Style: technical death metal, progressive death metal, flamenco nuevo (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Beyond Creation, Allegaeon, Gorod, Ne Obliviscaris, Camarón de la Isla, Paco de Lucia, Nile
Country: France
Release date: 11 July 2025

The Romani gitanos in Andalusia were onto something ascendant with their flamenco music. Incorporating aspects from a plethora of musical traditions for their guitar playing and vocals—North Indian, Arabic and North African, Spanish, and Sephardic—the aggressive style of finger-picked acoustic guitars is practically synonymous with Spanish music. Flamenco is extremely distinct, too, with its own canonical melodies (heavily characterized by descending notes), modes, and rhythms, along with microtonal portamento and improvisation courtesy of the singer. Since flamenco is such a rigid system, folding metal into the mix is certainly a difficult task, although an incredibly intriguing one. Since 2010, France’s Impureza have wanted to be the face of the blend, and now on their third album, Alcázares, they continue making a strong case that they are.

Spanish guitar playing and flamenco have made their way into the technical death metal scene before with icons like First Fragment and Allegaeon, but both of them isolate the style from their core metal sound. On paper, (more on that later) Impureza bring the flamenco front and center. Largely taking their metal sound from modern fretless luminaries Beyond Creation, Impureza rely on frantically blasting drums, racing guitar lines, raspy harshes, and, of course, the voluptuous fretless bass. From there, the wild Frenchmen add on their distinct mix of conquistadorial, belted clean vocals, acoustic flamenco guitar lines, and Latin percussion. When it all comes together, the sound is glorious. Prime examples of Impureza firing on all cylinders come after the fully acoustic intro track bedecked with flourishes of Latin percussion and lush strings—such as during first song, “Bajo las Tizonas de Toledo,” which brings the Andalusian elements into the picture around the halfway point, weaving them in and out of the muscly riffs. “Castigos Eclesiástico” starts at a less furious tech pace but opens with the acoustic guitars in tandem with the death metal riffs; the closer “Santa Inquisición” has the most consistent mix of the disparate styles; and “Pestilencia” even brings some trumpet into the mix for another layer of Hispanic flair. 

“Bajo las Tizonas de Toledo” and “Reconquistar” both have a dramatic grand pause after a long tech death section, from which they turn into purely acoustic guitars with fretless bass and cleans. Impureza clearly know what they’re doing on the flamenco front, both as performers and writers, so it’s extremely frustrating that the band doesn’t integrate the acoustic guitars for the majority of the riffs. Impureza need to lean even harder into the flamenco death metal gimmick; yes, they’ve gone further with it than their peers, but they haven’t explored the style nearly as much as they could. 

Although nowhere near as satisfying as the acoustic flamenco sections, the style of playing seeps into the electric riffs, so not all is lost. Impureza’s riffs gallop in tight, marching staccatos, the melodies descending in furious bouts of Nile-esque guitar flurries; additionally, the riffs are in flamenco’s distinctive altered Phrygian mode. Most of the time when I have problems with a gimmick in progressive metal, I dislike that the artist is a “genre tourist” and don’t know the scene they’re imitating well enough to compose anything more than the basic stereotypes. But Impureza are masters of flamenco, and their problem is that they could push the envelope even further. The baroque ornamentation on their chuggy riffs and the wild chromatic solos are more proof that both the metal and flamenco influences are solid, so I just wish they’d use the acoustic more during the metal bits. 

In the eight long years since Impureza’s last album, flamenco metal really hasn’t progressed much (except for First Fragment’s 10/10 Gloire Éternelle), so I pray that Alcázares begins an invigoration for the style. Even though this record hasn’t fully lived up to Impureza’s lofty potential, the sick flamenco parts and killer riffs should keep me satisfied until the next release of the rare fusion.

Recommended tracks: Covadonga, Castigos Eclesiásticos, Santa Inquisición
You may also like: First Fragment, Equipoise, Augury, Kalaveraztekah, Triana, Curanderos, Ash of Necrossus, Ade
Final Verdict: 7.5/10

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

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

Impureza is:
– Esteban Martín – All Vocals
– Lionel Cano Muñoz – Rhythm, Lead & Spanish Guitars
– Florian Saillard – Fretless Bass
– Guilhem Auge – Drums
With guests:
– Xavier Hamon – Percussion
– Louis Viallet – Orchestration

The post Review: Impureza – Alcázares appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Technical death metal, brutal death metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Suffocation, Dying Fetus, Gorguts, Nile, Immolation
Country: Canada
Release date: 20 June 2025

Of all the technical death metal OGs, Cryptopsy remain at the top of my favorites list. Blasphemy Made Flesh and None So Vile—hell, I’ll even add Whisper Supremacy to this list—are ‘90s death metal essentials with one overarching ethos: uncompromising technicality fused with unyielding brutality. After those releases, however, things get… controversial. By the mid ‘00s the group began to introduce other genre flavors into their sound—Once Was Not’s brash guitar work and syncopation left a distinct mathcore aftertaste, and The Unspoken King’s embrace of melody and breakdowns gave a deathcore-tinged aroma. Fans lost it. Cries of “sellout!” echoed across various and sundry forums and comment sections.² Amid the backlash came several changes in the lineup—which the band was never immune to—but in 2012, they stabilized. Their self-titled album that year, with just one founding member left, was widely regarded (somewhat ironically) as a return to form. And since then? They’ve clung to that sound like a lifeline.

An Insatiable Violence continues to hang on for dear life. Or at least it wants you to do so. This is a continuation of Cryptopsy’s post-2012 era sound: intensely technical rhythms, breakneck tempo changes, and Flo Mounier’s hyper-complex drumming are all here. Right out of the gate, vocalist Matt McGachy lets loose his signature howl (which will never get old) and we’re off, tumbling through a hellscape of rhythmic contortions, dissonant melodies, and blast-beaten obliteration. For better or worse, the intensity rarely lets up. Across its eight tracks, Violence stays pedal-to-the-fucking-death-metal: all gas, no brakes, nor breaks. It’s Cryptopsy, after all.

Still, on every track Cryptopsy provides a moment of clarity when the band lets a groovy bridge or tempo change shine by taking a swinging, half-time riff and using it to transition between two scorching sections. “Dead Eyes Replete” and “Embrace the Nihility” are probably my favorites in this regard. Other tracks, like “Until There’s Nothing Left” and “The Nimis Adoration,” have moments where they bring Olivier Pinard’s bass forward in the mix to showcase a sickly melody, letting the bass come up for air to do more than just keep the songs heavy on the low end. I wish Cryptopsy leaned into that consistently, because it works. These reprieves don’t mean I’m trying to make a case for less brutality. On the contrary, a showstopper on this LP is the blistering vocal work. I’ve always been a fan of McGachy’s voice (and his flowing locks), and he delivers another fantastic performance on Violence. “Fools Last Acclaim” showcases McGachy’s inhuman prowess, letting his vocals run the gamut from demonically low gutturals to wraith-like raspy high shrieks. Likewise, the ferocious drumming on this LP is top tier. Flo is a bit of an icon in the genre, and his combination of brute intensity and flawless precision is present in all thirty-four minutes of the album’s runtime.

But, despite the clear technical brilliance that An Insatiable Violence puts on display, the lack of variety might be the biggest criticism here. And that sucks to say, because as mentioned earlier, fans revolted when Cryptopsy even peeked outside of their wheelhouse. I don’t mean to say that the songs blend together—nobody is going to confuse Christian Donaldson’s groaning riffs in “Malicious Needs” with his fiery assault in “The Art of Emptiness”—but rather that few, if any, moments step outside the tightly constructed box the band has kept to in this era. That’s the price of consistency, I suppose. No filler, but few surprises. The production on the album is also tight and clear—perhaps to a fault. Every note is crisp; every kick of the bass drum surgically accurate. The polish really helps showcase Cryptopsy’s technical prowess, but it also scrubs away that filthy feeling that helped form the appeal of those early albums. It’s a fair trade-off, and one that fits their current mode well, even though it risks coming off as clinical.

A certain paradox exists with being an establishing act in extreme metal. When you break new ground early on, many metal fans expect you to stay rooted in the foundation you laid, resisting changes in design or renovations over the years. Cryptopsy have weathered the backlash that often comes with defying those expectations, enduring lineup shifts and stylistic detours along the way. But they’ve emerged with a sound that feels both true to their roots and sustainable in the long term. For longtime fans, that might be enough. For those looking for more innovation in tech-death, An Insatiable Violence will seem a bit rote. As for me, I’ll keep coming back to it—because I love this band, and because even when they’re not reinventing the wheel, they’re burning rubber like few can.

Recommended tracks: Malicious Needs, Fools Last Acclaim, The Nimis Adoration, Embrace the Nihility
You may also like: Malignancy, Brodequin, Serocs, Hideous Divinity
Final verdict: 7/10

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

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

Cryptopsy is:
– Christian Donaldson (guitar)
– Matt McGachy (vocals)
– Flo Mounier (drums)
– Olivier Pinard (bass)

1. Ex-vocalist of Cryptopsy from 2001-2003, who passed away in 2024 ︎
2. Which is just silly. Moving from one extreme metal genre to a variation on another extreme metal genre isn’t “selling out” by any stretch of the imagination, folks. ︎

The post Review: Cryptopsy – An Insatiable Violence appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Art by Aaron Pinto

Style: Progressive death metal, technical death metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Alkaloid, Obscura, Devin Townsend, Morbid Angel, Yes
Country: Germany
Release date: 25 April, 2025

When Yes released Tales From Topographic Oceans in 1973, it proved that progressive rock could progress no further. With an even more difficult recording process than Close to the Edge, Tales saw Yes try to make lightning strike twice, and became tangled within Anderson and Howe’s grand vision of an entire album full of epics. Problem was, everyone could only hear a four-minute Hammond organ solo so many times before it got stale. The genre had been swallowed up by its own ambition, ever gluttonous to add more runtime and weird instruments to their songs. Once the kings of prog rock fell, it wasn’t long before everyone got with the times and became more accessible, or died off. Tales is ambitious to say the least, and ambition can be a double-edged sword. Without proper balancing, or some central idea to keep things grounded, concepts can very easily spiral out of control. 

Tom “Fountainhead” Geldschläger is responsible for Obscura’s most ambitious effort. The fifteen-minute ‘Weltseele’ sees the band at by far their most experimental, adding in Eastern influences and a string quintet, closing out the album Akroasis in classic prog style. Now, he makes his triumphant return to the scene almost ten years later with Changeling. The band’s self-titled debut promises all the shredding solos, double-stopped riffs, and batshit insane virtuosity Fountainhead is known for. Realistically, I knew a musician as prolific as he would have no trouble navigating such a massive project (just look at the Bandcamp credits!), but part of me did wonder about an hour-long tech-death album becoming cursed by its own sprawl and ambition. What I didn’t know was that Fountainhead had a secret weapon up his sleeve, one I never thought the fretless guitar shredder would be so keen to exercise on his path to success: restraint.

Allow me to detour for just a moment to let you in on a little secret. Archspire, the band known for writing songs at 400 BPM, exercise excessive restraint. Rhythmically, they write simple riffs and play them inhumanly fast eighty percent of the time, which then allows them to blast off and legato-tap all around the fretboard when the need arises, making it all the more impactful. Conceptually similar, Changeling employs another kind of restraint: letting sections repeat, progress, and evolve patiently, until a track feels epic and monumental. Complexity comes through evolution rather than the incessant sweep-picking and shredding one might expect from such a strong tech-death cast. 

Like an ever-changing alien species, Changeling’s song structure always begins at a larval phase. The simple, four-note guitar riff that starts ‘Instant Results’ is brought back as screams from a woman’s choir during the song’s climactic drop. One highlight of my many listens, ‘World? What World?’ is almost entirely based around the acoustic riff that starts it off. It evolves throughout the song’s runtime, bridging distorted guitars and becoming part of the undergird horn section right before each chorus. Similarly, the masterful, pant-shittingly heavy chorus of ‘Abyss’ follows much of the same structure, adding a higher harmony the second time around, and letting vocalist Morean produce the lowest note of his career on the last. It’s the subtle changes in repeating motifs and ideas that set Changeling apart from its peers. Not only is it great to catch a repeated line upon first listen, but subsequent listens reveal those larval forms each song has grown from. Even ‘Anathema’, in all its seventeen-minute glory, is composed of a mere few sections that are repurposed throughout. As Morean’s shouts of “Forever!” close the track with an increasingly heavy breakdown, I can’t believe the song is as long as it is. The track never plods in one place, and like everything else on the album, it finds a way to make reprisals work and flow without sounding like Fountainhead was running out of ideas.

Despite the massive amount of guest credits on this album, I’d be hard pressed to call it “symphonic”. The orchestral elements are ever-present, but provide more of a textural padding until the last two songs. Instead of being shoved in my face à la Wilderun, they’re low-key and usually underneath the many layers each song holds. This showing of restraint makes the moments the orchestral elements appear all the more special, like when ‘Abdication’ begins more like a Joe Hisashi piece than it does a death metal song. Even the fretless guitar, Fountainhead’s signature, doesn’t take center stage for most of the album. As a composer, he realizes there can be too much of a good thing, and having a wanky, fretless guitar solo on every song would cheapen the effect; the same is true of using symphonic elements with too heavy of a hand. The metal parts themselves can stand just fine without an orchestral backing to make them interesting, with sections like the tribal break in ‘Changeling’ feeling naturally interwoven for the song’s benefit, having been reprised from the song’s choral lines.

Likewise, the songs don’t feel fluffy. At one hour, Changeling is practically devoid of filler, with even the interludes being interesting segues into their following pieces. The four core members alone seemingly provide endless layers to uncover in each track. Arran McSporran (Virvum) is a well-known monster on the fart bass, and even he knows when to stop shredding and follow the rhythms beset by kit-master Mike Heller (ex-Fear Factory, Malignancy). The two execute rhythmic precision in tandem, with Heller backing many of the orchestral sections with jazz-infused beats and McSporran allowing these moments to shine just before yet another tasteful bass solo. The ending of ‘Abyss’ sees the two almost completely drop out, with the drums playing a simple two-note beat as distorted, doom metal guitars take hold and devour. Special mention goes to Morean, with his harshes being the most intelligible I’ve heard since Mikael Åkerfeldt in his prime. I came away from my first listen with so many of his vocal lines stuck firmly in my head, and I was shocked by how many I remembered upon the second. The chorus on ‘Anathema’ has been practically drilled into my brain, only helped by the short reprisal about five minutes in with a backing horn ensemble. This is all wrapped up tightly in Fountainhead’s fantastic production job, with every instrument remaining audible even when the entire band is blasting off at 300 BPM. The distorted guitars cut like a dagger, and McSporran’s bass sits comfortably between them along with Heller’s thunderous, jackhammer drums. 

The one small nitpick I can give is that some of the transitions feel a little strange. ‘Instant Results’ ends on a fadeout just as guest guitarist Jason Goebel (ex-Cynic) is getting jazzy, and the intro to ‘Changeling’ is almost intentionally jarring coming from ‘Metanoia Interlude’. These are, of course, rather small in the grand scheme of how the album plays out. There isn’t a major complaint I can make about Changeling other than the fact that it ends.

Prog, despite everything, seems to still have places to go. Changeling is unlike any of its peers, skirting the obvious Alkaloid and Obscura comparisons by injecting clever, restrained songwriting into its DNA. The first minute of ‘Instant Results’ fools you into thinking this is run-of-the-mill, space-y tech death, and then proceeds to backhand you with forward-thinking compositions for the rest of its runtime. Every moment of Changeling left me wowed by its genuine creativity. Akin to Orgone’s Pleroma, my AOTY of 2024, this feels like an album that took years of blood, sweat, and tears to create. The compositions, like the tendrils of some unknowable Outer God, snake their way through section after section, all while keeping the listeners grounded with grand choruses and reprisals that feel earned. Changeling have avoided the trappings of prog stereotypes every step of the way and come out victorious, paragons of what the genre in its purest form was meant to be. A testament to human innovation and skill, Changeling is the merging of multiple musical worlds to see one unified vision.

Recommended tracks: Instant Results, World? What World?, Falling in Circles, Abyss, Changeling, Anathema, Abdication
You may also like: Obsidious, Afterbirth, Horrendous, Tómárum, Dessiderium, An Abstract Illusion
Final verdict: 9.5/10

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

Seasons of Mist: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Changeling is:
– Tom “Fountainhead” Geldschläger (guitars, oud, keyboard)
– Mike Heller (Drums)
– Arran McSporran (Fretless bass)

– Morean (Vocals)

The post Review: Changeling – Changeling 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: technical death metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Spawn of Possession, Necrophagist, Decrepit Birth, Defeated Sanity
Country: Sweden
Release date: 21 February 2025

The search for the techiest band is a fool’s errand, but believe me, I’ve tried. The problem is that technicality is ill-defined. You want speed? Archspire. Compositional complexity? Ad Nauseam. Pure scale exercises? Viraemia. But if you’re on the search for the knotty, labyrinthine, and Baroque, Spawn of Possession were the zenith. With Spawn of Possession disbanding eight years ago, the tech death scene experienced a great loss as guitarist and composer Jonas Bryssling never joined another band, leaving only inferior acolytes in their prodigious wake. But now, thirteen years after Spawn of Possession’s swansong Incurso, Retromorphosis have come to claim the gnarled tech throne. 

“But how?” I hear you collectively asking. “Surely nobody could replace Spawn of Possession’s unique voice in tech!” Well Retromorphosis ARE Spawn of Possession, or rather features all members of the band that once was Spawn of Possession (including Byrssling!) except for KC Howard as a replacement on drums. And despite a decade-and-change of rust, Spawn of Possession Retromorphosis remain unchanged sonically. Psalumus Mortis is, of course, intricate but also quite old-school. After a decade of being at the frontier of prog and tech death, Christian Muenzner has returned to his Necrophagist-y roots; Erlend Caspersen has improved at the bass, if anything; and vocalist Dennis Röndum still has his distinctive pre-Archspire Archspire-style percussive growls, rapidly storytelling twisted narratives. “Aunt Christie’s Will” certainly seems similar to Ms. Sinclair in “The Evangelist.”

Along with the nostalgia trip comes some flaws on Psalmus Mortis regretfully magnified with time. For instance, while I understand the desire for rawer, more old-school production, the gothic “choirs” in tracks like “Obscure Exordium” and “Retromorphosis” should not be produced like they are in 2025—they were excusable fifteen years ago. The more melodic moments needn’t be relegated to a sibilant quality to the background, and the relatively poor production only hurts the composition by losing out on the minutiae. Moreover, the production is thin, and while the bass has a nice clacking tone, the other instruments feel a little weak in comparison, especially the lead guitar parts. That’s a shame because Psalmus Mortis excels at lead guitar parts as one would expect. “Vanished” and “Aunt Christie’s Will” both feature ripping Muenzner solos redolent of the good ol days of tech before all the “quantized BS” Retromorphosis seem deathly afraid of. Other tracks like “The Tree” and the lengthy “The Machine” are just straight up intimidating with their technical riffing. If you missed Spawn of Possession, those tracks should be all the stitching you need to sew up your once-broken heart. 

Naturally, Retromorphosis are as technical as you’d expect, extremely twisted riffs atop rapid-fire vocals and drums. But in the past decade or so, the scene has caught up to—and possibly exceeded—this lineup, although partially by design. Psalmus Mortis seems to place a greater emphasis on groove and heft in the songwriting than prior Spawn of Possession material, and I think the writing decision in the studio is a bit ridiculous: why advertise your band as the second-coming of goddamn Spawn of Possession and then dial back the technicality, even if just a smidgen? That’s like promising the Rapture and then sending down the Antichrist… oh wait. But seriously, no matter how well-composed these songs are (they are written wonderfully and are complicated yet approachable), I feel like I’m missing out on what I craved. Psalmus Mortis is produced awkwardly and is less technically interesting than Incurso. Heck, it’s an iota less ambitious in every manner: this thing only has a single lengthy track while Incurso had two; it’s a tad slower on average; and it’s also a decade later, allowing other bands to attain similar levels of craziness.

Despite all the flaws, nobody else is Spawn of Possession Retromorphosis. Jonas Bryssling is a special composer, his characteristic contrapuntal style still on full display, and nobody has vocals quite like Dennis Röndum. Psalmus Mortis scratches the itch and would be a technical triumph of the highest order for any other band, but I’m left merely whelmed.

Recommended tracks: Vanished, Aunt Christie’s Will
You may also like: Vomit the Hate, Carnosus, Hannes Grossmann, Aronious
Final verdict: 7/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

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

Retromorphosis is:
– Jonas Bryssling (guitars)
– Dennis Röndum (vocals)
– Christian Muenzner (guitars)
– Erlend Caspersen (bass)
– KC Howard (drums)

The post Review: Retromorphosis – Psalmus Mortis appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: atmospheric black metal, post-black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Altar of Plagues, Blut Aus Nord, Wolves in the Throne Room
Country: France
Release date: 24 January 2025

Sometimes, you find an album with a concept you connect to deeply through music’s unmatched ability to convey a shared, familiar human experience. Other times, you find Kadath. 

Atmospheric black metallers The Great Old Ones’ latest LP journeys the listener through a soundscape influenced by H.P. Lovecraft’s novella The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, a work about which I know nothing. My knowledge of Lovecraft’s universe is limited to the sporadic bits and pieces I’ve picked up subconsciously from the numerous other bands that draw upon his lore. So far, all I’ve put together is that there’s a giant, cosmic squid-like creature, or maybe several. But, no matter the inspiration or one’s familiarity with it, an hour-long record leaning heavily on the atmosphere it creates can be a captivating experience—or, perhaps more likely, it can be a tedious slog. Unsure of its literary underpinnings but excited nevertheless, I dive in to find out which way Kadath sways.¹

With an apparent urge to let you know the album’s title right away, the vocalist screams ‘Kadath!’ not fifteen seconds into the opening track, and a grim, guitar-driven surge follows. Evident immediately is the production, which, almost paradoxically, is thick and full while also being spacious, with plenty of room for each instrument to breathe. The result balances the spectral and the material: the sound’s smooth outer edges glisten evocatively and its heavy center pulses palpably. While the band’s more dissonant contemporaries (especially Blut Aus Nord) might look to suffocate the listener within the nightmares they create, The Great Old Ones leave space open to wander amongst Kadath’s horrors. Either approach, of course, can be done successfully, and the rich, darkened expanse created as soon as the needle drops bodes well for the rest of the album.

A striking atmosphere and production mean little if not filled with strong compositions, and on this Kadath also delivers. More than anything, the record is a glowing testament to the power of plain ol’ riffing: if you want to nod along to melodic mid-pacers, check “The Mouth of Madness”; if you’d rather risk damaging your neck, “Those from Ulthar” provides some heft; go ahead and bounce around to the groovy triplets and folkier flourishes found throughout “Me, the Dreamer”; or you could roll with the blackened tremolos in “Under the Sign of Koth”—the choice is yours. A lot of riffs can be stuffed into an hour of music, and The Great Old Ones make sure that each of theirs hits. Better still, melodic and atmospheric leads are often placed gracefully on top of the riffs below, further accentuating the album’s ‘spectral yet material’ aura. Another point for ‘captivating experience.’

Kadath isn’t just about the guitars: the drumming showcases rhythmic variety that keeps the compositions fresh while also offering plenty of its own character, and an active and audible bass slithers its way across all the tracks. If you check in on the rhythm section at any point in the album, one member (or both) is bound to be doing something interesting; neither spends much time simply going through the motions. Meanwhile, the vocalist’s coarse howls ring out in a style befitting (I imagine) of Lovecraftian horror, but the performance could be more dynamic—the vocals remain monotone for the most part, providing emphasis by dragging out certain words or syllables rather than by changing in tone or emotion. 

Any journey through the album would be incomplete without stopping to mention its figurative centerpiece: the penultimate track “Leng,” a fifteen-minute instrumental behemoth. For me, a ‘fifteen-minute instrumental behemoth’ would typically tip an album decidedly toward ‘tedious slog,’ but The Great Old Ones’ talent for crafting engaging compositions makes the track anything but tedious. “Leng” puts on display all the band has to offer: it’s simultaneously Kadath’s most pummeling, delicate, atmospheric, rhythmically dynamic, and instrumentally accomplished track—seriously, go listen for yourself. The last instrumental epic I remember truly enjoying was “Plateau of the Ages” from Agalloch’s The Serpent & The Sphere, released more than a decade ago. “Leng” is even better. 

If you couldn’t tell, I quite enjoy the sonic landscape that Kadath creates, but I wish the journey through it were a little shorter. Despite the dynamic instrumentation and compositions, I sometimes find myself drifting—possibly because Kadath’s overarching feel, while crafted excellently, doesn’t expand far beyond what you get in the album’s first few minutes. Although I’d prefer the album trimmed to fifty minutes, I wouldn’t want to be the one holding the shears. No passages immediately come to mind as superfluous, and each track has an identity distinct enough to warrant its inclusion. 

On the whole, Kadath leans resoundingly toward ‘captivating’ rather than ‘tedious.’ It’s an atmospheric success with a compositional and instrumental prowess strong enough to keep the journey compelling. Even without any knowledge of the Lovecraftian world from which the album spawned, I’ll gladly (and ignorantly²) return to Kadath for another trip.

Recommended tracks: Leng; Me, the Dreamer
You may also like: Thy Darkened Shade, Inter Arma, Sulphur Aeon
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

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

The Great Old Ones is:
– Benjamin Guerry (guitars, vocals)
– Aurélien Edouard (guitars)
– Alexandre Rouleau (guitars)
– Gregory Vouillat (bass)
– Julian Deana (drums)

1. After strong urging from many of my peers—including but not limited to: Andy, Justin, Cooper, and Zach—I promise to check out some Lovecraft. ︎
2. Well, maybe not always ‘ignorantly’ in light of the promise above. ︎

The post Review: The Great Old Ones – Kadath appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: folk black metal, progressive black metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Panopticon, Agalloch, Primordial, Wolves in the Throne Room
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: 7 February 2025

Romanticism breeds nationalism. The Romantic focus on emotion, individualism, and mysticism directly fomented a sense of collective cultural heritage to form the basis of the nation as we know it. I have long argued that black metal is a form of modern Romanticism (although that take is certainly not unique to me), and, thus, it is clearer why folk music and black metal have such a synergistic fusion. Black metal’s philosophy centers around individualism, yes, but also around pride for one’s cultural and national identity: if you look at any but the most remote corners of the globe, there will be a black metal band, and the odds are if they aren’t mediocre second-wave worship, they somehow inject their local music traditions into their sound. Black metal functions as a template for folk music of any kind to be amplified, indiscriminate and accessible. If we turn to Scotland, the nation’s traditions cry of bagpipes and of whistles, and on Andy Marshall’s sixth album over a decade into his career as Saor, the sounds of the Scots mix with stunning atmospheric black metal to become the Caledonian black metal band. 

Each track on Amidst the Ruins is a meandering journey, covering Lowlands and Highlands, isles and farmland. Apart from the folk piece “The Sylvan Embrace,” the songs all top the 11:30 mark, and they fly by despite their length. Saor’s had a consistent formula for songwriting that’s worked since 2013, and he hasn’t changed it much this time—if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Three of the four black metal tracks begin with a similar deluge of tremeloes and blast beats, exploding in vibrant sylvan shades of green. Underpinning the triumphant black metal and the oft Celtic guitar melodies is resonant bass and, this time around, a full string trio of violin, viola, and cello. The metallic core of Amidst the Ruins is epic and melodic, but the true magic happens in the perennial shifts from tumbling black metal to Caledonian folk music—or similarly when the guitar trades off from the lead melody, allowing the tin whistle, low whistle, or Uilleann pipes to conduct the song. Those moments constitute the hallmark of Saor’s sound, and all four tracks are chock full of them.

Lyrically, Amidst the Ruins is a tale of hope, of rising from the ashes and rebuilding. Performed through a mix of standard melodic black metal rasps—I think a good touchstone is Malo Civelli of Cân Bardd—with powerfully belted clean, often dueted, choruses, the message of Amidst the Ruins is powerful, and the music’s swelling climaxes and fatherland aesthetics complement the defiance in the face of ruin. Saor aren’t afraid to get pensive, though, and the extended neofolk track “The Sylvan Embrace” is heartfelt and much moodier than the surrounding metal’s saccharine chord progressions and sweet sweet melodies. Featuring whispered vocals, cello, and gentle acoustic guitars that scream “Agalloch!,” the song is essential to Amidst the Ruins, and I almost wish it were up one more spot in the tracklist to bisect the album since the four black metal tracks all play to a similar mood.  

While the pastoral epics like bookending tracks “Amidst the Ruins” and “Rebirth” are thoughtfully composed, stunning, and easy to listen to, I have to mention that the Caledonian aesthetic isn’t as fundamental to the sound as it is to the band’s identity. Rather than incorporating traditional Scottish melodies and technique into the composition itself, it’s superimposed onto a folk black metal blueprint (a damn good one, at least). If I changed the whistles and pipes to bluegrass, I’d have middle-era Panopticon; to dungeon-synthy keys and flutes I’d get Summoning; and to a more simple, sparse woodsiness, I’d have a great Cascadian black metal band. Andy Marshall is an excellent composer and neither gimmicky nor derivative, but I long for a deeper Scottish-ness to the music: Amidst the Ruins is top-shelf atmospheric black metal with entertaining folk inclusions, but for a band positioning itself as so steeped in tradition, I’d like to see that as a more integral part of the sound from the very beginning of the process.

At this point, Saor are a folk black metal institution, and you know each new album will be quality stuff, the winding, progressive tracks easy to get swept away in. Although not the most ground-breaking release in his catalog, Saor’s sixth album is magnificent and foreboding. Amidst the Ruins is so wonderfully evocative with its musical storytelling even the English will find something to love here.

Recommended tracks: Amidst the Ruins, The Sylvan Embrace, Rebirth
You may also like: Gallowbraid, Cân Bardd, Thrawsunblat, Fellwarden
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

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

Saor is:
Andy Marshall (everything)
Ella Zlotos – Female Vocals, Tin Whistles, Low Whistles, Uilleann Pipes
Carlos Vivas – Drums
Jo Quail – Cello & FX on “The Sylvan Embrace”
Àngela Moya Serrat – Violin on “Amidst the Ruins”, “Echoes of the Ancient Land” & “Rebirth”
Miguel Izquierdo – Viola on “Amidst the Ruins”, “Echoes of the Ancient Land” & “Rebirth”
Samuel C. Ledesma – Cello on “Amidst the Ruins”, “Echoes of the Ancient Land” & “Rebirth”

The post Review: Saor – Amidst the Ruins appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Album art by Devilnax

Style: Progressive metal, progressive rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Leprous, Porcupine Tree, Fates Warning, Pain of Salvation, Riverside, Agent Fresco
Country: Italy
Release date: 23 August 2024

If you’ve spent any time on the internet, you will have seen the phrases “copium” and “hopium” in all sorts of memes—from denial about their favorite manga character being dead¹ to wish-thinking Time II into existence (thanks Jari, you finally did it) to a hypothetical third party winning the US elections—their usage is rarely anything more than half-serious. When one of my main underground² darlings Kingcrow announced that their new album was titled Hopium—most likely blissfully unaware of internet meme culture—I had to do a double-take to rewire my brain because I knew for certain that these guys were serious about it.

Hopium continues in the rhythmical, electronic direction of The Persistence but is far less bleak in tone and brings back some of the band’s eclecticism of old in the form of zany electronic synths and latin guitar playing. In essence, Hopium is less mood piece and more prog, its experimentation not necessarily for any deep emotional effect as much as Kingcrow were just messing around for the thrill of it. Not that Kingcrow will ever completely ditch their dramatism or heartfelt sadness, but songs like “Parallel Lines” with its zany trance synths and sexy guitar solo or “Night Drive” with its mechanical synths and grinding riff in its final minutes are less moody and are mostly just really damn cool. Above all else, Hopium is a fun, dynamic prog metal album with high technicality, strong vocal melodies, nifty experimentation, interesting twists and turns, and a dark undercurrent of tasteful melodrama tying it all together.

Honestly, there is so much to discuss that I don’t even know where to begin praising the record. Should I talk about “Glitch” and its sing-along chorus that might be chorus of the year for how incredibly hype it is? Or perhaps you want to know about the stunning climaxes of “Parallel Lines” and its cacophony of polyrhythmic mastery and brooding synths, or “Losing Game” that erupts after repeatedly chanting “Now the curtain has fallen” over an increasingly anxious rhythm? Maybe it’s better to first talk about how the band still writes incredible mood pieces when they so desire like “New Moon Harvest”, “Night Drive”, and the title track? And what about the superb individual performances? 

That last part is probably worth expanding upon: Kingcrow is exceedingly rhythmical on Hopium, having drums, bass, guitars, synths, and sometimes even vocals work in tandem to create a tapestry of rhythmic elements that come together in a way that is as groovy as it is melodic and textured. Though I lack the vocabulary to do it justice, Thundra Cafolla lays down a monumental performance on drums. On previous albums he tended to play in a more understated way, often hiding polyrhythms in parts that seemed straightforward, but on tracks like “Parallel Lines” or “Vicious Circle” he really lets loose and the result is phenomenal. On guitars, Diego Cafolla and Ivan Nastisic provide a colorful twin attack, their styles ranging from sexy latin acoustic, to urgent Fear of a Blank Planet-era Porcupine Tree hard rock, to textural fingerpicking, to Leprous-esque staccato riffs, and more. I do still miss the guitar solos that The Persistence largely did away with as those were some of my favorites in the entire genre, but the two that we do get in “Parallel Lines” and in “New Moon Harvest” are incredible. Finally, Diego Marchesi sings his heart out, showing a newfound level of vulnerability in his voice on the softer parts—“New Moon Harvest” and “Come Through” being especially touching—and just being all around excellent otherwise.³

However, I do have some minor criticisms about Hopium. Primarily, the latter half of the album misses some of the urgency and faster pacing of the first half. Four out of five tracks are either slow burners or mood pieces, and though “Vicious Circle” is tighter and more upbeat, its pacing doesn’t come close to the final chorus of “Glitch” or the adrenaline-fueled latin fingerpicking of “Losing Game”. Furthermore, its chorus is the weakest one on the album. These issues compound and make the second half feel a bit slow and bloated even if everything besides the aforementioned chorus is great individually. Otherwise, the opener “Kintsugi” has an incredibly infectious main groove and chorus, but its ABAB structure doesn’t progress much at all and could have benefitted from either an interesting twist or two, or some flashy showmanship. None of these issues break the album or anything, but they do hamper its sky-high potential a bit.

Hopium provides an interesting development of Kingcrow’s sound, taking the electronic approach of The Persistence and marrying it to the eclecticism and extroversion of their earlier work, yielding an experience that is both deeply emotional and intellectually challenging. Though its second half can be a bit slow, the depth and sheer cool-factor of their writing more than makes up for it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to whiff some Hopium that their next album won’t take another six years to release.⁴

Recommended tracks: Glitch, Parallel Lines, Losing Game
You may also like: Ions, Temic, Rendezvous Point
Final verdict: 8/10

1. LOOKING AT YOU, GOJO FANS ︎
2. Well, not anymore. They were well over our monthly listener cap for the majority of the year so we’re only getting to it now. ︎
3.  Sorry Riccardo Nifosi: I have a terrible ear for bass, but I’m sure you did just as well! ︎
4.  Waiter, waiter! Could I order some more guitar solos as well? ︎

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

Label: Season of Mist – Bandcamp | Facebook

Kingcrow is:
– Diego Marchesi (vocals)
– Diego Cafolla (guitars, keyboards, backing vocals)
– Ivan Nastasic (guitars, backing vocals)
– Riccardo Nifosi (bass, backing vocals)
– Thundra Cafolla (drums, percussion)

The post Missed Album Review: Kingcrow – Hopium appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive sludge metal, progressive death metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Mastodon, Opeth, Enslaved, heavier Alice in Chains
Country: Canada
Release date: August 30^th, 2024

When An Abstract Illusion dropped their opus Woe in 2022, it took the prog metal scene by storm accomplishing something most artists are incapable of, because as I said in my Woe review, creating is hard. There’s a certain momentum to creating that goes just as easily as it comes, and it multiplies in difficulty the more people you add into the mix. Woe was a massive undertaking that finally paid off in the form of praise and coveted scores, but that’s not always the case. Looking at you, Jari.

But on the eve of Time II’s release, a much smaller hiatus has been broken as well. Anciients’ Voice of the Void came out in 2016, and after that, the occasional update and promise of new music was all we got. But as I said in my intro, creating is tough. Anciients toughed out COVID, lineup changes, and life throwing everything at the band. The fact that they came out triumphant is worthy of a celebration in of itself, and a testament to how much passion they’ve got for their music. But does that passion carry over into the album itself? 

Right off the bat, the first two songs are fantastic. ‘Forbidden Sanctuary’ sounds better than anything Mastodon has put out in years, and the main driving riff is what stuck out to me the most upon first listen. The song exploding into a blast beat around the seven-minute mark set all expectations high. ‘Despoiled’ only added to the hype, with riffs reminiscent of Crack the Skye-era Mastodon with a much faster, less moody atmosphere.

But, like a Prius with a rocket engine strapped to it, Beyond starts really strong and fizzles out way too soon, turning into a primordial mush that I can’t quite make heads or tails of. There are fantastic moments, like the back half and amazing keyboards of ‘Is It Your God’ or ‘Cloak of The Vast and Black’ picking up the tempo with its excellent verse, but most of the songs fly by without anything for me to latch onto. Normally, an album flying by isn’t a bad thing, but when Beyond ended, all I could think was “Alright”.

My mind isn’t as blown as I’d like to be. This isn’t an album like Zon where I was so overwhelmed with what I was listening to that I didn’t quite get it yet; this album is the opposite. I would say it’s easily as good as Voice of the Void, but rather than expanding upon that sound, Anciients seem to have drifted sideways. While still formidable in their own right, nothing here (aside from the occasional keyboard noodling) sounds fresh enough to warrant a higher score. The songs are all good, but lack distinguishing features in each that can elevate them from good to great. Even more frustratingly, Anciients are once again on the verge of a masterpiece, only to miss the mark by a hair. 

This is a good album, don’t get me wrong. Anciients are incredibly consistent in what they do, and I’m not trying to take away from the album they crafted here. I’m happy they finally got this out, and at the very least, I hope they’re proud of what they did. But I’m left a little soured and wanting just slightly more. Perhaps my score will change by the end of the year, but this is one of the few where I’ve been dead set on the rating since first listen. A valiant effort, just not quite there yet.

Recommended tracks: Forbidden Sanctuary, Despoiled, Cloak of The Vast and Black
You may also like: Obsidian Tide, Witch Ripper, Wills Dissolve, Astrakhan
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Season of Mist – Bandcamp | Facebook

Anciients is:
– Mike Hannay (Drums)
– Kenneth Paul Cook (guitars, vocals)
– Brock MacInnes (guitars)
– Rory O’Brien (bass)

The post Review: Anciients – Beyond the Reach of the Sun appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal, post-metal, djent (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: TesseracT, Alcest, Vildjharta, Sylvaine
Country: France
Release date: 6 September 2024

Metal is one of many genres uniquely positioned to provide catharsis through its inherent instrumental intensity: more obviously, you have the Archspire approach of playing instruments blisteringly fast into oblivion or the Meshuggah approach of slamming your skull in with thick chunky grooves, but intensity can be found on the other end of the heaviness spectrum as well as in the power metal hyper-melodicism of Pathfinder or the all-encompassing sun-kissed guitar tone of Alcest, all giving emotional release in their onslaught of speed, technicality, or atmosphere. It would seem quite fitting, then, that themes of catharsis centralize Vestige’s debut, Janis: does it exorcise the listener of their unwanted woes or does it just leave us feeling spent?

Vestige eagerly explore different combinations of post-metal and djent on Janis: any given song will feature either dreamy wall-of-sound atmospherics, harsh thall passages, or both at the same time, sounding like if Neige, who volunteers harsh vocals on “Automne Part 2,” decided on a dime that Les Voyages de l’âme wasn’t groovy enough and bought every Vildhjarta-sounding Neural DSP archetype he could find in the throes of a mid-life crisis. The end result comes remarkably close to Sgàile’s “Silence” in how it navigates a mixture of djenty grooves and post-metal sensibilities, but here they are explored through darker, edgier tones and rawer production. Note, though, that the less slick production doesn’t hamper Janis’s sound but works well in tandem with its post-black metal roots.

Many of Janis’s highlights are found on the post-metal focused tracks: opener “Différent” sets the tone with a soothing aquatic guitar tone; “Océan” oscillates between heavier djent moments and wall-of-sound atmospherics and ends with some beautiful yet somber synth pads; “Automne Part 1” gloriously embodies Alcestian ideas, bleeding from post-black intensity into lush and spacious guitar and vocal work, conjuring images of an ethereal creature beckoning me to the heart of a cave, all culminating in a crushing djent breakdown; and closer “Avant la Fin” sits solely in a calmer atmosphere, like luxuriating in a warm secluded spring after a long journey. Vestige have shown early on in their career that they grasp the fundamentals of post-black metal and know how to utilize it to their benefit.

However, I can’t shake this nagging feeling that I want just a little more from Vestige: while the execution is certainly there as far as the post-black elements are concerned, it often teeters into aping territory, coming across more like Alcest’s cutting room floor material than a unique vision crafted by Vestige. While the groovier moments certainly help to alleviate this issue, the incorporation of djent ultimately causes more problems than it solves: “Deviens la Nuit” feels particularly uninspired, as if the song is chugging along out of obligation as opposed to an innate desire to groove, save for a couple of points of interest near the bridge; other songs that mix djent and post-metal like “Stigmates du Temp” feel a bit unfocused, lilting from palm-muted quasi-metalcore into effect-laden guitar passages. However, it should be noted that most songs have at least one central point of interest, whether it be a climactic groove or a slick, ethereal post-metal passage: the aforementioned “Stigmates du Temps” features some killer angular guitar work in its closing moments and is carried along by a pleasant vocal performance. It’s just a shame that these better ideas are bookended by songwriting that is either unfocused, uninspired, or living in the shadow of its influences.

I feel decidedly mixed about Janis: a combination of djent and post-black metal seems like a slam-dunk formula, as it worked so magnificently for Sgàile earlier this year, but Janis’s meandering songwriting and uninspired thall hamper the decent post-metal on display and strip the music of its catharsis. Vestige have their work cut out for them as far as fleshing out their identity is concerned, but given this is their debut, I imagine that they will figure out how to refine their songwriting and carve out a niche in their sound. I do like where they’re going with their combination of styles, but Janis is at best a stepping stone to a more realized and complete vision. In the meantime, I will return to screaming into the void as my primary method of catharsis.

Recommended Tracks: Automne Part 1, Envol de l’âme, Océan
You may also like: Needle, Novembre, Uneven Structure, Sgàile
Final verdict: 6/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook

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

Vestige is:
– Théodore Rondeau (vocals)
– Thomas Petit (guitars)
– Pierre-André Krauzer (bass)
– Quentin Regnault (drums)

The post Review: Vestige – Janis appeared first on The Progressive Subway.