Style: alternative rock, progressive metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Anathema, Soen, Opeth, Porcupine Tree
Country: Sweden
Release date: 6 June 2025

Few metal bands have a body of work and influence quite like Katatonia. Over more than thirty years, the group has released thirteen studio albums and spawned about a thousand bands inspired by the moody, alternative brand of metal they’re renowned for. At the Subway, Katatonia is one of the bands most often listed in the “for fans of” section of our reviews, their name alone exuding a distinct type of dark melodicism. And say what you will about any individual release, but the band’s discography is legendary—moving from death/doom to gothic to varying shades of prog-tinged alternative with a nearly unmatched level of finesse and consistency.

Nightmares as Extensions of the Waking State comes months after a somewhat messy split with guitarist and co-founder Anders Nyström. Still, vocalist and co-founder Jonas Renkse wrote the band’s last two albums on his own and has done so again here, setting this one up to be business as usual. Some may bemoan this: following 2016’s phenomenal The Fall of Hearts, Katatonia’s past two albums were received largely as competent but not particularly inspired. And Renkse himself recently expressed some discontent with being the group’s sole songwriter, lamenting that it’s “sometimes very lonely; I would love the bouncing back and forth of ideas.” But any new Katatonia release is a welcome occasion, offering another opportunity to get lost in the somber and austere—yet strikingly lush—atmosphere the band has mastered. With Nightmares as Extensions of the Waking State, does Renkse find inspiration in isolation?

True to form, Nightmares holds plenty of engrossing synth textures, a groovy undercurrent of slightly off-kilter rhythms, and the gracefully restrained but emotive vocal performance we’ve come to expect of Renkse. Opener “Thrice” showcases Katatonia’s signature qualities at their most compelling, fitting a winding composition into a dynamic four and a half minutes that builds momentum and keeps intrigue throughout. Being perhaps the heaviest and most progressive song on the record, “Thrice” kicks things off on a bold note before the album settles into a sustained, more subdued flow. To be sure, the album’s intensity swells on occasion along the way. The brooding “Winds of no Change” features big, choral chants not previously as potent in the band’s music, and “The Light Which I Bleed” boasts a massive, strings-laden outro that plays on an earlier motif—it stands as the album’s high-water mark, though it fades out far too quickly. These aren’t the only energetic passages—the ripping solo in “Temporal” warrants a shout—but for the most part, Nightmares is gloomy and relatively lethargic.

Gloom and lethargy aren’t exactly negative descriptors when it comes to Katatonia, each playing an important part in the band’s sound. “Lilac” wields them beautifully, especially in the heavenly couple of minutes that close the track, where floating synths and haunting vocals accent a passage gently pushed forward by poignant guitars and restrained yet intricate drumming. However, the rest of Nightmares isn’t as successful in this vein; its tracks generally plod along without much variety or conviction. “Efter Solen” (“After the Sun”) at least offers something new, an understated cut sung in Swedish and grounded in soft electronica, but it’s notable more for these features than its impact. Ultimately, outside of the few parts outlined, I’d be hard pressed to pinpoint any exciting songwriting. In fact, I’d have a hard time recalling any other specific moments. The album sits in the ears pleasantly, though unremarkably. 

In Nightmares, you can hear Renkse’s apparent desire for a less isolated songwriting experience—it’s easy to imagine collaborators invigorating the compositional ideas, and especially giving wings to the album’s strongest sections. A few more layers to the back half of “Efter Solen” could have made it a standout; the motif and outro in “The Light Which I Bleed” could have been built upon and modulated to exceptional effect; and more of the delightfully detailed but accessible passages like those in “Thrice” and “Lilac” might have taken form. Alas, the album continues the band’s trend further away from engaging and resonant and closer to simply passable. Katatonia remain masters of creating a distinct, compelling atmosphere, but the once-sharp songwriting is dulling. 

Hopefully, Nightmares as Extensions of the Waking State is the closing of one chapter for the band, and the next is one of revitalization. Although the album is enjoyable, laying a few surprises and moments of inspiration atop Katatonia’s recognizable style, the need for a creative spark is clear. As with the two releases before it, too much of the album simply passes through the mind without leaving an impression—a shame for a band capable of delivering far more. Fortunately, Renkse has shifted the band’s sound several times before to great success, so it’s easy to remain optimistic that Katatonia’s next effort will have more staying power.

Recommended tracks: Thrice, Winds of no Change, Lilac, The Light Which I Bleed
You may also like: In the Silence, Oak, Ghost Brigade
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Napalm Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Katatonia is:
– Jonas Renkse (vocals)
– Niklas Sandin (bass)
– Daniel Moilanen (drums)
– Nico Elgstrand (guitars)
– Sebastian Svalland (guitars)

The post Review: Katatonia – Nightmares as Extensions of the Waking State appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Post-rock, post-metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Pelican, Tool, Vulkan, Oceansize
Country: Belgium
Release date: 23 April 2025

Growing up with autism, my relationship with the concepts of solitude and authenticity was perhaps unusual. Over the years, many people have commented positively on my authenticity in spite of the social pressure for conformity. Little did they know, however, that a large amount of that perceived authenticity stemmed from sheer social ineptitude—after all, one can’t conform to rules they are unaware of or neurologically incapable of adhering to in the first place. Similarly, the frequent periods of prolonged social isolation I have gone through have seldom been voluntary. Belgian post-metal band Capitan’s second album, Facing Currents, explores the emotional struggle of discovering one’s true identity through prolonged solitude and trying not to lose that identity when reconnecting with others. My autism has forced me to undergo this process many times, maybe even to the point of trauma¹, so while I do not relate to the voluntary aspect, I did find myself moved by the concept. 

Post-metal can be a fairly homogenous genre with many bands playing some shade of Neurosis and/or Cult of Luna worship: long build ups with increasingly sludgy riffs building in complexity with tribal drumming building to an eventual cacophonous crescendo—that’s the name of the game. Capitan are primarily rooted in melodic post-rock, but regularly get heavy and incorporate tribal percussion in line with the post-metal tradition. They also integrate psychedelic elements and some proggy transitions redolent of Tool. This leads to a familiar, yet fresh overall sound in a similar ballpark to the seldom-replicated Oceansize². Further brought to life by a vivid, crystal-clear production, Facing Currents is a very immediate album. Björn Nauwelaerts has an uncharacteristically powerful voice for post-rock, and his bright tone and melancholic melodies give the songs on Facing Currents a lot of memorable moments en route to the big finish. He can also belt with the best of the best of them, giving a lot of meat to the heavier moments; most post-metal bands would place harsh vocals there but with Nauwelaerts’ performance I didn’t even miss them!

Capitan’s lyrics are poetic not in structure but certainly in how they evoke mood and emotion, immersing you in the emotional state of the protagonist as they go through the process of self-rediscovery. Water, breath, and light are used as recurring symbols to express emotional overwhelm, suffocation, loss of identity, and healing. The story of Facing Currents is not so much about the events as they are about the emotions corresponding to them: from drowning in the feelings of isolation (“Immerse”), to feeling suffocated by daily life (“Choke”) and unfulfilling relationships (“Apnea”), to the confusion and fear of an identity crisis (“Facing Currents”), to eventual healing (“A Pale Blue Light”) and refinding one’s footing in the world (“The Ascent”). The lyrics are raw and expressive, capturing the protagonist’s emotional journey with striking vulnerability. Facing Currents doesn’t even necessarily read like finding new facets of your personality; its real beauty lies in accepting and finding solace in what is already there.

Clocking in at thirty-eight minutes spread across six tracks (plus the intro), Facing Currents is refreshingly concise for a sprawling genre like post-metal. The first half is paced effectively, with each track having its own unique identity and momentum: “Immerse, Pt. I & II” are built on hypnotic tribal grooves and psychedelia-tinged guitarwork, leaning heavily on the Neurosis and Tool influences, whereas “Apnea” is a more conventional post-rock/metal hybrid track, starting with a spoken word piece and somber vocals before gradually lifting up our emotions with ethereal strumming to prepare you for the thundering, heavy grooves of the song’s second half. “Choke” keeps up the momentum as the most immediately aggressive track on the album, recalling Cult of Luna in its double crescendo structure. The second half of Facing Currents, however, starts to show Capitan’s limitations. Every remaining song starts with a long, ethereal post-rock section that becomes increasingly indistinct as the album goes on. “Facing Currents” and “A Pale Blue Light” erupt into distortion at nearly identical points in the song, and “The Ascent” only differentiates itself by keeping the floatiness for a guitar solo crescendo instead of yet another heavy climax.

This strict adherence to traditional post- song structures ends up making Capitan sound surprisingly conventional despite their distinctive palette, causing the songs to become increasingly predictable as the album goes on—a slow, clean buildup into a heavier, emotionally charged climax works only so many times before it gets stale. That is not to say the second half of Facing Currents is without stand-out moments, though. The repeating vocal motif in the title track is deeply moving, and the crushing doom riffs of “A Pale Blue Light” are a welcome change in intensity. Björn Nauwelaerts also consistently stands out for his expressive delivery, even if his melodies become a bit predictable near the end. Another point of critique is that the crescendos on Facing Currents often end up being underwhelming. Take “Apnea”, for instance, whose guitar solo and eventual doomy outro do the minimum of what is required to make them work but nothing more; or “Choke”, whose second crescendo merely repeats the pounding rhythm of the first one with no variation or development. Similarly, the guitar solo in “The Ascent” has a beautiful narrative structure but is barebones in execution and finishes the album with a disappointing fadeout. I usually found myself more compelled by the journey along the way, thanks to Capitan’s unique mix of styles, rather than the big finish.

On Facing Currents, Capitan have made a refreshing niche for themselves. They blend genres in a natural way with sophistication to evoke an ethereal yet earthy sound with powerful, melancholic melodies and rich atmospheres. But for all its sonic variety, the album often plays things structurally safe, leaning too heavily on predictable builds and familiar post-metal formulas. Still, the foundation is strong—Capitan are never anything less than competent, and they deliver some magic on a few occasions. If they can find a way to support their unique voice with more daring songwriting, they might well become one of the most exciting groups in the genre. But such is the road to self-actualization: there is always room to grow.

Recommended tracks: Immerse Pt. II, A Pale Blue Light
You may also like: Riviẽre, Múr, Mother of Millions, Sgàile
Final verdict: 6.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Independent

Capitan is:
– Björn Nauwelaerts (vocals, keyboards)
– Kevin Brondel (lead guitar)
– Rafaël Clavie (rhythm guitar)
– Jonathan Lievrouw (bass)
– Nick Boonen (drums)

1.  The Thought Spot made a great video linking autism to repeated ego death. ︎
2.  Seriously, where are the Oceansize imitators at? I need mooooooore. ︎

The post Review: Capitan – Facing Currents appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Art Rock, Alternative Rock, Experimental Rock (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Gogol Bordello, The Darkness, Scissor Sisters
Country: Ohio, United States
Release date: 20 March 2025

Fans of heavy, off-kilter, piano-driven rock in the mid aughts needed to look no further than Foxy Shazam to satisfy their cravings. The band exploded onto the scene with a pair of infectious progressive post-hardcore-inspired albums before polishing their sound and breaking into the mainstream with 2010’s arena rock anthem “Unstoppable”: heard in movies and on TV and licensed in some capacity by nearly every major professional sports league in the United States. But the band’s fifth album, Gonzo, marked a drastic change of sound, trading the energy and glam of their earlier work for a mellower flavour of alternative rock. Reception seemed less than stellar – Foxy Shazam released Gonzo for free, cut their promotional tour short, and went on hiatus shortly thereafter.

Since returning in 2020, the band have put out a handful of forgettable albums; their heavy, progressive roots seemed all but shriveled and dead. But in late January of this year, Foxy released the first single from their new album, Animality Opera, “Rhumbatorium”. And let me tell you, dear reader, that irreverent, energetic, experimental single provided a glimmer of hope.  Was it a return to form? Had the erratic, in-your-face Foxy Shazam of days gone by finally returned?

Nope.

The title, Animality Opera, must be purposefully ironic because this latest work is neither operatic nor animalistic. “Pink Sky”, the second single from the album, is reminiscent of their Gonzo era: milquetoast alternative rock that sounds like it was written specifically to be played in grocery stores, save for a spoken word outro featuring sophomoric, nonsensical lines like “nobody wants to be the rock inside of the clown’s sock”. Foxy have done the spoken word shtick before, but it is noticeably more prominent (and irritating) on this latest release. “Karaoke Pain” is a perfect example of the stylistic rut Foxy have found themselves in for the past decade; the pre-chorus begins with the lyrics “this is the part where we can lose control, the place where we can just let that shit go” and leads into… nothing. No soaring vocals, no wild guitar solo, not even a piano slide or a drum fill. Instead, just a sparse, phoned-in vocal performance. Twice we are teased with the possibility of actually losing control and twice we are let down. Fool me once…

Moments of inspired songwriting exist in Animality Opera, but they are few and far between. The piano-driven ballad “Uncreated” is a highlight in this sense: it builds slowly, adding tastefully muted guitar, strings, and horns, building repeatedly to a moderate vocal climax. The lyrics are equal parts truly beautiful (“Take it all away, you can see on forever. Silhouettes of the days we shared hold me together.”) and goofy (“Even in the Starbucks bathroom, this will never change.”). “Uncreated” is a microcosm of the softer side of Foxy Shazam; and is thankfully free of the ill-conceived spoken word sections which mar many of the tracks on this album.

But “Rhumbatorium” is the standout track on Animality. It’s dynamic, energetic, and catchy; but mainly it’s just plain fun. Foxy have been taking themselves too seriously and it’s nice to see them let loose again. Lyrically, “Rhumbatorium” gets straight to the point: “All music is shit and the world is a toilet bowl. Sit down on the throne and push out some rock and roll.” It’s hard to tell if Foxy are having a go at the rest of the music industry or are just being defensive here. The next line is “I don’t know, I just don’t get it. Well then it’s not for you.” More than one track on Animality seems to take aim at the naysayers: earlier on the album “You Don’t Judge The Birds” asks “Why are they so mean? What did I do wrong? … You don’t judge the birds for singing in the morning.” That’s true, but the birds aren’t charging thirty bucks per performance.

Animality is otherwise mostly devoid of the raw energy that characterized Foxy‘s early career and the operatic bombast that came after. “Joseph” and “Dragonfly Chase” would be impressive if they were written by your roommate’s band, but they’re just not up to the (admittedly high) bar Foxy set for themselves with their earlier releases. They push no boundaries. They take no risks. “Jack Tar” is reminiscent of—but less polished than—Arctic Monkeys‘ Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino… and just when you thought you’d gotten away from them, those damned spoken word sections return. They add nothing. They detract from whatever energy these songs are trying to build.

By and large, Animality Opera feels phoned in. Following four other unremarkable albums over the past decade, Foxy seem to be doing everything they can to avoid repeating the success they had in 2010. Is it artistic bankruptcy? Is it laziness? Is it an extended performance art piece where the band are trying to see how many aggressively mediocre albums they can put out in a row while still maintaining some semblance of a fan base? Who’s to say. All I know is that heavy metal sucks and Foxy Shazam’s dead.

R.I.P.

Recommended tracks: Rhumbatorium, Uncreated
You may also like: Jellyfish, The Venetia Fair
Final verdict: 3.5/10

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

Label: EEEOOOAH – Facebook

Foxy Shazam is:
– Eric Nally (vocals)
– Schuyler “Sky” White (keyboards)
– Alex Nauth (horns, backing vocals)
– Teddy Aitkins (drums)
– Existential Youth (formerly known as Trigger Warning and The Persistent Savage) (bass guitar)
– Devin Williams (guitar)

The post Review: Foxy Shazam – Animality Opera appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Alternative rock, progressive rock (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Soundgarden, Stone Temple Pilots, Fair to Midland
Country: International
Release date: 21 March 2025

Two firehoses stand before two doors. One firehose only tells the truth, and the other only tells lies. Unsure of what to ask of the sentient extinguishers to move forward, you try to hear what’s going on behind each door, only to notice that the way to the right… seems to be playing Chris Cornell? Curious, you opt to go through the right door. You step through the darkened postern and—bam! Falling down a trapdoor, you find at the bottom that it’s not Soundgarden who is playing, but none other than international alt-rockers O.R.k. showcasing tunes from their latest LP, Firehose of Falsehoods. Fooled yet again by the hoses! Wring out your clothes and let’s discuss.

O.R.k. most readily express their brand of alternative rock through dynamics, utilizing heavy and funky riffage in their choruses while opting for subdued and spacious verses. Much of Firehose of Falsehoods‘ sound is deeply entrenched in 90s alt rock songwriting and melodic sensibilities, laying down grooves that wouldn’t be out of place on Soundgarden’s Superunknown or Stone Temple Pilots’ Tiny Music… Songs From the Vatican Gift Shop. In many places, vocalist Lorenzo Fornasari even sounds like Chris Cornell in his gravelly and forceful delivery. More progressive tracks like “Dive In” and “Mask Becomes the Face” eschew a verse/chorus approach for free-flowing song structures that prefer to slowly build in intensity instead of switching the ‘high-energy’ hose valve on and off. “16000 Days” even features a quietly picked guitar that swirls around notes not dissimilar to contemporary math rock.

From its first moments, the most immediate standout on Firehose of Falsehoods is Lorenzo Fornasari’s vocals. On opener “Blast of Silence”, his voice ranges from restrained and quiet in the verses to powerful and gritty during the chorus. “Mask Becomes the Face” also features many compelling vocal lines, with defeated callouts of ‘I might have been invisible the whole time’, complete with soulful vocal riffing that soars into the stratosphere by its end. Many of Firehose of Falsehoods’ best moments are led by Fornasari’s commanding vocal performance, punctuating tracks with his emphatic delivery. However, when Fornasari steps out of his Cornellisms, the results are more mixed. “Hello Mother” features powerful and roaring vocals as he screams ‘I AM NOT COMING HOME!’ during the track’s most intense moment, but the enunciation and timbre during the verses are strange and feel kind of mushy, coming across as uncaring and slurred. “16000 Days” suffers from this same problem, with poorly enunciated vocals sitting on top of less than compelling instrumentation, dashing the momentum that could have been built going into its otherwise cinematic chorus. While Fornasari’s delivery is likely an intentional lean into the ironic detachment that painted much of the 90s’ rock sensibilities, the end result generally falls flat on Firehose of Falsehoods.

The instrumentals are wont to fall into the same pattern as the vocals: while most every track has a few enjoyable moments, a collection of enjoyable ideas does not a good song make. Firehose of Falsehoods suffers overall from a lack of punch: despite the generous dynamics in songwriting, the more bullish moments fail to really soar, and the more understated moments often lack interest, in most cases leaving me waiting for the chorus before I tune back in. Even in the presence of fun grooves on “Blast of Silence” and “The Other Side” and the cinematic splashes of “PUTFP” and “16000 Days”, a certain X-factor is missing that prevents O.R.k. from sticking the dismount—unable to break through ‘enjoyability’ into something truly compelling. Ironically enough, the longest track, “Dive in”, does the best job of supporting its song structure by introducing a slow build into driving drum work, Tool-esque melodies, and lively staccato guitars. With some extra dynamic range in the mastering, its climaxes would hit considerably harder, but the track itself shows promise in its songwriting approach.

While I undoubtedly appreciate the Soundgarden-flavored inspiration on Firehose of Falsehoods, the record as a whole leaves me wanting throughout: the vocals are sometimes excellent, the instrumentation is sometimes fun and groovy, but few songs are able to hold themselves together and maintain interest for their entire runtime. Additionally, though the use of dynamics is appreciated, more work is needed to establish cohesion between Firehose of Falsehoods’ louder and quieter moments. The firehose was, indeed, filled with falsehoods instead of water, and now the burning house is doomed.

Recommended tracks: Blast of Silence, Dive In, Hello Mother
You may also like: Fen, Orion, Mile Marker Zero, Advent Horizon
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: KScope Music – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

O.R.k. is:
– Lorenzo Fornasari (vocals, keyboards)
– Carmelo Pipitone (guitars)
– Colin Edwin (bass)
– Pat Mastelotto (drums)

The post Review: O.R.k. – Firehose of Falsehoods appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Art by Chase Stone

Style: Progressive Rock, Alternative Rock (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: The Dear Hunter, Closure in Moscow
Country: United States – New York
Release date: 14 March 2025

If you can indulge in a bit of a trip in a time machine, imagine me in 2005, all of eleven years old, having a few months prior been given a copy of an album from a year previous called “In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3” by a friend. I’ve heard there’s going to be a new album by this band Coheed and Cambria I’ve only just got into, and I want it desperately. Unfortunately, it has that pesky RIAA Parental sticker on it, and at the time, the local FYE wouldn’t sell it to me. Luckily, an older boy I knew was perfectly willing to buy it for me for an extra $5, so I caved and had them do it. Almost twenty years later Good Apollo I’m Burning Star IV: Volume I: From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness is still my favorite album, and Coheed and Cambria has been my favorite band nearly as long. So for me, nothing is ever as anticipated as a new Coheed release.

Across Coheed’s long career, this focus of the sound is vocalist Claudio Sanchez, who delivers high-voiced earworm melodies over their post-hardcore/emo rock origins. Earlier albums in their career took these ideas and stretched them into progressive behemoths, but in the modern era, Coheed has tended to put more emphasis on streamlined song structure and further focus on chorus hooks. Many people also know that Coheed’s records are backed by a concept, and The Father of Make Believe is the third installment of their current pentology story arc, preceded by Vaxis I and Vaxis II (actual titles truncated for brevity). For the sake of this review, I’m not going to dive much into anything overly concept related (although I could talk forever about it) albeit to say concept fans are going to have lots to love in certain head nods and callbacks to certain past albums. Musically Father immediately improves on its Vaxis predecessors: where Vaxis I suffered a bit from an over reliance on “chorus once more” (or twice more) causing bloat and over repetition, Father remembers to streamline its songs when necessary. Where Vaxis II perhaps fell back too much on the radio-rock and pop feel, causing some sameness, Father is able to tread much different ground throughout its runtime (more on this later), while still succeeding in having that pop-esque quality that has always sat inside Coheed. Where both albums leaned heavily into more synth layers and synth leading, Father is much more guitar driven both in structure and in melodies.

With a now years-long discussion on what genre or type of band Coheed is at this point, Father comes at an interesting time. Since Vaxis I there’s been commentary that some miss the “progressive” elements of Coheed, seemingly stripped away in favor of going for a more pop-oriented sound or delivery. This tends to be vocalised through fixation on song structure, riffs, time signatures, or song length as a measurement for the progressive element of this or any band. No, The Father of Make Believe doesn’t have multiple seven minute songs (it has none!); no, it doesn’t have complete side track sections in songs like “21:13” or the “Willing Wells” do. What it does have is that Coheed DNA that has been there since the inception, which is the ability to dabble in virtually any sound and feel cohesive, to create hooks and melodies at any point in a song, and to create the urge to sing whatever words come out of Claudio’s mouth. The progressive aspect for Coheed tends to be, and really is on Father, that aforementioned ability to go anywhere song to song and not lose the plot.

From “Goodbye, Sunshine” and “Searching for Tomorrow” feeling like Good Apollo Volume I songs with more modern ‘heed production, to “Blind Eye Sonny”’s almost harsh vocal delivery on top of a 2 minute blazing punk pace shoving you into “Play the Poet” — a song which sounds like a Year of the Black Rainbow cousin with its slight industrial feel — and ultimately with “The Continuum IV”’s almost Electric Light Orchestra or Beatles feel, Father treads very disparate ground in its songs but again, feels like it all belongs together. This is a trend seen in Coheed’s discography as a whole: The sounds of Second Stage are different from the sounds on IKSoSE:3, Good Apollo Volume I is different yet again; the trend continues in perpetuity throughout the band’s life. But in the end, Coheed have always benefited most from Claudio’s sense of melody and hook writing. I’ve always personally held a belief that Good Apollo IV Volume I is really a pop-esque album hidden behind a guitar-driven metal or prog rock adjacent delivery (like really, for all the “song structure” people, go look at GAIV song structures outside of the “Willing Wells”, it’s pop), and to me The Father of Make Believe at many times is a modern presentation of the same.

Do I still have some reservations? Sure, I think I still haven’t quite got on to the Cervini production style train; I still feel the drums are a bit squashed and neutered in post for my taste (though the performance, as always is chef’s kiss). It does have a bit of a weak point around “Meri of Mercy” where it briefly falls a little into the more recent Coheed ballad tropes. I do wonder if it gets a bit over arranged at times; and yeah, I wouldn’t mind even more riffs. But I do know this is the most obsessed I’ve personally been with a Coheed record on release since The Afterman series dropped, and I don’t see me dropping it any time soon. One last layer to all this: The Father of Make Believe does seem at times to lyrically hint to the idea of a post Coheed, or at least post-Amory Wars Coheed time. As time has gone on, the veil separating Claudio’s personal life from the story has thinned and grown more transparent, and now Claudio seems to examine in the lyrics the ideas of being seen as the creator of some large universe of story when you are really trying to let yourself be seen, while also hinting at something’s ultimate end. And while that does make me sad, it does remind me that as you age, some things you have to really start to appreciate, like your favorite band releasing an album you immediately grab onto and can’t get enough of, because those things are not guaranteed forever.

Anyways, I’m off to scour through the hidden vinyl track for any clues about the story, until I have my novella from the box set.

Recommended tracks: The Father of Make Believe, Play the Poet, The Continuum II: The Flood, Goodbye, Sunshine
You may also like: Mandroid Echostar, 3
Final verdict: 8/10

Related links: Spotify | Official Website | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Virgin Music Group (distributor) – Official Website

Coheed and Cambria is:
– Claudio Sanchez (vocals, guitars, synths)
– Travis Stever (guitars)
– Zach Cooper (bass)
– Josh Eppard (drums)

The post Review: Coheed and Cambria – The Father of Make Believe appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Alternative Rock, Progressive Rock (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Pearl Jam, 311, Foo Fighters, Fair to Midland
Country: Canada
Release date: 12 September 2024

We are now far enough away from the 90s that, like the 80s, artists with a sound rooted in that decade come across as “retro” and “nostalgic” instead of as aping a painfully dated and passé era, even if for many of us (me), the 90s feel like twenty-five minutes ago. In fact, many of the bands I’ve reviewed recently have the 90s zeitgeist to thank for their sound, whether it be Orion’s take on Rush’s turn-of-the-millennium alt-rock or Feras Arrabi’s union of SNES JRPG music with progressive rock and jazz fusion. Vancouver’s Fen are no stranger to 90s music either, returning after a twelve-year break with their sixth album Dear Mouse: how well does it pay homage to the decade that only certain kids remember?

Fen live and breathe 90s alt rock on Dear Mouse, exuding a youthful charm through medium-pitched vocals, lively drum work, and in-your-face guitar solos, all delivered with a touch of quirk and theatricality. Tracks like “Ritual Lite” have the swagger and kineticism of Pearl Jam’s “Even Flow” with the rapid-fire vocal delivery of Everything Everything‘s Jonathan Higgs, while “Recall” begins like a brooding 311 track, picking up speed in its latter half with an addictive chorus. Fen even dip their toes into Foo Fighters-style pop-punk on tracks like “The Password is I Believe” and “Dying on a Hill (of Cubicle, Window, Steel, and Concrete),” utilizing punchy power chord-led verses and huge choruses, making Dear Mouse a veritable grab-bag of rock styles.

The most immediate and engaging facet of Dear Mouse is the energy emanated by faster-paced songs – I absolutely love the moments when vocalist Doug Harrison spits off lyrics at a hundred miles an hour on “Dying on a Hill” or “Ritual Lite,” utilizing rhythmic playfulness in his voice despite the velocity. “Our Latest Quarry” sits at a comfortable mid-pace for most of its runtime but surprises the listener with an uncharacteristically fast-paced guitar solo complemented by powerful high-pitched belts; “E.D.B.D.” incorporates both speed and groove, breaching post-hardcore territory with lopsided mathy guitar riffs establishing its backbone; and “The Seam of the Heart” ends on the most progressive moment of the album, a culmination of quick speed and swirling instrumentation.

This praise is not to discount Dear Mouse’s evocative slower moments. “The Seam of the Heart” begins with a moody vocal delivery in the verses, hitting some gorgeous high notes on the chorus, and finally cranking the drama up to maximum on the syncopated bridge before breaking down into a brief standalone vocal performance; “Dear Mouse” eschews live drums in favor of sparse electronic percussion complemented by a tense, watery guitar tone and almost slurred vocals, slowly building in power yet retaining the moodiness established in the introductory moments; closer “Into the Blaze” seemingly floats in space for its first half before exploding into a full band on the chorus, hitting some of the highest notes on the album in its closing moments. Fen write catchy and compelling tracks regardless of speed, intensity, or style, and Dear Mouse shows they are eager to put that on display.

However, Fen’s eagerness to showcase their acumen in different styles manifests in a feeling of incohesiveness across the album’s runtime despite Dear Mouse’s solid track-by-track songwriting, almost as if each song was written by a different band. “E.D.B.D.” stands out as a highlight for its interesting ideas and killer execution, but it sounds like it belongs on an entirely different album as its post-hardcore sensibilities stick out like a sore thumb compared to the rest of Dear Mouse’s alt rock. There are also considerable breaks in momentum from moment to moment, going from Pearl Jam-esque larger-than-life energy on “Ritual Lite” to brooding 311isms on “Recall” with little interconnection. However, I’m willing to forgive Dear Mouse‘s scattershot album design, as it’s an infectious and engaging listen nonetheless.

Despite some gripes with a somewhat inconsistent structure across its runtime, I was easily won over by Dear Mouse: Fen know how to have a lot of fun within the 90s alt rock framework, crafting songs that are both slow and contemplative alongside ones that roar with energy and swagger. Virtually every style they pursue is executed to great success, and I’m hopeful that on future releases¹, Fen will discover ways of bringing these styles together in a wholly cohesive package while still retaining the unadulterated fun that oozes from their music.

Recommended Tracks: Ritual Lite, The Seam of the Heart, Dying on a Hill (of Cubicle, Window, Steel, and Concrete), E.D.B.D.
You may also like: Mile Marker Zero, Orion, Advent Horizon
Final verdict: 7.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook

Label: Independent release

Fen is:
– Doug Harrison (vocals)
– Sam Levin (guitars)
– Jeff Caron (bass)
– Randall Stoll (drums)

1. Based on press releases, it seems likely that the band is done for now, as Dear Mouse is a compilation of songs that have been percolating for the last decade or so that they were just ready to get out into the world. So even if a follow-up is unlikely, I can still dream! ︎

The post Review: Fen – Dear Mouse appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive Rock, Alternative Rock (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Post-Presto Rush, Geddy Lee’s solo work, Pearl Jam, Triumph, Winterhawk
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: 16 August 2024

Rush is a band of many eras: making a name for themselves with their 70s progressive hard rock, the trio took a left turn into Police-inspired reggae rock beginning with 1980’s Permanent Waves and transitioning fully into synthwave by the time of 1982’s Signals. The 90s saw Rush diverting in sound once again to alternative rock after the interstitial Presto and Roll the Bones, deviating little from this formula up until swansong Clockwork Angels. While Rush’s 90s output is likely their most overlooked, its influence on progressive rock can still be found today. For example, The Lightbringers, the second release of multi-instrumentalist Ben Jones’s project Orion, takes many cues from Rush’s closing era, even getting their long-time artist Hugh Syme to design the album art. Now, are all of these elements together a miracle too good to be true, or does The Lightbringers bring little to the listener but vapor trails?

Orion brings many elements from this era onto The Lightbringers: the base sound is a punchy, percussion-focused take on alternative rock in the vein of tracks like “Dog Years” from Test For Echo, the title track from Vapor Trails, or “Animate” from Counterparts, rumbling along at a mid pace with heavy snare hits and a beefy, almost bassy guitar sound. Whispers of “The Garden” from Clockwork Angels can even be heard on “As Best We Can,” a contemplative piece led by acoustic guitars. Where The Lightbringers deviates from its alt rock Rush homage is in song structure, as Orion is more interested in extended pieces ranging anywhere from seven to ten minutes long – not that extreme in the context of prog, but definitely more adventurous than usual for this style.

The Lightbringers shows quite the acumen for writing catchy alt-rock-meets-prog passages, leaning into the prominent edge of guitars on tracks like “The Tumult of My Heart,” “This Sickness,” and “The Falling Heavens” while leaving space for more sentimental and heartfelt moments within the style on “The Ghosts Among Us.” While the production may not be crystal-clear at all times, it lends itself magnificently to the more lively moments of The Lightbringers, leaving plenty of space for the drums to explode and taking full advantage of the high-energy songwriting. Some moments even give me chills, such as the satisfying climax of “The Ghosts Among Us,” featuring one of The Lightbringers’s best and most exciting choruses.

I’ve given the good news first, though, and the bad news is that the aforementioned chorus is a marked exception to the rule: Orion does excellently with most musical passages, infusing tracks with a sense of excitement and conviction, but save “The Ghosts Among Us” and the title track, The Lightbringers’s choruses are wholly underwhelming. “This Sickness” has an aggressive edge that engages me throughout the intro and into the verses, but an excellent drum fill eventually staggers into a chorus that, for lack of a better description, is just there; “The Falling Heavens” falls into a similar pattern, as a groovy and percussive beginning builds up magnificently to a plodding and somewhat awkward chorus; and the chorus of “As Best We Can” is virtually indistinguishable from the rest of the track. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t need a powerful chorus to enjoy a track, but when the buildup is so exciting and leads to such an unsatisfying payoff, it casts a halo effect on the piece as a whole. I would be interested to see Orion experiment with more non-linear songwriting styles, iterating and evolving the excellent ideas he establishes early on in tracks.

Another issue that mars my enjoyment of The Lightbringers is the mixing. While the production is effective at making every moment sound huge, it is a double-edged sword as there is exceedingly limited dynamic range as a consequence: tracks that feel like they should be quieter, like “As Best We Can,” feel entirely in-your-face, an unbecoming juxtaposition to the song’s somber and contemplative topic of failing relationships. In a similar vein, “Scattering Stars,” the title track, and “The Ghosts Among Us” have many moments that would lend themselves to quieter mixing and would give emphasis to their more urgent passages, as the persistent loudness makes the album feel samey and strips many sections of their identity.

Let’s cut to the chase: The Lightbringers is a far cry from a bad album and shows promise with many exciting moments, nailing many things that later-era Rush got right by delivering a hefty alt-rock punch with a progressive twist, and even doing things somewhat outside of the Rush milieu to craft its own identity. However, a few songwriting misses compound with a brickwalled dynamic range to mar the listening experience, missing the secret touch that Orion needs to craft a complete musical experience. Given that Orion is only on his second album, I am far from faithless that his songwriting chops will refine with time and fully launch his career out of the cradle.

Recommended tracks: The Ghosts Among Us, The Tumult of my Heart, The Lightbringers
You may also like: Mile Marker Zero, Rendezvous Point, Fusebox Poet, Maraton
Final verdict: 6.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Official Website | Facebook

Label: Independent

Orion is:
– Ben Jones (everything)

The post Review: Orion – The Lightbringers appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Prog Metal, Alternative Rock, Pop Rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Devin Townsend, The Armed, Moon Tooth, Voyager
Country: Pennsylvania, USA
Release date: 12 July, 2024

Three years ago now, a much younger and more masculine me reviewed the debut album of a one-man progressive stoner metal project named Mothman and the Thunderbirds. Aside from it being a quirky adventure into the world of cryptids, it left behind the overall musical reputation of mimicry – closely copying the sound of Mastodon and other stoner prog metal bands. Today, Alex Parkinson returns with a new and starkly unexpected sonic aesthetic, revolving much more around the vibrant and pop-oriented worlds of Devin Townsend and Moon Tooth than the sludgy fuzziness of riffs past.

Beginning with a few compliments to the artist: the musical compositions of Portal Hopper are generally more creative and original than Into the Hollow, and the level of distinctness in each of the albums’ sounds is equally as admirable. If one introduced both albums to an unfamiliar ear, it would be difficult for them to recognize much similarity between the two.

I speculate that this is partly thanks to Parkinson’s well-chosen collaboration with the underground pop-prog metal talent Egor Lappo. The influence that a sound engineer has on the album‘s compositional writing varies a good bit; however, in Portal Hopper, if one knows Egor Lappo’s work, it’s pretty obvious how he impacted the product’s development. Listening to an album like Trancevoicer gives one a conception of the bright, colorful lead guitar melodies, cotton candy synths, and earworm vocal hooks that take tracks like “Ruby Skies”, “Fractals”, “Squonk King”, and “Polygonal Polliwag” to hedonistic levels of enjoyment.

The album has a few tracks that lean more into atmospheric and subdued territory, like the relatively epic track “The Zaratan.” This track harnesses the kind of post-metal textures of Devin Townsend’s Accelerated Evolution that build up to a calmingly sublime interlude of sparkly guitar chords, shimmery airy synths, and light hymns – a climax perfectly fit for the album’s ending. However, the album does not end here because we apparently still need to get back through the portal hopper and return to the normal world. The following track has an upbeat vibe similar to the highlights in the paragraph above with the addition of uncanny vocal sprinkles reminiscent of Others by No One. The album finishes off with a somber acoustic track named “Attic” recounting the previous magical events of the Portal Hopper; it’s not the worst ballad on the album, but it’s a tad unnecessary.

The other ballad, “Somewhere in Time,” does not do the album much service either. The guest vocalist that Parkinson brought to do this sounds like a bad Billie Joe Armstrong impersonator and because of that the two tracks he’s on sound like low-budget 90s pop-rock songs. They are not terrible on their own but they do not mesh cohesively with the rest of the futuristic hyper-pop prog metal of the rest of the album. Conversely, some of the harder, sludge-ish “Flatwoods” tracks on the album also do not fit into the core sound of this new aesthetic and rather sound like unearthed extras from Mothman and the Thunderbirds’ previous effort.

Portal Hopper presents us with a large chunk of music warranting appreciation from underground prog metal fans. As I see it, around eight to nine tracks on the album fit a clear vision of a sweet and delightful upbeat prog experience, but the other three to four tracks detract from this purpose. Putting myself in the songwriter’s shoes: If Portal Hopper was supposed to be a means of traveling through a vast, eclectic mix of musical styles, then I would have spent more time exploring different styles, further diversifying the album compared to what was presented. But if Portal Hopper was supposed to resemble this melodic, dessert-like sound found on a majority of the album, then I would have cut the distractions out of the story.

Recommended tracks: The Zaratan, Squank King, Fractals, Polygonal Polliwag, Ruby Skies
You may also like: Egor Lappo, Toehider, Monolith Zero
Final verdict: 6.5/10

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

Label: Independent

Mothman and the Thunderbirds is:
– Alex Parkinson (lead vocals, backing vocals, guitars, bass, synths, vocoder, drum programming)
– Egor Lappo (guitar (track 5), mixing, mastering, production, drum programming)
– Joe Sobieski (lead vocals (tracks 4 & 9), backing vocals)
– Sam Parkinson (guitar (tracks 8 & 11))

The post Review: Mothman and the Thunderbirds – Portal Hopper appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal, alternative metal, djent, electropop (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: HAKEN LEPROUS CALIGULA’S HORSE (also VOLA, Sleep Token, and Voyager)
Country: Norway
Release date: 21 June 2024

[Editor’s note: while this band has exceeded our 20k monthly listener cap on Spotify, they were only at 9k when we picked them up so blame Sam’s lazy ass for not writing faster.]

The /r/progmetal subreddit is a funny (by that I mean frustrating) place. Recommendation thread after recommendation thread will fly by and what do you see? HAKEN, LEPROUS, CALIGULA’S HORSE. Really, the context doesn’t matter. Want something heavy but dynamic like Opeth? Caligula’s Horse is heavy and dynamic! Want something with epic power metal vibes like Symphony X or Pagan’s Mind? Caligula’s Horse is pretty epic! Want something avant-garde and/or boundary pushing? Well have you considered the innovators in CALIGULA’S FUCKING HORSE?! After a while the community started joking that Jim Grey secretly paid Redditors to shill his band. Of course, each of these threads also has a Haken and a Leprous suggestion in there somewhere even if completely irrelevant to what was requested. What’s the point of this intro you ask? Well, the subject of today’s review, Rendezvous Point, fit right in with this crowd. YES, THEIR MUSIC IS ACTUALLY LIKE CALIGULA’S. FUCKING. HORSE.

To Rendezvous Point’s credit, my intro was a tad misplaced, because a) they actually share Baard Kolstad with Leprous on drums instead of any C-Horse-powered musician, and b) I just wanted to vent. Musically though, Dream Chaser is smooth and djenty, grooving as slickly as someone who subjects their scalp to half a liter of hair product each day abetted by a production as clean as the house of someone suffering from mysophobia. Add a lick of Euro/electro-pop paint for which I am too much of a musical hermit to know the specifics of, and you more or less have the recipe for Dream Chaser.

The biggest standout on Dream Chaser is Geirmund Hansen, whose vocal performance is striking even among pop singers. His sultry tone is admittedly not quite my vibe, but it fits the aesthetic well, and he shows impressive stylistic variety, ranging from emotional vulnerability shown on the opener “Don’t Look Up” and its Piano Break of Sadness, to the floating ethereal melodies that supplement the gentle tapping of “Fireflies,” to the explosiveness of “Oslo Syndrome” or the chorus of “The Tormented”—a song which also plays around with some nifty vocoder effects—to even just casual well-constructed vocal melodies. The only vocal quality he doesn’t really display that I would have liked to see is some grit and/or rawness, but that is more of a preference gripe than anything wrong with Gerimund’s singing, and likely wouldn’t have fit the album’s sanitized aesthetic anyway (note to self: stop expecting everything to be power metal ya dumbass).

Instrumentally, Rendezvous Point keep things generally interesting from a prog perspective despite the poppy song structures. Having Baard Kolstad on drums is of course as close to a guarantee for success you’ll get in that department, but on Dream Chaser it is rather Petter Hallaråker on guitars and Nicolay Svennæs on keys whom I find most impressive, layering on an impeccable sense of rhythmicality and sound design. Baard on the other hand plays mostly supportive and keeps his fills almost solely in service of the riffs and synth melodies. I do miss him showing off a little, but his laid back approach allows sonic space for the other instruments to dance around his grooves with independent rhythmic lines, turning Dream Chaser into a real polyrhythmic extravaganza.

But as tight as Rendezvous Point are, poppy song structures like this can only get you so far on a prog blog. Dream Chaser is only thirty-seven minutes spread out over eight songs, showing little in way of ambitious songwriting. None of these songs are bad, but I rarely find myself amazed at any point either. Only “Still Water” goes for an epic approach to its writing with its increasingly grandiose cinematic synths that culminate in triumphant strings and thunderous, slowed down drumming that almost feels like doom metal. Moreover, the slick djenty grooves feel jarringly uniform in tempo until the final two songs where they slow down a little. I could have used a higher tempo track or two and the slower, doomy vibes of “Still Water” spread out more evenly across the album. 

Although poppy djent-prog has been relatively played out over the years, Rendezvous Point’s playing and songwriting skills put them at the forefront of the movement. Most of my qualms with Dream Chaser are inherent to the style they play in, which I imagine those who are already a fan of this style won’t have any issues with. Nevertheless, I would be very curious to see what Rendezvous Point would come up with should they ever decide to try something more ambitious like Caligula’s Horse did with Charcoal Grace earlier in the year so they can truly win over the fans of HAKEN LEPROUS CALIGULA’S HORSE.

Recommended tracks: Don’t Look Up, Presence, Still Water
You may also like: Ihlo, Ions, Temic, Effuse
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Long Branch Records – Bandcamp | Facebook

Rendezvous Point is:
– Geirmund Hansen (vocals)
– Petter Hallaråker (guitars)
– Nicolay Tangen Svennæs (keyboards)
– Gunn-Hilde Erstad (bass)
– Baard Kolstad (drums)

The post Review: Rendezvous Point – Dream Chaser appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Art rock, trip-hop, alternative folk, dark folk, dark ambient, alternative rock (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Chelsea Wolfe, Radiohead, Massive Attack, Portishead, Björk, Emma Ruth Rundle, Anna von Hausswolff. And some comparisons more specific to this blog: Steven Wilson’s arty/electronic works, Lunatic Soul, later Ulver, The Black Queen, iamthemorning
Country: UK
Release date: February 16th 2024 (Part One); May 17th 2024 (Part Two)

If I have a specific love outside of progressive metal, it’s arty, rocky, electronica-tinged, trip-hoppy… stuff. I don’t know what to call it exactly, it’s more a vibe than a genre, but if you look at the bands in the “recommended” section above then you’ll know the ballpark I’m in; the not-so-mainstream music that forefronts complex instrumentation, emotional sincerity and strange sonic textures. There’s been some good examples as of late, from the new Beth Gibbons and St Vincent albums to Steven Wilson’s foray into electro-prog last year, but what I didn’t expect was that I’d find one of the best groups in this realm repped by Pelagic Records, the label founded by Robin Staps of progressive metal band The Ocean, better known for doom, sludge and post-metal¹.

i Häxa is comprised of vocalist and visual artist Rebecca Need-Menear (one half of alternative rock group Anavae), and instrumentalist and producer Peter Miles (producer for We Are The Ocean and Architects, and co-producer on Tesseract’s latest album), and these two EPs Part One and Part Two form the first half of their audacious audiovisual project. Part One (From the Earth) has been released with an accompanying short film while Part Two (Fire) comes with a live studio performance. A giddy concoction of trip-hop, art pop, folk, and dark ambient flavours form the bulk of this genre-defying brew which relies on exquisite production, hauntingly rich vocals, and an intense dichotomy of tension and release, softness and abrasiveness. Both EPs run to just over fifteen minutes and each feature four tracks that flow together like one long suite. 

Need-Menear’s honeyed voice oozes threat and vulnerability in equal measure, and she modulates exquisitely: on “The Well” (Part Two) she starts out husky, sinuous, and just a little caustic, ultimately crescendoing with a belting, cathartic vocal solo over chaotic strings and ambient layers straight out of Radiohead’s most raucous work—the track also gambles on gradually slowing the feel during the climax, the drums reducing from half time to quarter, etc, while the energy of the vocals and strings increases, which pays off beautifully. A handful of songs—”Inferno” (Part One), “We Three”, and “Fog of War” (both Part Two) feature prominent spoken word pieces, also by Need-Menear, who narrates with a deft feel for rhythm, enunciation, and intensity. On “Inferno”, the ambient textures and pulsating drumwork slowly build to an unbearable maelstorm, trapping her voice in labyrinthine layers of sound, while “Fog of War”, which closes Part Two in hair-raising fashion, ends with some of her best apocalyptic prose: “It didn’t occur to me how helpless we are/walking, organic containers/at the mercy of circumstance/I am too afraid to cry/eyes glued to the hues of my southern hemisphere/ablaze/a borealis of flame”—your move, Yeats. All too often, spoken word in music is ill-conceived and lacklustre, but for i Häxa it’s a vital and chilling component within the overall composition.  

Miles, meanwhile, is the perfect instrumental partner, combining folk-tinged guitar and elegant piano with intense layers of synths and complex trip-hop inspired drum work; an entente between analogue and digital. “Underworld” explodes into a filthy electronica beat reminiscent of Massive Attack’s “Angel” but with an even greater sense of heft and menace; the looping background vocals underlying “Sapling” sit amid gorgeous piano, and ominously percussive ticking with a 3/4 feel, all of which form the perfect bedrock for one of Need-Menear’s most emotive performances; and the two drum lines played in counterpoint on “We Three” confer an unsettling energy. The verses of “Eight Eyes”, meanwhile, unfold in 5/4 with a possible bar of 7/4 here and there², before the polyrhythmic chorus, and on “Inferno” Miles sojourns over the piano in free form, a gentle fluttering beneath growing tension. All these subtleties are nestled within an enormous wall of sound, and yet are distinct within that immense totality, demonstrating Miles’s profound intuition for balancing every sonic element.

As this is an audiovisual experience, it’s worth delving into the accompanying film pieces. Part One’s EP-length music video has fantastic production values, creative costumes, and dynamic camerawork, borrowing from the visual language of folk horror, with Dantean symbols of hell, and themes of death and rebirth. Violently contorting forest spirits paw at Need-Menear who plays the nameless protagonist, and as Miles’ synths intensify under her tortured narration during “Inferno”, we see her trapped in a claustrophobic prison of human flesh, somewhere on the Botticelli to NBC’s Hannibal spectrum. The imagery conjured here is striking: Need-Menear wreathed in red light watching herself cradled in the arms of a forest spirit, breaking free from a fabric amniotic sac, a bewebbed sapling ablaze in a clearing. If a pop artist with millions of dollars and a professional director at their disposal put out this exact film we’d be hailing it as one of the best music videos ever made.

You might think the live in studio video for Part Two would struggle to reach up to the expectations set by Part One’s feature. And while Need-Menear, Miles and company aren’t pushing the limits of cinematic performance art this time, the vibes are impeccable nonetheless, reflecting the more darkly intimate tone of these songs. With the studio draped in bloodred velveteen and a deer skull chandelier looming menacingly overhead, the performance becomes increasingly claustrophobic. By the time spoken word piece “Fog of War” comes to close proceedings, the camera’s flitting around in panicked circles like a trapped moth, tortured screams emanate amid the performers wringing pandemonium from their instruments (this performance goes a little harder than the EP version), and Need-Menear’s knelt down amidst it all intoning dread premonitions from some infernal tome—you’ll find few studio performances that go harder. Both of these visual components add new dimensionality to the music, and prove rewarding and worthwhile companion pieces, little artworks in their own right.

With a Part Three and Part Four of this solstice-guided work set for release by November³, I’m very excited to complete this journey given the excellence of the first two instalments. Suffice to say, that i Häxa is an extraordinarily bold and audacious project of musical and visual artistry, an addictive, arresting and cathartic listen that I’ve had on repeat since discovering it. Everyone involved, both the main duo, the guest musicians, and all those involved in bringing the visuals to life, should be incredibly proud of themselves—kudos to Pelagic Records, too, who continue to impress with their open-minded signings. Existential, intimate, pagan, and utterly sublime, i Häxa looks set to be one of 2024’s strangest and most rewarding musical experiences..

Recommended tracks: Underworld, Sapling; Eight Eyes, The Well (but really I suggest you sit down and take half an hour to watch both video pieces in full)
You may also like: Ophelia Sullivan, Courtney Swain, Dreadnought, Suldusk, Marjana Semkina, White Moth Black Butterfly, Meer, Exploring Birdsong
Final verdict: 9/10

1.  The Ocean’s last album, Holocene, introduced electronica influences to their sound, and Pelagic rep a few other artists who play with trip-hop, drone and electronica, such as Playgrounded, BRUIT≤, and SHRVL, but i Häxa nevertheless rank among their most out-there signings. 
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2.  Counting above four is hard so I might have this wrong. Suffice to say, there’s weird time signatures happening.
   ︎
3.  Rest assured I’ll be reviewing those two EPs after they’ve both come out, and to assess the project in its entirety. 
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Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | YouTube | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Pelagic Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

i Häxa is:
– Rebecca Need-Menear (vocals)
– Peter Miles (instruments, production and mixing)

The post Review: i Häxa – Part One & Part Two appeared first on The Progressive Subway.