative and interesting than, let’s say, Skindred. But it shocks me that not many people have tried to slam zeuhl and metal together, especially considering the two are practically distant cousins of one another. Hell, nobody gets it right the first time, but Papangu somehow has. Twice.

Holoceno was characterized by grinding riffs and a fusion of Mastodonian sludge sensibilities with Gojira’s environmentally conscious storytelling plus the zeuhl of Magma. While this works for an album about the slow, inevitable death of planet Earth by human means, this doesn’t strike as something that would work for a story about the Brazilian historic figure Lampião. Papangu were already five steps ahead, as they’ve completely revamped their sound, ready to tell a tale of the hardships that brought young Lampião to his place in Brazilian history.

I’m an ignorant American who only knows the likes of George Washroom, Thomas Jetson, and that guy they made the musical about, so I figured I owed it to myself to do a bit of research on Lampião and his place in Brazil’s history. He was a bandit leader who fought against paramilitary police forces, even when the odds were stacked against him, and was  characterized by both the brutality he showed towards his enemies and the loyalty he showed to his comrades. Even if I can’t understand the lyrics, Lampião Rei perfectly captures this life story in its musical storytelling.

Unlike Holoceno, Lampião Rei starts with quiet acoustic guitar and clean vocals. Gone are the sludge riffs, replaced with the imagery of young Lampião working as his father’s farmhand in Northeast Brazil. ‘Acende a Luz II and III’ builds where our intro left off before erupting into harsh vocals backed with keyboards. Before I realized it, I was witnessing the most perfect union of Magma and metal I could imagine. The production absolutely shines in this first track, even with blaring keyboards for practically the whole song. None of it felt overblown or cramped, and it was clear that Papangu understood how to craft this record to get their message across sonically.

The replay factor of this album is almost immense. Every new listen, there were new layers to uncover, especially as Papangu have grown into a six-piece jazz orchestra (seriously, look at the Bandcamp credits for the immense number of instruments and guest players involved), each song has so much more to chew on than Holoceno. With this almost whiplash-inducing change in style, Papangu have practically mastered their descent into jazz-rock-mixed-with-metal territory. As much as I liked the sound of Holoceno, I feel that this is the sound Papangu were always going for. ‘Maracutaia’ as a single almost feels like this new sound’s mission statement, starting with its off-kilter piano all the way to its many jazzy breakdowns. 

‘Boitatá (Incidente na pia batismal da Capela de Bom Jesus dos Aflitos)’ is just about the most you’ll get of “old” Papangu, with a much more laid-back approach to its bass driven main riff. But the jazzy, staccato guitar and vocal combo keep it leagues apart from the previous effort, once again proving that they refuse to be constrained to just one sound. Even as the song starts with that grinding riff, the song crescendos near the five-minute mark before boasting an incredible flute solo. As much as I hear Giant and Jethro Tull in here, I also hear The Sun-Ra Arkestra, and Milton Nascimento. If that mix isn’t enough to sell you on the band, I don’t know what else will. 

‘Ruinas’ is an uncharacteristically soft song reminiscent of Gentle Giant mixed with traditional folk, and just goes to show the lengths of the Brazilian’s songwriting prowess. Just as the intro riff of ‘Rito de Coroação’ repeated at the end, I couldn’t help but think I missed so much of this album. Papangu haven’t done a change for prog’s sake, but to better evolve with their key themes and sound. With two monster releases under their belt, I think that they’ve basically got the entire prog world watching their efforts. Now, with the fall of Lampião, let’s see what they’ll do next.

Recommended tracks: Acende a Luz, Oferenda no Alguidar, Maracutaia, Ruinas, Rito de Coroacao
You may also like: Subterranean Masquerade, Seven Impale
Final verdict: 8.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Instagram |

Label: Repose Records – Bandcamp | Official Website

Papangu is:
Rai Accioly – (electric guitar, lead & backing vocals)
Vitor Alves – (drums, triangle, agogo, zabumba)
Pedro Francisco – (flutes, electric & acoustic guitars, percussion, vibraphone, Fender Rhodes, Clavinet, rubber chicken, lead & backing vocals)
Marco Mayer – (bass, electric & acoustic guitars, lead & backing vocals)
Hector Ruslan – (electric & acoustic guitars, lead & backing vocals)
Rodolfo Salgueiro – (Fender Rhodes, Wurlitzer, Mellotron, piano, organ, synths, triangle, lead & backing vocals)

Album art by: Eduardo Ver

The post Review: Papangu – Lampião Rei appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Post Rock, Progressive Rock, Trip Hop, Experimental, Avant-pop, Electronica (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Steven Wilson’s art rock/trip-hop/electronica focused albums, Massive Attack, Bjork, Portishead, Anna von Hausswolff 
Review by: Christopher
Country: Germany
Release date: 30 October, 2023

We try to keep our readers on their toes. It can’t all be masturbatory Nospūn noodling solo spam and The World is Quiet Here style Frankensteinian riffs stitched together to create an affront to god. You can’t keep listening to the same six bands, we have to push you out of your comfort zones and make you listen to something that’s, y’know, different. 

To that effect: Ophelia Sullivan is a composer, producer and musician based in Germany and Disposable Identity is their debut solo album, although they’ve previously produced electronica and experimental music under the monikers Ecstasphere and Aphexia, as well as composition for film and theater (and, interestingly for the purposes of a prog metal site, Sullivan has also provided live guest vocals for fellow Germans Soulsplitter who I reviewed last year—we’ve come full circle!) With this new solo project, Sullivan has hired a busload of guest musicians, including a string quartet and a small orchestra, to fulfill their musical vision.

Sullivan’s sense of arrangement recalls Steven Wilson on albums like Insurgentes and this year’s The Harmony Codex: neoclassical strings and piano often provide a driving force with occasion coups from heavier guitar riffs, while the percussion ranges from trip hop to rockier climes, and Sullivan’s vocals provide the melodic throughline. Opener “Hourglass” sets the tone, Sullivan’s vulnerable yet defiant vocals with a deftly dynamic softness, an eerie chiming microtonal motif, thick metal riffs and a rather nifty guitar solo, doomy percussion, and ending with lone layered vocal harmonies and mournful neoclassical strings—a progressive flow through a variety of soundscapes that feel united in purpose.

There are so many cool compositional ideas here: “Rest Your Trigger on My Finger” wields menacing neoclassical strings over intricate beats, all held together by Sullivan’s haunted melodies. “Blue” eerie guitar motif fades out gracefully… until a hard drum and bass groove powers the song back up, Sullivan’s glitching in the melee—and yet that guitar motif remains in the background, anchoring this more manic segue to the track’s overall disturbed vibe. Meanwhile the combination of The Cure-esque reverb-laden clean guitar and Massive Attack style strings over a trip hop beat on “The Game” make for a languid, immersively psychedelic vibe, teetering constantly upon the verge of an emotional precipice.

Sullivan characterises Disposable Identity as focused on biographical themes of mental health, otherness, sexuality and queerness, and while there’s a metaphorical opacity to the lyrics, one can nevertheless detect how those deeply personal themes are being evoked. There’s a sense of turmoil, of fracturing, of yearning. When Sullivan lets out a cry of “I’m just as formless as you, you won’t remember my voice, disposable identity” you feel something; an inarticulable thing buried deep inside, but it taps into something real. There’s a rich authenticity here, the feeling that not only is the music beautifully composed but that the lyrics come from somewhere profoundly relatable and sincere.

Sullivan plays with time signatures and polyrhythms: most of “Blue” alternates between a bar of 4/4 followed by a 5/4, that extra bar conferring nail biting tension, and most of “The Key” is in 7/4 and I think the bridge might be a bar of 4/4 followed by 6/4… how should I know, I’m a music reviewer, not a musician. At any rate, the prog credentials are certainly here both in complexity and genre-blending, and metal rears its head at times, too, as in the syncopated, almost djent-like riff that closes “The Key” or the riff redolent of In Absentia-era Porcupine Tree that bifurcates “Core.” Add to the mix those haunting strings and Daniel Gräupner’s vital piano work and the result is a rather potent chemical brew. 

Disposable Identity is a deeply promising debut, beautifully produced and composed, and with an astonishingly expansive and dynamic sound. Ophelia Sullivan’s experience with other musical ventures clearly laid solid foundations, and here they show themselves to be a consummate artist in absolute control of their vision, weaving a tapestry of influences into an effortlessly brilliant release.

Recommended tracks: Hourglass, Rest Your Trigger on My Finger, Blue
You may also like: Meer, Evan Carson, Oak, Lack the Low
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: Independent

Ophelia Sullivan is:
– Ophelia Sullivan (vocals, programming, composer, producer, mixer)

The post Review: Ophelia Sullivan – Disposable Identity appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Avant-Garde, Prog Metal, Experimental
Recommended for Fans of: Sleepytime Gorilla Museum, Native Construct, Subterranean Masquerade, The Dear Hunter, Pain of Salvation, Igorrr
Review by: Ryan
Country: Israel
Release date: September 1, 2013

Shame on you. Shame on all of you. How this incredible piece of music has flown under the radar for ten years is irreconcilably ridiculous. What should be the gold standard of experimental progressive music has instead found itself as a footnote. Even worse, OMB has never released a follow-up to their debut album, SwineSong. Imagine a world where this band had found its audience and subsequently influenced our modern prog scene. Maybe the world we live in would be a greater place for us all, but instead, we have only fifty minutes of their collective genius and may never see anything on par with it again.

Israeli collective OMB  (Of Marble’s Black) unleashed their only album SwineSong in September of 2013, and a decade later, SwineSong is still one of my absolute favorite pieces of music. Over the years I’ve watched their Spotify monthly listeners fluctuate from one monthly listener (me) to currently fifty-one, which may be the highest I’ve ever seen it. People throw around phrases like “ahead of its time” constantly, but I don’t know how else to describe SwineSong. OMB set a precedent with this album that I’ve yet to see surpassed or even matched when it comes to avant-garde prog metal. You may recognize the vocals of Davidavi Dolev from his more recent work with Reign of the Architect, Seventh Station, Gunned Down Horses, and Subterranean Masquerade. Despite being a fan of all of the aforementioned acts, I’ve yet to have the same itch scratched achieved here on SwineSong with its passion for over-the-top experimentation.

Genre-bending tends to be a tricky mistress, but OMB has created an incredibly fluid piece of music here that flows seamlessly through muddy waters. To quote Chris Parnell in Walk Hard, “It’s like some kinda concerto,” and SwineSong is better for it. OMB takes the listener on an unrelenting and surreal journey through a beautiful demented world—structure, be damned! OMB rarely repeats themselves, instead opting to keep moving forward with their abstract art. 

Genre barriers are brutally ripped apart limb by limb throughout SwineSong. With a firm avant-garde and progressive metal basis, OMB incorporates elements of musical theater, flamenco, black metal, virtuoso, jazz, bossa nova, traditional percussion, psychedelia, thrash, djent, post-rock, and on and on—they’re all here wrapped In a firm but comfy prog metal blanket. On first listen, it may seem disjointed and random, but given time, the music becomes incredibly clear just how impeccably planned this record actually is. Every moment serves its purpose and flows directly into the next section. Even when the changes sound sudden, every piece Tetris-es its way into an obscure myriad of moving pieces. From horns to violins to sitar, OMB continuously challenges the listener to keep up with them as they travel through a strange auditory universe. If ever an acid-induced fever dream was put to music this is it; SwineSong is simultaneously a terrifying bad trip and the most enlightening beautiful journey ever recorded. 

I find it extremely difficult to do justice to SwineSong with mere words. It is beyond a simple music review and can only be absorbed properly as an auditory experience. There has never been anything like this record and the genius herein may never be seen again. It may be humanity’s greatest shame that SwineSong never managed to find its audience and instead was birthed into obscurity and ten years later still orbits that same ghostly veil. 

SwineSong is a piece of high art. Its heartbreaking finale “The Cricket’s Broken Violin” ends with the lyric “Through all my life, through all my times, I try to write my next creation.” Yet, this ending vocalism was the nail in the OMB coffin. If only we could pry open that casket and find good old Stan S. Stanman inside offering to sell us a brand new OMB record. I, for one, would solve a litany of obscure and punny puzzles to finally unearth that treasure.

Recommended Tracks: These Walls…, An Ordinary Caveman Sings Ode to Obsession, Someday My Prince Will Come, The Cricket’s Broken Violin

You May Also Like: Vulture Industries, Schizoid Lloyd, Gunned Down Horses

Related Links: Bandcamp | Spotify | YouTube | Facebook
Label: Ward7 Group

OMB is:
Davidavi Dolev – Vocals
Yuval Kramer – Guitars
Or Rozenfeld – Bass, Contrabass
Yuval Tamir – Drums, Percussion

The post Lost in Time: OMB – SwineSong appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Experimental Black Metal, Free Jazz, “World” Music (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Blut Aus Nord, Neptunian Maximalism
Review by: Cooper
Country: Japan
Release date: 4 August, 2023

Oftentimes, when one is tasked with describing their own music, promises are made that are rarely kept. Every day, I read Bandcamp album descriptions promising me nirvana if I were to just listen to these few songs, yet I still suffer in this mortal world. So when an album refers to itself as “an enigmatic and playfully formulaic quandary of deconstructed, visionary counter-music reminding us a simple concept: that reality is dictated by perception” and “an exploration of the notions of self-reflection, intuition, phobia, luck, and failure in the context of the evil eye, its historical, cultural, physical and metaphysical meanings, as well as its psychological effects, carefully unraveled and revealed,” it’s fair to understand why I may be a bit skeptical; after all, those sound more like the abstract for someone’s thesis than it does an album description. And yet, despite how doubtful I may have been of the promises made by the album’s description, here I sit, wonderstruck, by the magnitude of what was achieved on Skopofoboexoskelett, the fourth EP from 夢遊病者 (pronounced “Mèngyóu bìng zhě” and Chinese for sleepwalker).

Within the first moments of opening track “Mirrors Turned Inward”, 夢遊病者 makes it abundantly clear what sort of audio experience you’ve gotten yourself into. After a brief industrial soundscape, you are submerged into the dark and murky waters of amorphous free jazz-esque guitar and drum work, only able to come up for air on the rare occasion that the instruments lock into a perceptible rhythm, orienting you beneath the dark surface. But even when the song forms into rhythmic normality, its harmonic content is still jarring enough to always leave you uneasy; you may now be treading water, but something still lurks beneath the surface. Slowly though, “Mirrors Turned Inward” moves closer to the realm of what most may refer to as music, jagged guitar motifs blooming open and saxophone entering to bring the song to its more melodically driven conclusion. After just the first song, Skopofoboexoskelett’s goal of unraveling the nature of music itself is coming to fruition with its deeply opposing elements that only work when in conjunction. Like a chef slaughtering a cow in front of his guests before feeding them a burger, it is as though the EP is capturing the essence of anti-music in its entirety by not only showing us music’s deconstruction, but by then showing us how intensely beautiful music can simply be.

“Silesian Fur Coat”, track two, begins with the incredibly addictive musical texture that is the combination of swampy slide guitar, dark, pounding, broody bass, and reverb laden “world” instruments such as the ney, the qanun, and the nyckelharpa – instruments I have never once heard before – and then, using that initial texture as clay, sculpts the rest of the song, slowly adding in layers of strings and inevitably cutting away all unnecessary elements until the song reaches its glorious melodic climax, a climax able to ring so purely only juxtaposed against the squall that preceded it. The next track, “The Eagle Flies”, despite being the shortest song on Skopofoboexoskelett at just 3 minutes, delivers a musical journey of untold length; the use of didgeridoo, worldly percussion, and sleigh bells especially gave the song an exotic and airy texture, a reprieve from the darker tones present elsewhere.

When closing track, “The Bad Luck That Saved You From Worse Luck” finally begins, its more predictable patterns may be surprising after the chaos that came prior, but do not be mistaken; something evil dwells here, too. For after a tasteful guitar solo with an even tastier cello accompaniment, the song turns on its heels as blisteringly distorted guitars and vocals enter to seemingly destroy the song’s established groove only for everything to shift once again, lurching forward into a much quicker pace. It really is stellar songwriting. From here, the tension and chaos build up to the point of no return only to give way to a climax of strings and guitar that will almost certainly go down as the most beautiful musical moment I’ll hear all year.

With Skopofoboexoskelett, 夢遊病者 have left me craving more. The music on display here is powerful and the more I listen and the more I ponder, the more meaningful it seems to become, as though its memory is more poignant than its presence. The fact that I am now pondering the nature of music itself means that this album has more than achieved its desired effect on me and that I will surely return to this for years to come. In 25 minutes, 夢遊病者 have revealed to me more about than the nature of music than countless hours of listening prior, and although I may not be able to articulate it, as though it were something deep and instinctual, I feel its importance. If you have your doubts, open your mind and see for yourself.

Recommended tracks: Listen to it all! It’s only 25 minutes!
You may also like: Salqiu, Imperial Triumphant, A.M.E.N.
Final verdict: 10/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | YouTube

Label: Sentient Ruin Laboratories – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

夢遊病者 is:
– PBV (fretted and fretless acoustic and electric guitars, vocals, dulcimer, harmonica, effects, field recording)
– NN (fretted and fretless basses, xylophone, prepared piano, vocals)
– KJM (drums, percussion, objects, polivoks, vocals)

Guests include:
– EB (saxophone)
– IK (ney)
– SH (qanun)
– WY (didgeridoo)
– DSV (nyckelharpa)
– EJ (harmonium, harp)
– SA (cello)
– AN (bassoon)
– DTM (vocals)
– The Plovdiv PVVP Choir (vocals)
– DW (spoken word)
– H/TS (spoken word)
– KK (translation to Polish)
– BB (German translation consult)
– DA (vocals)
– RR (vocals)
– MA (vocals)
– RA (vocals)

The post Review: 夢遊病者 – Skopofoboexoskelett appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Avant Garde Black Metal, Jazz, Heavy Metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Sigh, Albert Ayler, John Coltrane
Review by: Cooper
Country: Italy
Release date: 16 June, 2023

For too long the clarinet has lain dormant in the progressive music scene, overshadowed by its woodwind brethren in saxophone and flute, and for too long have saxophone and flute reigned supreme, content to ride the coattails of the already encumbered King Crimson and Jethro Tull as far as they will go. The time is nigh for clarinet to ascend to the throne of woodwinds in progressive music and put its lethargic predecessors to rest. At least that’s what The Book of Lies – Liber I, the first entry in a planned series of releases, by A.M.E.N. would have you believe with how unabashedly it employs the underutilized reed instrument.

Going into this album, one should expect to hear just as much, if not more, passages featuring clarinet than they’ll hear featuring either guitar or vocals, and much like the other projects (Dawn of a Dark Age, Incantvm, Notturno) of Vittorio Sabelli, the man behind all instruments on this album, Liber I is musically grounded in a rather small area. This means Sabelli, despite the relatively meager 37 minute run time, is able to fully explore the intersection of jazz clarinet, avant-garde black metal, and heavy metal that occurs on Liber I. A delicate balance is struck where each section seems to resolve just as it was beginning to feel boring or monotonous and each section that follows is just fresh enough to re-engage my interest.

As it turns out though, consistently piquing my interest is not enough for me to truly love an album, no matter how intriguing its ideas. In the latter half of the album especially, where the average song length dips below the 2-minute mark, I found my enjoyment waning; it felt as though I was listening to several metal/clarinet proof-of-concepts more than any sort of fully realized songs which is truly a shame because the clarinet does work, incredibly well in fact! Its inherently dynamic and subtle nature juxtaposes the harsh guitars and vocals, and its jazzy melodies brought a sophisticated nature to the music that fans of the avant-garde will certainly love. Despite this though, I still can’t help but feel like A.M.E.N. played it safe on Liber I (I know it sounds crazy calling a revolutionary, avant-garde black metal album “safe”, but I do have my reasons).

For one, once the initial shock factor of hearing clarinet in this context has worn off, there is never another moment where I found myself surprised by this album. Don’t get me wrong; Sabelli is clearly a virtuosic player with damn impressive chops, but I can only hear dissonant staccato attacks and slinky solos so many times before I start to get a little tired, especially when they come at a pace as rapid as the second half of this album. I find myself wishing that Sabelli had dug into the harsher side of the clarinet, embracing the shrill squeaks and squeals the instrument can produce ala Albert Ayler, but Liber I sees Sabelli favoring a sleeker approach – aided by its crystalline production – that would work for a pop hit but leaves this avant-garde black metal ultimately feeling dry and, as I have already said safe. I will say that the production is perfect for the soundscape tracks featuring guest vocalist Erba del Diavolo.

Ultimately though, these complaints are minor in the face of what A.M.E.N. accomplished on The Book of Lies – Liber I, and I am incredibly excited to see what Sabelli and gang are able to cook up in A.M.E.N.’s next installment, provided they push the envelope even more.

Recommended tracks: The Sabbath of the Goat, Dinosaur, Windlestraws, Pilgrim-Talk
You may also like: Salqiu, Dawn of a Dark Age, Incantvm, Demoniac
Final verdict: 7/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | YouTube | Facebook

Label: I, Voidhanger – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

A.M.E.N. is:
– Vittorio Sabelli (all instruments)
– Matteo Vitelli (vocals)
– Erba del Diavolo (Vocals on “The Sabbath of the Goat” and “Waratah-Blossoms”)

The post Review: A.M.E.N. – The Book of Lies – Liber I appeared first on The Progressive Subway.