Style: Progressive metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Fates Warning, Symphony X, Opeth
Country: Israel
Release date: 25 July 2025

One of my favorite obscure albums to recommend to people is Orpheus Blade’s debut Wolf’s Cry. Its cinematic songwriting, dark atmosphere, grandiose production values, excellent guitarwork, and a charismatic female/male vocal duet from Adi Bitran and guest singer Henning Basse (Metalium, Legions of the Night) made for a uniquely compelling experience. Ever since I discovered the album, I’ve been eagerly waiting for a follow-up and have regularly harassed a friend of mine who knows the band personally about album no. 2’s status. For years, all he relayed to me was that “IT’S COMING, I SWEAR!”¹ despite absolute radio silence from their social media accounts. This continued until one day Christopher thoughtlessly said on my lunch break “oh btw Sam there’s a new Orpheus Blade out—you should probably review that.” DAMMIT SHACHAR WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY ANYTHING?! THEY ANNOUNCED THIS WEEKS AGO!

Orpheus Blade has undergone quite a transformation since Wolf’s Cry. The only original remaining member is Adi Bitran, who took up about half the vocal duties before. It’s especially a shame to have lost Henning Basse as the dude/dudette vocal duet was one of Wolf’s Cry’s main selling points—I didn’t even realize he was only a guest singer until researching for Obsessed in Red. Gal Ben Haim’s phenomenal guitarwork is also no more; he has been replaced by Yaron Gilad (ex-Tillian) and Danny Aram. Safe to say, the new cast has some very big shoes to fill. 

…they do not. As much as I hate to say it, Obsessed in Red is a step down in nearly every single facet from Wolf’s Cry. Let’s start with the production. Simply put, Obsessed in Red sounds like a demo: weak guitar tones, muffled drums, vocals being unnaturally forward, poor mastering, and just a general lack of any modern polish or sheen make the record sound unpleasantly amateurish and a slog to listen to before any thought is given to the music itself. If you told me that Obsessed in Red came out in 2010, I would have believed you, and even then I still would have called the production mediocre at best. Jacob Hansen, who mixed and mastered Wolf’s Cry, is nowhere to be seen, but it’s clear that he wasn’t adequately replaced and the result is unacceptable for this day and age. 

Still, as a reviewer I cannot let myself be shackled to a bad first impression based on production difficulties. Unfortunately, the songwriting doesn’t rescue Obsessed in Red. The dark cinematic style that made Wolf’s Cry so compelling has been replaced by a much more standard prog/power-ish metal base with some death metal and gothic elements sprinkled on top for garnish. What spark the record has generally comes from these darker components—gnarly tremolo picked riffs (“Unattained”), polyrhythmic double kick drum beats (“Anywhere But Here”, “Unattained”), melancholic guitar leads (“Those Who Cannot Speak”), and impressively monstrous harsh vocals throughout—but they are consistently undermined by the atrocious production and otherwise middling songwriting. The big issue is that the band’s foundational prog/power sound barely inspires. Whether it’s the bland heavy metal main riff from “Of Tales and Terrors”, the middling harmonies in “Anywhere but Here”, or the well-performed but structurally entirely predictable shredding of “My Red Obsessions”, when central components fail, the entire structure crumbles. 

Another central songwriting component that’s lacking is Bitran’s clean vocals, which seem to have deteriorated from Wolf’s Cry. Part of this might be due to the mix, which often makes her sound thin, but on a deeper level her delivery is just a bit meek. The vocal lines themselves are mostly fine and she hits every note cleanly, but she struggles to project her voice with the force and add the necessary grit for a metal band, leading to some particularly bad moments like the chorus of opener “My Arms for Those Wings” (speaking of bad first impressions), or the verses in “Of Tales and Terror”; Henning Basse’s contribution is sorely missed here. She’s much better when she’s not required to project as much, allowing her to showcase a breathy crooning style which works especially well in the softer sections (e.g. the opening of “Nicanor”). Still, her crooning over the band’s relatively straightforward style is a Wolf’s far cry from the debut, where the dark cinematic atmosphere gave her an ideal backdrop to shine. The one unambiguously positive development for the vocals, however, is with the harshes, which have improved in both presence and ferocity. Overall, it makes for a performance that’s competent but rarely commanding—serviceable in the softer or harsher extremes, but disappointingly middling everywhere in between.

If anything, Obsessed in Red feels phoned in, like the band had enough of sitting on this material for so long and said “fuck it, let’s just release the thing.” The uninspired way the album closes out feels emblematic of that—after “Nicanor” culminates in an underwhelming finale, “At Her Feet” concludes the record with nothing but Bitran crooning over a synth backdrop that receives little to no development. The production is equally careless, and technical skill and a few moments of inspiration cannot save the largely lifeless songwriting. It pains me to say, but next to nothing of the vigor and creativity that made Wolf’s Cry so compelling has survived this past decade. My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined.

Recommended tracks: Unattained, Those Who Cannot Speak
You may also like: The Anchoret, Hunted, Terra Odium, Novembre
Final verdict: 4/10

1. Our WhatsApp communication is in all caps—don’t ask me why. ︎

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

Label: Independent

Orpheus Blade is:
– Adi Bitran (vocals)
– Yaron Gilad (guitars)
– Danny Aram (guitars)
– Ido Gal (bass)
– Stivie Salman (bass)
– Nitzan Ravhon (drums)
With guests:
– Davidavi Dolev (backig vocals)

The post Review: Orpheus Blade – Obsessed in Red appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive death metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Ne Obliviscaris, Black Crown Initiate, Opeth
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: 4 July 2025

Progressive metal is a genre that thrives off pushing its own boundaries, each band trying to outdo their peers be it through instrumental prowess, philosophical depth, or sheer originality. As such, progressive metal is a genre defined by its high water mark albums: releases where an artist breaks free from the faceless crowd around them and manages to rise head and shoulders above, often inspiring a legion of copycats in their wake. In the wider prog scene, albums like Dream Theater’s Images and Words, Tool’s Ænima, and Meshuggah’s Nothing are such examples, but if one narrows their focus to progressive death metal, two bands come starkly into view: Opeth and Ne Obliviscaris.

While the bands’ respective sounds differ in some fundamental ways, their fusions of the unabashed viscerality of death metal with an insistence that the sub-genre could be something beautiful have made them the forerunners of modern progressive death metal. In the horde of imitators that now ape their every move, it can be hard to find music worth listening to over its muses, but perhaps it’s the struggle that makes it all the more pleasing when you find something worth sharing. Enter Erebor with Infinitus Somnium.

Eschewing the much more technical stylings of Inherent Malevolence, their debut release, Infinitus Somnium, or an infinite dream in Latin, sees Erebor honing their skills in longform composition. Made up of a single three-part track that comprises its entire forty-three minute runtime, this album is an exercise in tension and release. Across it, one is equally likely to hear a reverb-laden clean guitar ringing out in saccharine sadness as they are to hear a blistering solo or torrential blast beat. In fact, the tracks are more akin to post-metal in structure, with their meticulous buildups and decidedly epic climaxes, albeit with a clearly prog death texture. In my first listens, I struggled to work my way through a few of the more intense transitions, but as I became more familiar with the album, they went down easier and I now enjoy basically every moment.

The majority of the enjoyment I gleaned from Infinitus Somnium came from subtle ease and sway of tension between the guitar and drum parts to create spectacle. Take for instance, the rapid fire riffage and ensuing hailstorm of blast beats that begins the first heavy section of “The Endeavor.” The guitars alter their accent patterns to emphasize different parts of the drumbeat as the entire riff evolves into increasingly epic versions of itself, speaking to both the band’s compositional chops and their commitment to grandeur. And it’s that same commitment that makes dozens of moments across the album so engaging. From the actually hilarious drum fill that kicks “The Tower” into gear to the delightfully melodic and tastefully shreddy solos scattered across Infinitus Somnium, there is hardly a time while listening that I’m not smiling in the joy of prog death done well.

With its extended compositions and panoramic soundscapes, Infinitus Somnium demands comparisons to Ne Obliviscaris. The drumming across the album is wrought with the double bass heavy stylings of Dan Presland, and moments like the blooming chords around the middle of “The Endeavor” or the monumental climax of “The Apotheosis” sound as though Erebor’s guitarists may have a tape recorder hidden somewhere in NeO’s practice room. Erebor are clearly big fans of the death metallers from down under, and they wear their influences on their sleeve. 

Still, when you pit yourself up against one of the greats, you aren’t getting out of it scot-free. In a stat by stat comparison to NeO, Erebor holds its own except for in one category: the bass. Don’t get me wrong, Infinitus Somnium has plenty of bass sound—in fact, the mix in general is quite good—but the bass parts are just not that exciting. They weave their way through the drum and guitar parts like a corn snake through a field… and that’s all it does. On an album where every other instrument is free to explore the peaks of its potential, I expected one or two standout bass moments and never found them. Speaking of expectations, another element that Erebor lacks in respect to most other progressive death metal bands of this style is clean vocals, and their absence is noticeable. Many of the extended clean guitar sections throughout the album sound as though they were written around a lead melody, but nothing ever appears. There are a few intimate solos, and violin rears its head for a few seconds in “The Tower,” but the issue remains apparent as chords ring out and the drums chill out for a few seconds to support something that just never happens. Cleans very well may not be in the cards for Erebor, but they need to find something to fill the gaps in the softer moments. Bass perhaps? Thankfully, the harshes are totally serviceable and just varied enough to keep the sections where they are employed engaging.

Coming from a band that just switched from technical to progressive death metal and employing the ever risky album structure of one long song, Infinitus Somnium is an album that surprised me with how much I enjoyed it. While it doesn’t reach the same euphoric highs of the bands it imitates, it gets damn close, and I find myself wanting more in this long-form compositional style from Erebor. Who knows? With Xen out of band, any subsequent Erebor album may be the next best thing in the absence of Ne Obliviscaris.

Recommended tracks: The whole thing. It’s one long song.
You may also like: An Abstract Illusion, Serein, Tomarum, Citadel, Iapetus
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

Label: independent

Erebor is:
– Will Unwin (bass)
– Tom Unwin (drums)
– Mia Bennet (guitars)
– Jordan Giles (guitars, vocals)
– Valentine Rodriguez (vocals)

The post Review: Erebor – Infinitus Somnium appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive death metal, melodic death metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Alkaloid, Opeth, Blood Incantation, Persefone
Country: Michigan, United States
Release date: 13 June 2025

You see the over-saturated artwork and read the utterly inane band name. You think to yourself, “Here we go with another over-ambitious sci-fi themed zany djent solo-project.” Oh how wrong you are. The Biscuit Merchant isn’t a djent band but rather a one-man prog death project from Ann Arbor, Michigan, and Tempora marks his tenth full-length release since debuting in 2017. From the name to the spacefaring artwork, there’s an air of tongue-in-cheek ambition, but beneath the surface is a sincere and sprawling attempt at progressive death metal.

Despite being most easily categorized as progressive (and melodic) death metal, the fusion of genres that The Biscuit Merchant utilizes on Tempora feels a lot more like a tour of the metal scene at large. For every head-bang inducing chugger of a riff (“Victorious” and “Tempora”) there’s a galloping, power-metal tinged melody (“Kill Time” and “Amidakuji”) or a wah-laden, classic rock infused solo (“Uncommon Enemies” and “Judgement Day”). The eclectic fusion of genres ends up sounding something like Alkaloid meets Xoth meets Opeth, but the gravitational force holding Tempora’s disparate influences together is its vocal performance. Both clean and harsh, the vocals give each track a catchy edge that goes great lengths in making the album feel cohesive, despite never employing any overtly technical or flashy techniques. Unfortunately, for as much effort as the vocals put towards making the album’s vast scope cohesive, the song structures do the opposite.

The eight tracks that make up Tempora fall into two categories: those that roughly follow a traditional song structure and those that don’t. My issue lies with the latter. Tracks like “Kill Time” and “Celestial Awakening” each make use of a through-composed structure that falls apart in the songs’ back halves. Riffs are thrown at the listener, and not one seems to follow logically from what came before or flow smoothly into what comes after. This style can be done well—look no farther than BTBAM or last year’s critical darling Blood Incantation’s Absolute Elsewhere—but its execution here is too haphazard. The structures of the album’s two longest tracks, “Judgement Day” and “Tempora,” are equally hairy, with the title track finale featuring an entirely unprecedented three-minute surf rock segment that almost made me quit the album entirely. Ideally, a through-composed track has some sort of arc that allows the listener to form expectations about what will come next, and the best bands know when to conform to and when to subvert those expectations. The Biscuit Merchant leans far too heavily on subversion.

Thankfully, when The Biscuit Merchant employs a traditional song structure like on “Victorious” (a shameless rip-off of Opeth’s “Master’s Apprentices”) and “Uncommon Enemies,” The Merchant delivers solid and easily enjoyed bits of progressive death metal. While the instrumental “Amidakuji” goes a bit up its own ass with the number of solos and the intro track “Temporal Delusion” is just an intro track, they too are solid cuts that don’t crumble under unwieldy song structures. Noticeably, these are the four shortest tracks on the album, leaving the vast majority of the record to suffer The Biscuit Merchant’s songwriting woes.

Tempora is certainly an ambitious record, and adventurous metalheads may find individual moments worth dissecting. But for all its energy and genre splicing, Tempora lacks the compositional maturity to tie its parts into a compelling whole. Hopefully, The Biscuit Merchant lets his goods spend a few extra minutes in the oven from here on out.

Recommended tracks: Victorious, Amidakuji, Uncommon Enemies
You may also like: Resuscitate, Xoth, Witch Ripper
Final verdict: 5/10

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

Label: independent

The Biscuit Merchant is:
– Justin Lawnchair (everything)

The post Review: The Biscuit Merchant – Tempora appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by: Dmitry Rogatnev

Style: Avant-garde Metal, Brutal Death Metal, Deathgrind, Jazz Fusion (Harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Cattle Decapitation, The Number Twelve Looks Like You, The Red Chord, Pathology
Country: Russia
Release date: 13 June 2025

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you took insanely technical deathgrind, the Cowboy Bebop soundtrack, and a smoky jazz joint on the harbor, then shot them through the musical equivalent of whatever hellish industrial-grade contraption processes chum? Me neither, but apparently ByoNoiseGenerator did. These unhinged Russians have crawled out from the briny depths of Perm Krai after seven years away, dripping seaweed and sheathed in the viscera of multitudinous aquatic horrors, bludgeoned into pulp and ready to serve via the stern and merciless hand of avant-garde deathgrind. Break out your bibs and fetch the butter—time to chow down on the band’s third LP, Subnormal Dives.

To anyone expecting the sultry and sophisticated sax-stylings of say, a Rivers of Nihil or Sleep Token, you may want to get back in your dinghy and row for the nearest opposite coastline. ByoNoiseGenerator, true to their name, are out here dropping sonic depth charges loaded to the gills with pure aural madness. Grooving slam breakdowns (“NULL.state = PERMANENT; return VOID;“), Primus-esque guitar funkery (“NoSuccessToday!”),  and skull-pulping grindcore all shoot through violent streaks of freeform jazz both manic and moody—often within the confines of the same track. For the first nine minutes,¹ ByoNoiseGenerator keep the pressure building as they cram multiple songs’ worth of ideas into tracks that nary crack the three minute mark. The band pull the listener deeper and deeper into this Subnormal Dive, gleefully assaulting our ears with a smorgasbord of hyper-processed violence perhaps only meant for the deepest of undersea dwellers.

It’s not until “LoveChargedDiveBombs” that we receive any surcease from ByoNoiseGenerator’s bio-organic brutality, with gentle radar pings, feathering drum and bass, and flickering saxophone doots creating an almost pleasant atmosphere. Denigrating chaos returns soon after via trampling blast beats and vocalist Tim’s inhuman growls, but the preceding forty-five seconds go a surprisingly long way towards letting me catch my breath before the band force me back underwater. The choice to slow things down in the song’s back half, showcases how—when it fancies them—ByoNoiseGenerator are capable of creating some rather captivating stretches of music. This characteristic defines more than a few songs across the platter (“Eb(D#),” “I’mNot20Anymore (21Ne),” “4-HO-DMTNzambiKult,”), and the band often nail the transitions in spite of the general atmosphere of mad-cap insanity and sonic whiplash that underscores their efforts.

Elsewhere and everywhere across Subnormal Dives, however, chaos reigns supreme. For twenty-three minutes, ByoNoiseGenerator toss and tumble the listener across heinous tempo and stylistic changes that would give even the most seasoned diver the bends. Songs are less-definable by any idea of coherent structure, and more by what fleeting strips of music that may qualify as identifiable (and palatable) to you. For my money, I love when the band cut away the deathgrind to revel in the smoky notes of playful saxophone and fluttering cymbal work that give Subnormal Dives its Bebop aesthetic. Whether that’s the funky drum-and-bass sections (“4-HO-DMTNzambiKult,” “deBroglieNeverExisted”) or back alley neo-noir vibes (“LoveChargedDiveBombs,” “5mgInspiredVibes”), these parts stand out as highlights of ByoNoiseGenerator’s glittering talent. For others, that satisfaction may come from the relentless grindcore butchery staining every cut.

Wherever you land, Subnormal Dives is a journey taken with the highest of caution. Even well-adjusted metalheads may struggle to decipher the band’s non-euclidean configurations, driven mad instead by ByoNoiseGenerator’s insistence on an almost blink-and-you’ll-miss-it approach to songcraft. There’s something to be said for not beating a motif, riff, etc. to death, but the opposite holds true, too. Take the scraping death metal ebb and flow at 1:38 in “IQ69Exaltations,” which serves well in hooking the listener—but just as you’re really starting to nibble, the moment is gone, a fish fry-flash in the pan, and we’re on to new flavors. Fortunately, with grindcore you’re never in for that long of a haul. Subnormal Dives’ twenty-three minutes fly by like a marlin on a mission. And when shit is this gleefully unhinged, it’s hard not to have a good time. Just… maybe don’t ask how they make the fish stix.

Recommended tracks: Eb(D#), LoveChargedDiveBombs, deBroglieNeverExisted, 5mgInspiredVibes
You may also like: Blastanus, Malignancy, DeathFuckingCunt, Diskord, Veilburner, Bloody Cumshot
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Transcending Obscurity Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

ByoNoiseGenerator is:
– M1t (bass)
– NOx (drums)
– Tim (vocals)
– HaL° (guitars)
– Sh3la (saxophone)

1.  That’s five whole tracks here. Grindcore is wild, I tell yah what. ︎

The post Review: ByoNoiseGenerator – Subnormal Dives appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by: Peter Mohrbacher

Style: Progressive Technical Death Metal, Technical Death Metal, Death Metal (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Rivers of Nihil, Kardashev, The Zenith Passage, Allegaeon, Vale of Pnath
Country: California, United States
Release date: 13 June 2025

The intersection of death metal and science-fiction has always felt a tad strange when viewed from on high. When most people hear “death metal,” they undoubtedly think of aggressive music centered on viscera, violence, and, well… death. Knuckle-dragging riffs, blast beats, and Cookie Monster vocals. The genre hardly feels like it would pair well with the grand and often philosophical aims of the science-fiction genre. Yet, thanks to early pioneers like Atheist with 1991’s Unquestionable Presence and Cynic with 1993’s Focus, death metal showed its capacity for expansion, its ability to adopt an ethos closer in proximity to sci-fi’s. Nowadays, progressive death metal is nothing new, with acts like An Abstract Illusion, Blood Incantation, Horrendous, and Kardashev offering grand and expansive material focused on far more than simple blood and guts.

Lurking among this galactic pantheon of heady prog-deathers is California’s Fallujah. Blending together clean vocals and introspective synth-baked passages with space-bending guitar acrobatics, monstrous growls, and warp-capable drumming, Fallujah carved out their nexus in this strange interstitial space between death metal’s brutality and sci-fi’s “thinking man’s” ideals starting with 2014’s celebrated The Flesh Prevails. Subsequent releases only strengthened this position, the band undiminished despite numerous lineup changes across the years. Having last left us with 2022’s spellbinding codex, Empyrean, Fallujah have emerged from the void once more to impart on us their sixth full-length. Does Xenotaph represent a continuing ascension into the stars, or have the thrusters begun to fail?

I don’t think we need to alert Earth of any imminent impacts; after clearing the semi-intro track, we get hit with “Kaleidoscopic Waves,” a ripping piece of progressive technical death metal that erupts against the ears like a star gone supernova. The band unleash a fusilade of computational guitar work and hull-cracking percussion against soft beds of atmospheric synths while vocalist Kyle Schaefer shreds reality and soothes the celestial wounds alike with his arsenal of growls and cleans. The rest of Xenotaph plays out similarly across the forty-two minute runtime, though that’s not to say every track is simple repetition. Cuts like “The Crystalline Veil” see Schaefer bringing in metalcore-coded cleans atop stitches of jazzy death drumming, while follow-up “Step Through the Portal and Breathe” includes several grooved-out sections (including an extended bass solo) as the track vents the death metal-heat sinks to exude The Contortionist vibes. Then there’s penultimate track “The Obsidian Architect,” whose production crushing drops bring to mind acts like Humanity’s Last Breath, before offering some of Schaefer’s most melodic cleans and punk-y screams. They also throw on the vocoder for some especially alien spoken word-style bits.

Anyone familiar with Fallujah’s past works will ultimately find little of surprise here, but there’s something breathtaking about their approach on Xenotaph nonetheless—like watching a star collapse in horror before marveling at the painterly sight of the cosmic aftermath, colorful gases tracing esoteric frameworks against the deep-black of space. For my money, they’ve stayed a largely consistent act since The Flesh Prevails¹—no mean feat for any band, but especially one as technically-minded as Fallujah. Of course, there’s a capacity for sameness in progressive music that I think sometimes goes overlooked, and “consistent” can veer dangerously close to that. Xenotaph finds ways to keep things interesting—the heightened use (and more varied style) of cleans from Schaefer, along with some of the aforementioned flourishes populating several of the tracks. But by and large this is another Fallujah record; spacey, ferociously technical, whiplashing from moment to moment like a spacecraft caught between multiple gravitational pulls. If you like your songs to be identifiable, whether by riff or some semblance of easy-to-recognize structure, Xenotaph may struggle to meet your measure with its ever-shifting, mercurial forms. Also, the album can come across as fairly loud, bordering on wall of sound at times, though the mix is dynamic enough that nothing ever really gets drowned out.

There’s little Xenotaph will do to alienate fans, I think—unless for some reason you’ve become sick of metalcore vocals, but then I would argue Fallujah haven’t been the band for you since 2014. That said, I could see listeners sitting on both sides of the proverbial galactic fence: those who welcome the album’s consistency, happy to have more of a band they appreciate, and those who have perhaps grown a bit weary with the band’s direction. I fall more towards the former camp. A Fallujah record always feels like a pretty big deal to me, and Xenotaph is no exception. Though the album does little to tread any truly new sonic ground for the band, sometimes a journey needn’t be new to still be exciting. Fallujah have cultivated a strong identity for themselves, wreathed in atmospheres of celestial splendor and terrestrial violence alike. Maybe someday down the line, the adventure will wane, but that time hasn’t come yet. Xenotaph is a trip worth taking.

Recommended tracks: Step Through the Portal and Breathe, Xenotaph, Kaleidoscopic Waves, The Obsidian Architect
You may also like: Eccentric Pendulum, Cosmitorium, Cognizance, Irreversible Mechanism, Virvum, Freedom of Fear
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

Label: Nuclear Blast Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Fallujah is:
– Scott Carstairs (guitars)
– Evan Brewer (bass)
– Kyle Schaefer (vocals)
– Sam Mooradian (guitars)
With guests:
– Kevin Alexander La Palerma (drums)

1. A controversial opinion given the critical reception to Fallujah’s 2019 LP The Undying Light. ︎

The post Review: Fallujah – Xenotaph appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive death metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Fit For an Autopsy, Black Crown Initiate, Fallujah, Gojira
Country: Pennsylvania, United States
Release date: 30 May 2025

When Mastodon formed at the turn of the century, just as the dust from the Y2K non-apocalypse was settling, they had a revolutionary idea that drove the band’s first four albums. Themed around the classical elements of fire, water, earth, and air, Mastodon’s Remission, Leviathan, Blood Mountain, and Crack the Skye each defined tenets of modern metal that remain in place to this day. But when the time came for Mastodon to release their fifth album, the band found itself at an impasse, stuck between the monumental weight of their rise to success and the barrelling momentum of the conceptual opuses they had released. As a result, The Hunter feels stunted, and while it is still enjoyable, there’s no denying it’s a less inspired record than anything that came before it. 

After a few late-aughts deathcore-laden EPs that bore mere hints of their progressive tendencies to come, Rivers of Nihil chose to begin a conceptual album cycle of their own, themed around the four seasons. Spring came with The Conscious Seed of Light, and Monarchy reigned over the summer; Autumn brought the massively successful Where Owls Know My Name, the first album where the band’s progressive elements eclipsed the death metal elements. And finally came winter’s The Work, an album that may well have cost the band as many fans as it gained.

After lineup changes that inevitably altered the band’s core sound and following an album as divisive as The Work, Rivers of Nihil found themselves at an impasse. Like Mastodon before them, Rivers of Nihil’s conceptual cycle brought them acclaim, but also left them at a creative crossroads. With their backs seemingly against the wall, Rivers of Nihil boldly chose to release a self-titled album. So does Rivers of Nihil properly establish the band’s shiny, new identity? Let’s see.

Despite changes in the roster, Rivers of Nihil still sounds more or less like a Rivers of Nihil album; go figure. The band still plays their forward-thinking version of death metal replete with all of the bells and whistles that earn them the “progressive” moniker; along with the chuggy-as-ever riffage and ceaseless bits of synth/spacey guitar ambience that give the tracks their real melodic content, one can catch bits of electronic drum beats spliced in with the acoustic drums, layers of acoustic guitars and banjo, and of course the saxophone. Rivers of Nihil dramatically popularized the saxophone in death metal trend with Where Owls Know My Name, and they keep it up here, integrating sax into choruses on “The Sub-Orbital Blues,” employing it for transitional elements on “Despair Church,” or giving it outright solos on “House of Light.” The saxophone may be a gimmick, but it’s one the band has fully committed to, and it has become a genuine part of their sonic identity.

Rivers of Nihil has never been known to stay in one place for too long and has consistently evolved their sound across albums. There is no denying, however, that their evolutionary trend has steadily been arcing closer to the mainstream. Every track has a clean chorus, and while most flow smoothly, I can’t help but feel that the choruses in “Dustman” and “American Death” were shoehorned in to meet some sort of clean vocal quota and not because the tracks warranted a chorus. And “chorus” is certainly the right word as Rivers of Nihil abandons the unconventional structures that made their previous two albums so compelling, opting instead for more familiar verse-chorus patterns. This clear embracing of the mainstream in conjunction with a self-titled album almost makes me think that Rivers of Nihil saw the conflicted reception that came with the more progressive nature of The Work and chose to redefine themselves by moving in the opposite direction.

Rivers of Nihil remains a band primarily driven by its vocals, as chugs can only carry you so far; Adam Biggs and Andy Thomas have risen to the occasion. Biggs had performed backing vocals for the band since at least WOKMN, but really comes into his own on Rivers of Nihil. He’s expanded his repertoire beyond his signature blackened highs with a powerful and unhinged low end growl that calls to mind James Dorton or Frank Albanese of Hath, particularly on tracks like “Water & Time” or “Rivers of Nihil” where Biggs slips in and out of deep gutturals and a raw semi-clean bellow. Andy Thomas had already proven his vocal chops in his work with Black Crown Initiate, but his cleans on Rivers of Nihil may be his best outing yet. The choruses on “House of Light” and “Despair Church” especially are powerful anthems that I can’t help but sing along to.

Despite the career-defining performances on display from Biggs and Thomas during the sing-along choruses, I find myself reeling at the actual lyrical content when I stop singing and start reading. Overall, the lyrics are a lot more literal and topical than I tend to enjoy in my metal, and there are a few moments that dip into actual cringe. Don’t get me wrong. I agree that the partisan divide is an issue in America, but “Don’t believe a word you say / Do you think you’re better than me? / I’m Kaczynski, Capone and Kennedy / I’m the goddamn American dream // Who is right? / And what is left? / There’s only American death” is just too on the nose. Blessedly, the band chose to not include the single “Hellbirds” on the album, or I’d be lamenting lyrics about priests and pastors being “pricks that rape babies.” At times, Rivers comes off more like a left-wing Five Finger Death Punch, and the jury’s still out on the left-wing part.

There’s no denying that this is a new chapter for Rivers of Nihil; while the music still sounds like the band I know and love in most aspects, the new mainstream ethos of the band leaves the record feeling artistically hollow, despite how much I may enjoy singing along. Combined with the often cringy lyrics and occasional forced chorus, I fear that this shift in sound removes the dark and introspective aspects that I loved from previous albums. It’s a shame that Rivers of Nihil didn’t see the success that they may have hoped for with The Work, but I would have much preferred for this record to have been a refinement of that more progressive sound than a rejection of it.

Regardless, the message behind a self-titled album is clear: this is the shape of Rivers of Nihil to come, and I’m sure that the album will see the band climb to new heights of success. Still, I think of Mastodon, and I can only see this as Rivers of Nihil’s version of The Hunter, a valiant attempt at branching out after a conceptual album cycle but an album that ultimately pales in comparison to its predecessors. If this is truly to be Rivers of Nihil’s version of The Hunter, then I’ll be patiently waiting for a return to form a la Emperor of Sand.

Recommended tracks: Despair Church, Water & Time, House of Light
You may also like: new Warforged, Allegaeon, Subterranean Lava Dragon, Vermillion Dawn
Final verdict: 6/10

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

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

Rivers of Nihil is:
– Andy Thomas (guitars, vocals)
– Adam Biggs (bass, vocals)
– Jared Klein (drums)
– Brody Uttley (guitars)

The post Review: Rivers of Nihil – Rivers of Nihil appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by: George Nickels

Style: Deathcore, Blackened Deathcore (Mixed vocals, mostly harsh)
Recommended for fans of: Lorna Shore, Shadow of Intent, Whitechapel, Distant, Angelmaker
Country: North Carolina, United States
Release date: 9 May 2025

A surefire way to catch my attention is with an overwrought song title. Though bands like Alexisonfire have graced me with such gems as “Water Wings (& Other Poolside Fashion Faux Pas)” and “It Was Fear Of Myself That Made Me Odd,” it is often within the dim and slimeridden kingdoms of metal’s extremes where the shiniest treasures await. Offerings like “A Kingdom Built Upon the Wreckage of Heaven” (Outergods); or, to pluck a more “mainstream” example, Nile’s 2024 head-turner, “Chapter For Not Being Hung Upside Down on a Stake in the Underworld and Made to Eat Feces by the Four Apes.” Yes, really. Before I run up any more of this word count limit, let me get to the stake, er, point.

This peculiar affliction of mine found me ensnared by North Carolina deathcore outfit Sold Soul and their 2022 sophomore LP, I Hope We Make It Out of This Alive; specifically, their song “Something’s Breathing in the Hallway, I Live Alone.” The spine-tingling track title, coupled with the Edward Gorey-esque album art, beset my mind with scenes of a bristling nightmare desecrating the idea of home as a safe haven. To my delight, the music begot doom-ridden and Gothic intentions. Crushing riffwork and howling leads backboned by foundation-rattling drums and foreboding atmosphere, with mainman Stevie O’Shaughnessy’s tortured roars and baroque cleans digging into this twisted firmament like a last grasp at sanity. Bespoke violin creeping across the tracklist like an icy shiver down the spine. Their style of deathcore is more deliberate than contemporaries like Lorna Shore, Shadow of Intent, To The Grave, etc.; more stalking nightmare than relentless assault.

Now, having in fact made it out alive after a three-year silence, Sold Soul return with third full-length, Just Like That, I Disappear Entirely. With cover art evoking Where’s Waldo shot through the prism of Hell, I have one question: Will Sold Soul’s return stand out, or is it destined to fade into the crowd, faceless and forgotten?

Sold Soul waste no time re-establishing their haunted-house vibes on “As Whisper, or As a Bellow,” with a menacing guitar line stretched across thundering double-bass kicks and O’Shaughnessy’s razored growls. There’s familiarity in the way the track moves from staggered lurching to headlong chase, the creeping tension melting away in the face of a full-on death metal assault before returning to a mid-paced hunt, complete with animalistic snarling and inhuman shrieks. O’Shaughnessy breaks out the cleans towards the end, pitched low and steeped in Draculian grandeur. As the album’s second-longest cut, “As Whisper, or As a Bellow” sets the tone well for what’s to come.

“For I Can Endure No Longer” sees a greater balance of clean and harsh vocals, crafting an operatic melancholia which pairs nicely against the bladed surge of the guitars. Follow-up “To Spit Contempt on the Tail of Every Uttered Word” veers into cartoonish deathcore waters with an extended run of barking, but manages to right the sails with a grooving bass section, jazzy drumming, and ethereal vocals by guest Kukielle. There’s a surprisingly Ithaca-adjacent taste to “Howl,” with its white-noise riffage and lock-step drum rolls, bringing measures of metallic hardcore to Sold Soul’s benighted feast table. I can almost hear Djamila Azzouz’s flensing shrieks toasting the event. The band even whip up a sadboi ballad in “Although I May Love You, I Must Leave You Here Alone,” a vibes-heavy cut which foregoes all heft and lets O’Shaughnessy flex his melodious pipes in all their melodramatic glory.

Deathcore is a genre of absolute extremes: big, bombastic, and excessive, with vocalists performing what amounts to the demonic version of pop singer vocal acrobatics—regardless of necessity. Sold Soul, refreshingly, understand that “excess” does not always equal “success.” O’Shaughnessy drives his roars down the middle lane, with only a few snarls and screeches peppered in for taste. His aforementioned cleans are perhaps the most dramatic weapon in his arsenal, and in another context they could be considered over-much; he has a tendency to lean into Gothic drama with his delivery, dipping low and soaring strong. However, by layering them against similarly rich and melodramatic music, the band manage to create a harmonious pairing where each element supports the other.

Sold Soul also refrain from the genre’s often cookie-cutter template, where every song becomes an exercise in executing a mammoth breakdown. They have their own formulas to watch out for (opening multiple tracks with creeping guitar lines along a mid-tempo plod), but by and large Sold Soul’s approach to deathcore feels delightfully reserved and atmospheric by comparison, more interested in crafting actual songs structured around varying (dour) moods, as opposed to simple vehicles for brutality and vocal gymnastics.

Yet, for all the enjoyment I’ve had with Just Like That, I Disappear Entirely, it is not without fault. “That Stranger in the Red Suit, and the Many Things He Promised Me,” derails the album’s doom-drenched vibes with a goofy “band members talking and joking” moment in its closing seconds. Penultimate track “I’ve Forever Yearned for an Angel of Mercy and Warmth to Sing Out My Name and Rend Me from My Earthly Sorrows; Yet Throughout All the Years of Idle Longing, I’ve Only Ever Heard a Profound and Crushing Silence” attempts to patch up the holes in the ozone by reinforcing the morose tones and predatory aggression of which the album had drawn its strengths, but never quite recovers from this point forward. Closer “When You Finally Realize How Small You Really Are” amounts to little more than nine minutes of atmosphere. It’s pensive, sure, flaunting some The Thing-esque “bum-bums,” but fails to do anything interesting with its runtime. The last three tracks are bonus cuts and feel disappointingly tacked-on, especially originals “Child of Night” and (second) interlude “I Am So Unbelievably Unhappy,” which may have served better had they been folded elsewhere within the album’s tracklisting. As is, this decision leaves the tail end of the album’s sixty minutes struggling to reclaim its mojo.

If prior entries in the Sold Soul pantheon enticed you, then Just Like That, I Disappear Entirely will undoubtedly keep you in the fold. The band have hardly strayed from their formula here, yet there’s enough iteration to keep things from sounding like a rehash of I Hope We Make It Out of This Alive (beyond the distinct lack of featured contributors).¹ If deathcore’s excesses have turned you away in the past, there’s a possibility Sold Soul’s more deliberate and mood-focused approach may create an exception, possibly even an inroad. Though I can’t answer my earlier question—will Just Like That, I Disappear Entirely fade or stay in memory?—I can say that I’ve largely enjoyed my time with the record. And since the future is never a guarantee, it makes moments like this feel like a win.

Recommended tracks: To Spit Contempt on the Tail of Every Uttered Word, A Lament for an Abandoned Heaven and All Us Who Lay Beneath, Howl, Child of Night
You may also like: Paganizer, Into The Silo, Cognitive, Face Yourself, Zeolite, Euclid
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Crestfallen Records – Facebook | Official Website

Sold Soul is:
– Stevie O’Shaughnessy (vocals, songwriting)
– Abiayup (songwriting, mixing)
With guests:
– Kukielle (additional vocals)
– Josh Null (additional drum compositions)

1. I Hope We Make It Out of This Alive is stacked with features: Stu Block (Into Eternity, Iced Earth), Brittany Slayes (Unleash the Archers), Chris Wiseman (Currents, Shadow of Intent), Matt Perrin (Angelmaker) ︎

The post Review: Sold Soul – Just Like That, I Disappear Entirely appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Label: Willowtip Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Artwork by: Rachel Demetz

Style: Alternative Metal, Death Metal, Progressive Metal (Mixed Vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Arch Enemy, Jinjer, The Agonist, Ad Infinitum
Country: Spain
Release date: 25 April 2025

Anlage. Merriam-Webster defines it as “the foundation of a subsequent development.” It is a beginning, a description upheld and embodied by Spain’s femme-fatale metallic quartet, Indar, who more poetically outline it as an “essence, the first sprout that emerges from a sown seed.” Formed in 2020 in Barcelona, Indar have been nurturing this particular seed for five years; their first single, “Rotten Roots,” emerged in October 2023, with the fifth (and final), “Oxyde” arriving November 2024. Five months on and debut album Anlage has burst from the soil, in search of the nourishing light above.

Speaking of plants, I’m reminded of the 1989 Toho feature, Godzilla vs Biollante. In it, Godzilla’s cells are used to create a hybrid of plant and human when a scientist attempts to immortalize his dead daughter’s soul. After its initial “birth” where it attacks a team of saboteurs, Biollante flees into Lake Ashi and transforms into a mammoth rose-like entity. Later, it evolves again, its form taking on some of the dinosaur-like aspects of Godzilla—mirroring yet expanding upon its genetic inspiration, one could say.

Likewise, Indar’s breed of alternative metal finds their roots grasping at several possible influences: from vocalist Sara Parra’s venomous rasps bearing marks of Angela Gossow (ex-Arch Enemy), Defacing God-esque blackened melodeath rumblings (“Swallow,” “Oxyde,” “Udol,” “Nostalgia”), the echoes of gothic doom à la a rocked-out Red Moon Architect (“Rotten Roots”), to the Stolen Babies vibes lurking within “Prey” and “Goodbye Ground.” Parra’s cleans often hit with a clarity and power not unlike Nina Saeidi (Lowen), and the progressive-doom sprinkled throughout had me drawing frequent comparisons to her band.

Though their core sound never strays far from familiar, Indar are hardly imitation. Guitarist Karmen Muerza, for example, prefers rock-flavored riffing and black metal tremolos as opposed to, say, Michael Ammott’s (Arch Enemy) neoclassical pyrotechnics and anthemic death-dealing. She tends to fold her guitar into the general flow of songs, reinforcing as opposed to informing the direction of the music. Occasionally, she breaks out to impart some goth-doom flourish that wouldn’t feel out of place on a Draconian record (“Oxyde,” “Udol,” “Nostalgia”). The rest of the band follows similarly, with drummer Nana Nakanishi and bassist Marta Coscujuela providing a solid foundation for their compatriots to maneuver alongside. The result feels like a real team effort, every element cooperating to deliver on Indar’s moody, doomy, death-orbiting prog’n’roll—which, like the aforementioned Biollante, could hardly be mistaken for any of their perceived inspirations.

Where Indar struggle is with the very concept of anlage itself. Starting with the eponymous track (and opener), we are treated to the ever-popular dramatic synth instrumental. Expecting a segue into “Swallow” to really kick things off, I was surprised when all that drama simply… fizzled out into silence, leaving “Swallow” to start over and rendering “Anlage” meaningless. Worse, the two subsequent tracks (“Rotten Roots” and “Prey”) adhere to the same playbook, each building up before unfurling into the song-proper. This leaves Anlage’s front half kinetically inert. And while the individual tracks are entertaining in isolation, this interchangeability left me with a disappointing sense of arrested development. It’s not until “Goodbye Ground” that we get some momentum within the tracklisting, and by then Anlage has hit its midpoint. I’m not saying every track needs to jump headfirst into the waters, but in this case I think a little variety in the format would go a long way towards cultivating a more engaging album journey.

Fortunately, Anlage’s second act leads us to some of the group’s strongest offerings. “Oxyde” is an ear-perker, with Parra’s razored screams and breathy cleans cutting deliciously against the song’s gothic vibes. Follow-up “Udol” conjures occult bonfires blazing against the velvet skein of deep night with its ethereal vocal lines and at turns hammering-and-haunting melodeath—to say nothing of the earworm chorus and ascendant ritualism of “Nostalgia.” But closer “Thalassophobia” is where the band fully blooms into what feels like their final form, bursting from the sod with palpable energy and a lust for long-form life as they wend through nearly nine minutes of vivid melodeath, smoky doom passages, a hefty breakdown, and ethereal prog-death bass runs that wouldn’t feel out of place on Absolute Elsewhere-era Blood Incantation. Parra pulls from her entire repertoire, delivering vicious snarls and gorgeously resonant harmonies before the song hits a final trench run of kicked-up sonics and aggression.

Indar are clearly competent songwriters, and when they decide to cut loose it can lead to a lot of fun. However, the indecisive start-stop-start of Anlage’s opening act feels like a band uncertain of their own development. The comfort here is that Anlage itself is only a beginning: with their roots established, it will be interesting to see how Indar mature from here.

Recommended tracks: Oxyde, Udol, Nostalgia, Thalassophobia
You may also like: Eccentric Pendulum, Crystal Coffin, Guhts
Final verdict: 6.5/10

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

Label: LaRubiaProducciones – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Indar is:
– Sara Parra (vocals)
– Karmen Muerza (guitars)
– Marta Coscujuela (bass)
– Nana Nakanishi (drums)

The post Review: Indar – Anlage appeared first on The Progressive Subway.