Style: Post-metal, progressive metal, djent (instrumental)
Recommended for fans of: Cloudkicker, Scale the Summit, Pelican
Country: Utah, United States
Release date: 20 April 2025

A question for my fellow instrumental music lovers out there: how infuriating is it when someone dismisses a track just because it doesn’t have vocals? You know the type. “I need lyrics to connect to a song,” or “How am I supposed to know what it’s about with no singer?” My personal favorite: “It’s not a song without vocals.” Depending on which expert you ask, they might be technically correct¹—but let’s be honest, we’re talking about the unwashed masses here, and what they’re really saying is “I don’t know how to engage with music unless someone spells it out for me.” Don’t you just want to smack them upside the head with something that really connects with you? The emotive melodies of Cloudkicker are that for me. Whack. How can you not feel this?

I came across Saranhedra thanks to my fellow reviewer Doug, who described it as “a fusion of post-metal with more melodic/traditional instrumental metal.” That alone piqued my interest, but then I noticed that Carian—the one-man project of Randy Cordner—is based out of Provo, Utah, where I went to college. Provo isn’t exactly a hotbed for my kind of music, so I was really rooting for this to be good. When I hit play and “Sunstone” began, I thought I was in for a bit of a slog. The slow, repetitive guitar line and eerie atmosphere—combined with the monolithic cover art—felt like it was setting up a vaguely doom metal funeral dirge. But then “Katalepsis” kicked in, and suddenly I was back in my college apartment, listening to Cloudkicker’s The Map Is Not the Territory for the first time. Saranhedra has a similar layered, melodic djent sound with punchy rhythm and emotional lift—except this time, it’s new. And it’s coming from Provo? Fucking Fetching wild. But is similarity to one of my favorite artists enough to come back time and again?

The heart of Saranhedra lies in its rhythmically engaging, melodious progressions. It belongs to that rare class of instrumental music where repetition isn’t a crutch—it’s a transformation. You might still be humming along to a similar motif by the end of a piece, but the aural landscape around it has been altered to varying degrees depending on the track, thus you’re rarely finishing in the same place that you started. Providing a heft of color to the soundscape is the lead guitar: soaring phrases (“Crissaegrim,” “Saranhedra”), happy tappy cadences (“Legion,” “Magog”), and even a bit of shred here and there (“Orphanim and a Flaming Sword”) all add a Scale the Summit vibe to this LP.

Unlike a lot of djent that gets stuck in a loop of polyrhythmic chugging and ambient filler, Carian writes songs. You feel each track is going somewhere and that the songs aren’t just texture and tone, but full-on compositions. Instrumental metal has a volume problem—not just in decibels, but in saturation. There’s so much of it, made with relative ease in a home office or basement, that standout work is increasingly difficult to find. Last month, I browsed the djent bazaar and picked up a random LP. Total dud. This time, I got lucky. Saranhedra isn’t reinventing anything, to be clear, but it brings melody, momentum, and a spirit that connects with me to a style that often forgets those things.

Speaking of volume problems, let’s talk about the drums on this release—I can’t fucking fetching hear them half the time. There are so many layers of beautiful guitar melodies that absolutely bury everything else, and the drums are what suffer most because of that. Which cymbal is being smacked right now? I repeatedly ask myself. It’s complete guesswork to my relatively fine-tuned ear for those things. While simultaneously, some lively, complex, and energetic fills are completely wasted under the guitar deluge. It’s frustrating because the percussive elements themselves feel like they have something to say, but the mix refuses to let them speak. This flaw doesn’t ruin the album, but spending more time getting the mix just right could have elevated Saranhedra from good to great.

Mixing and production issues aside, the heavy Cloudkicker influence on Saranhedra is a bit of a double-edged sword. On one hand, I can’t get enough of it. On the other, I can’t dole out high marks for moving the genre forward. But all the same, I can’t recommend this album enough, and if you’re an instru-metal fan, you owe it to yourself to give the stirring melodies of Saranhedra a shot, because—as you are well aware—a lack of vocals does not mean a lack of voice.

Recommended tracks: Crissaegrim, Orphanim and a Flaming Sword, Sardis, Magog
You may also like: The Arbitrary, Scaphoid, Hecla
Final verdict: 6.5/10

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

Label: Independent release

Carian is:
– Randy Cordner (everything)

1. Which, as we all know, is the best kind of correct. ︎

The post Review: Carian – Saranhedra appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Label: Northern Silence Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook

Gallowbraid is:
– Jake Rogers (everything)

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

Album art by Dan Schaub

Style: Mixed Vocals (mostly clean)
Recommended for fans of: Dance Gavin Dance, Royal Coda, Maroon 5, Coheed and Cambria
Country: Utah, United States
Release date: 17 January 2025

Your friend is a prodigy at Harvard University: He has a perfect GPA, is the leader of the school debate team, and is one of the most productive research assistants at the institution. With a lightning quick mind that quickly answers every question the professor asks, your friend has a destiny to accomplish something great in the world.

He’s not without his weaknesses though: You take him to a frat party on a dare, and things don’t go smoothly. At some point, humorous discussions about football are met with stilted silence from him. At another point, he got the idea that pickup lines were cool, and completely made an ass of himself to some poor woman. A deeply one-sided conversation about the theoretical limits of quantum physics happened, which was met with people distracting themselves with memes on their phones. Eventually, he just leaves the party, and you kind of regret bringing him in the first place. This unfortunate analogy describes Mend, and Eidola’s journey to it.

A worthy contemporary to the likes of Dance Gavin Dance, Royal Coda, and Hail the Sun, Andrew Wells and his crew are a serious force in the Swancore scene, which is a particular strain of progressive post-hardcore. Their progressive qualities are exemplified by songs like “Contra: Second Temple” off of Degeneraterra, or “Caustic Prayer” off of The Architect, which are brimming with lush colors, busy and dense riffing, Andrew Well’s anthemic and lyrical voice, and songwriting that defies convention by strongly deviating from chorus driven structures. With an incredibly strong series of albums starting at their sophomore release, Eidola have proven themselves as a talented and consistent band with a definitive sound, and are now setting out to try something new.

Mend is a part of a duology which seeks to explore territory beyond the band’s definitive progressive trademarks. The first album in the duo, Eviscerate, incorporated aggressive metalcore influences in order to better describe the darker side of human nature. Mend, on the other hand, is an exploration of the light side of human nature, drawing from both rock sensibilities and straight-up pop music. Given that their sound is already quite bright, this is the only way they could push their sound forward towards something even more luminous.

All the components of a good album are here: vocal harmonies, sensual melodic lines, a stronger push towards a verse-chorus-verse structure, a variegated sonic palette, and a sprinkling of harsh vocals. Mend’s potential is exemplified in both “The Faustian Spirit” and “Godhead: Final Temple”. The former starts with a few sensual guitar lines, before moving into a build that is brimming with ideas: beginning low key and slightly stationary, and gaining intensity with Andrew’s cries and an almost total sense of evolution. Then the chorus hits, and it could rock a stadium with the resolution of the tension built before. “The Faustian Spirit” then demonstrates its sophistication by not merely reiterating the verses, but approaching each repetition of the chorus with totally different ideas while still remaining coherent.

Unfortunately, these two songs are flukes; the songwriting for the vast majority of the tracks struggles with middling attempts at choruses, incompleteness, questionable endings, and the occasional embarrassment. “Empire of Light” is seriously marred by Andrew’s Adam Levin aping: Singing ‘I don’t give a fuck’ repeatedly doesn’t come off as sexy as he thinks it does. “Blood in the Water” labors through an awkwardness; the initial transition to the chorus feels like a complete after-thought, and while the chorus itself has a marvelous quality, each subsequent verse and reintroduction feels poorly thought out and confused. “Prodigy”’s entire problem is that its chorus has the intensity of something that should have been a verse leading to somewhere greater.

This was an experiment for Eidola: A delving into something more conventional while not selling out completely. The result ranges from listenable to totally confused, with a tiny sprinkling of greatness. If the band were to return to this kind of sound in the future, there would need to be a serious effort to know the line where pop goes from cool to cringe, a bigger emphasis on build ups and coherency, and a commitment to choruses that stand out in intensity.

Recommended tracks: The Faustian Spirit, Godhead: Final Temple
You may also like: Makari, Meliorist, Senna, Galleons
Final verdict: 5.5/10

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

Label: Blue Swan – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

band in question is:
– Andrew Michael Wells (vocals, guitar)
– Sergio Medina (bass, guitar)
– Matthew Hansen (drums)
– Stephan Hawkes (producer)

The post Review: Eidola – Mend appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive Rock, Trad Prog, Neo-Prog, AOR (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Dream Theater, Threshold, Porcupine Tree, Arena, Spock’s Beard
Review by: Christopher
Country: Utah, USA
Release date: 6 October, 2023

A Cell to Call Home, a concept album about “love, dependency and loss” told via a character overcoming addiction, is the third album from Utah outfit Advent Horizon, whose sound sits dead between that of Dream Theater and Porcupine Tree; fun riffs, catchy vocal hooks, synth and guitar solos out the wazoo, and yet a more contemplative, melancholic prog rock sensibility underneath it all. To top it all off, they’ve got Jens Bogren producing—if you go through my favourite albums, the number that Bogren has mixed his magic on is staggering. We’re off to a good start. 

“Water” opens complex vocal harmonies, prominent bass and judicious piano work, all reminiscent of The Mountain-era Haken, and they even throw a blast beat under a section of this melodic track for good measure. Meanwhile, the lively solo section on “How Did It Get So Good?” sees dueling guitar and synth solos play over a disorienting, cycling riff. Followed up by tracks like “Your Flaws”, which features countryish chords and a lovely guest vocal performance from Kristen McDonald, and “Truth”, which sees McDonald stays on for a more powerful performance over a pretty massive riff, A Cell to Call Home seems a promising and versatile album.

And then things turn a bit… dad prog? With each new track Advent Horizon soften, the harder trad prog edges being worn away by neo-prog sentimentality. Now, that’s no bad thing, I like a good injection of neo-prog, but Advent Horizon’s take on this is particularly saccharine: generic verse and chorus melodies and rather cliched lyrics enlivened here and there by some pretty staggering instrumental passages.

As Advent Horizon mine this vein for more, it yields less. “Rain On Open Water” comes off sounding like a second-rate Journey track, and “Calling It Off” is rather uninspired until Jordan Rudess—who seemingly goes around high on espresso kicking in the doors of recording studios to force keyboard solos on unsuspecting underground prog rock groups—comes along to provide a characteristically insane synth solo over a far more dynamic bridge section. These tracks, and others, like “Maybe”, “Control”, and “Hold Me” suffer from a surfeit of uninspired writing, elevated by a sax spot here, a frenetic instrumental passage there. 

While I like Rylee McDonald’s voice which, perhaps unsurprisingly, is like a mix of LaBrie and Wilson, he sticks to pop melodies that are far too safe; by the back half of the record none of the hooks are sticking—as often as a cool riff or solo would pull me in, a cheesy lyric or saccharine melody would push me out again. I found the songs evoking the most terribly trite music videos in my mind’s eye, of people in convertibles coming to terms with things against a backdrop of flags, gas stations and canyons. Perhaps a cynical Brit like myself is just a bad fit for such distinctly Mountain State mawkishness, but I preferred the earlier bite of A Cell Call to Home to its later toothlessness. 

With strong performances, crystalline production, and a buttload of sincerity, Advent Horizon have charm and talent to spare but fall into a quagmire of soft rock cliches, ultimately making A Cell to Call Home over reliant on slow, schmaltzy tracks that undermine the strength of the more gripping songs and the proficiency of the musicians. Maybe my tolerance for neo-prog only extends so far, but certainly if you enjoy the softer vibe of the genre you’ll find plenty to love here. 

Recommended tracks: How Did It Get So Good?, Truth, Water
You may also like: Mile Marker Zero, Ring of Gyges, Hyco, Southern Empire
Final verdict: 6.5/10

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

Label: Independent

Advent Horizon is:
– Rylee McDonald (vocals, guitars, keys)
– Mike Lofgreen (drums, percussion)
– Cason Wood (bass, keys, trombone)
– Grant Matheson (guitar, keys, vocals)

The post Review: Advent Horizon – A Cell to Call Home appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Post-mathcore (instrumental)
Review by: Callum
Country: US-UT
Release date: April 23, 2021

I tend to agree with Blackshape’s self-assessment of their own sound. “Heavy, beautiful math” pretty much hits the nail on the head. Their debut is a predominantly instrumental, dynamic rollercoaster of lighter shoegaze and heavy, intense climaxes. Beyond the initial ambient introductory track, influences of other instrumental acts that like to use time signatures to mess with your head like Cloudkicker and Russian Circles are immediately apparent, the former influence shows in the way guitar riffs in tracks like “III” increase in complexity and intensity before bursting through the proverbial clouds in an uplifting crescendo. The latter influence is felt more when those crescendos come crashing back down in dark, crushing sections as at the end of “V” or the reverb-heavy lead guitar in “VII”.

With one exception, the tracks on the album are numbered I-XI eschewing traditional nomenclature. Considering that each track flows into the next seamlessly, it stands to reason that the record is intended to be listened to uninterrupted, from start to finish. I wonder if the band missed out on a trick by not reaching number XII as the hours on a clock face would, since the album outro also loops seamlessly back into the intro to facilitate continuous listens. At the same time, I appreciate a band not throwing in a filler or mediocre placeholder track for the sake of setting up a gimmick that’s most likely been done before. Naming instrumental tracks can often be a little awkward, however numbering tracks can also make it harder to remember and revisit particular parts of the album. The exception to the rule happens to be my personal favourite track of the album. Rather than the expected X, “ITIIITIATIIHYLIHYL” is instead an acronym of the album’s only track with lyrics. Poignant, and delivered beautifully, the vocals on this track are a large part of what saves this album from being otherwise somewhat forgettable.

The rest of the album is well constructed, well mixed, and well played but there are few stand-out moments or elements that show off a huge amount of character. There is a hard hitting ‘breakdown’ section in “III”, some dizzying, sliding riffs reminiscent of Cult Leader on “VII”, but otherwise there’s a lot of good but not great here.

Recommended tracks: ITIIITIATIIHYLIHYL, III, VIII
Recommended for fans of: Russian Circles, Cloudkicker, Holy Fawn
Final verdict: 6.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Independent

Blackshape is:
– Scott Shepard (guitar)
– Joe Woit (guitar)
– Josh Dunn (bass)
– Perry Burton (drums)

The post Review: Blackshape – Blackshape appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: mathgaze (this is what they very adamantly call themselves), progressive rock (clean vocals, some post-hardcore style screaming)
Recommended for fans of: Circa Survive, Minus the Bear, The Mars Volta, HRVRD
Review by: Chris
Country: Utah, United States
Release date: 17 January 2020

[EDITOR’S NOTE: This review was originally published in the January 2020 Part 2 issue of The Progressive Subway.]

When I saw this album on our review list I suddenly remembered it had been mentioned to me by someone close to me as “exactly your shit” a month ago and life had caused me to pass it by. I’m glad to report that my friend was correct and I am now regretting that 2 month period where I was not listening to this album. Simply put this album is what happens when you drench some mathy stylings in reverb a la -gaze genres, which is apt considering the band pushes themselves as a Mathgaze band.

“Dead Wait”(song) opens the album a bit slowly and I will admit this track did not immediately grab me, as it felt like a few other post bands I had used to listen to when I was younger. The guitars reminded me of something I might find in an Appleseed Cast song and the vocalist reminded me of the vocalist from HRVRD, which I had not listened to in years and gave me a nice nostalgic feeling. However, at about the 2:25 mark “Dead Wait” caught me with the cane hook and pulled me back in with a shuffling syncopated drum beat over the previous guitar part. I really feel the drums provide a lot of what is so great about this album. There are so many moments of almost Thomas Pridgen esque drum riffing that really are what caused me to feel so much The Mars Volta vibes in this album. Without some of these drums beats I feel some parts of the album might not succeed to the degree they do since the drums are really what are providing the new perspective and voice to these parts in my mind. 

That said, the guitars and basslines in this album are great though some fall a little flat for me and I find myself falling back onto just listening to the drums and head bobbing (I’m a drummer so it’s only to be expected). I feel sometimes the guitars are slightly treading ground that Circa Survive tilled and cultivated long ago, though there is much more gaze aspect here than they typically apply. 

The vocals are pretty good overall as well, I did have a strange tip-of-my-tongue moment for a while listening to this album, until I realized it really really reminded me of Brian Aubert from Silversun Pickups. I do feel they feel a bit samey for too many stretches in the record, though if it was done for overall atmosphere and feel for the album as a body of work I would let it slide. There are a few more staccato playful choruses and lines and those are the sections where I really find myself focusing on the vocals, and anytime the vocalist gave those Anthony Green style high fry vocals I was super into it.

I really really like this album and will be visiting it a lot more for a while as a nice addition to my “things that feel like they were made to be listened to by me” list. My main critiques are song length and how some sections drag on, I didn’t personally feel all the songs needed the amount of length they had, and I would love in future endeavors to hear the guitars break more new ground in the way I feel the drums really really did for this style of music.

Recommended tracks: Casualty Officer, So Without, (Aichmåloto) Asterias
You may also like: Juggernaut, Future Corpse, The Mask of the Phantasm
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: Independent

Gloe is:
– Ian Cooper (vocals, guitars)
– Dan Actor (guitars)
– Chris Jensen (bass)
– Brian Fell (drums, programming)

The post Review: Gloe – Dead Wait appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive metal, avant-garde metal, metalcore, symphonic metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Native Construct, The Dear Hunter, Between the Buried and Me, Protest the Hero
Review by: Josh
Country: Utah, United States
Release date: 30 August, 2019

[EDITOR’S NOTE: This review was originally published in the August 2019 edition of The Progressive Subway.]

If you like Native Construct, it’s pretty much a guarantee that you’ll like this. It’s got the piano and strings, the wide range of styles, the powerful vocals, and the high concept, and utilizes all of these elements in a similar way to the aforementioned band (RIP). I’d argue that they pull off their concept better than NC. From the start, they hook the listener on the album’s plot, a rarity with concept albums. The opening track, “Synopsis,” is just that, a synopsis of the album’s storyline. The soaring vocals have the listener paying attention as they introduce characters, giving the listener grounds to follow the plot, then concluding with the line “In this tale he dies,” before diving into two and a half minutes of symphonic instrumentals. This raises tons of questions for even an inattentive listener. From there, if they dive into the concept, they’ll find it quite a rewarding tale.

As for the music itself, it’s incredibly engaging. The singer sounds like James LaBrie with the range of Tilian Pearson, which turns out to be a surprisingly good combination. He’s more engaging than LaBrie, and hits some soaring, cinematic high notes that his Dream Theater parallel never could. His harshes, though, leave something to be desired. His highs are serviceable, but his low screams come across as weak, sounding like thin deathcore lows. Overall, though, he’s a quality vocalist. The guitar work on this album is great, too, and it’s varied enough that it never gets old or feels repetitive. Guitarist David Lyon alternates between low-end djent-influenced riffs and upbeat, major-key lead lines. I’m well aware that djent doesn’t have the best reputation, but Lyon keeps it groovy while never resorting to mindless chugging. His virtuosic solos, though, are his strongest appeal. He plays incredibly fast on these without ever coming across as excessive, a common pitfall within the genre. In addition, he shows a willingness to step out of genre lines and experiment, such as with the jazz solo section on Patriarch.

Unfortunately all this excellence is muddled by the mix. The vocals never feel as full as they should be, and overall the album sounds thin. Despite this, The Forest is a great, unique album that deserves your attention.

Recommended tracks: Vanished, Torment, Through the Forest, Patriarch
You may also like: Embrace of Disharmony, Clement Belio, Edge of Reality, Others by No One
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: Independent

Chronicles is:
– Wesley Berger (vocals)
– David Lyon (guitars, programming)
– Calvan Christ (bass)

The post Review: Chronicles – The Forest appeared first on The Progressive Subway.