No artist credited

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Label: Independent

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

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

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

Style: Hyperpop, Progressive Pop (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Poppy, Crystal Castles, Purity Ring, Phantogram, Frosting-era Bent Knee
Country: New York, United States
Release date: 4 April 2025

Sleigh Bells are a band that—in the consciousness of many—belong solidly in the 2010s. The smash hit off their debut album Treats, “Rill Rill”, wasn’t released as a single but was featured in an iPhone commercial, tearing to the top of their most-streamed songs, where it still sits today. But for the past decade and a half, these harbingers of heady hyperpop have continued quietly crafting their own brand of rule-bending rock. Bunky Becky Birthday Boy, the latest full-length album from the duo, is a confident continuation of that progressive spirit, bubbling away just beneath the crust of mainstream pop.

Treats introduced Sleigh Bells’ unique blend of pop and noise rock to the world, wriggling right into the then-nascent hyperpop party. Tracks like “Infinity Guitars” and “A/B Machines” rely heavily on the production style: vocals and drums are clipped and distorted, giving an overall raw, fuzzy feeling. The follow-up album, Reign of Terror, ditches the clipping, opting for a cleaner overall sound, but maintains the same fusion of genres at the core of the previous album. Sleigh Bells‘ four intervening releases have maintained this momentum: the band may not have branched out, but they have definitely refined their core sound to the point of near perfection.

“Bunky Pop”, the lead single off Bunky, is the rousing result of that refinement. It is far and away the catchiest song Sleigh Bells have ever written. A veritable avalanche of hooks, it positively pummels the listener with sweet-and-sour synthesizers; short, snappy, alliterative lyrical lines; pounding programmed percussion; and clean-cut choruses of delicately distorted strings. Multiple key changes, abrupt transitions, and crystal-clear production make “Bunky Pop” the audible equivalent of a Kandinsky: everything is all over the place, but that is far from accidental. Each element has been planted with perfect precision: Alexis Krauss’s clean alto vocals contrast with Derek E. Miller’s New York style, in-your-face talk-singing; the introductory synthesizer melody is repeated multiple times with slight variations in various timbres, getting more distorted and eerie with each repetition, like your friendly local birthday clown slowly transforming into Stephen King’s Pennywise. If there was ever any doubt that Sleigh Bells are the pinnacle of post-pandemic progressive pop, “Bunky” absolutely annihilates that assertion.

The second single, “Wanna Start A Band?”, is only marginally less magnetic. If “Bunky” leans all the way into Sleigh Bells‘ pop sensibilities, “Wanna Start A Band?” dials it back just a touch, exploring moderately more experimental ground with its front-and-centre microtonal synths. The keys also take a lead role in “Hi Someday”, a vaporwave-inspired track on the back half of Bunky. While most of the band’s oeuvre is propelled primarily by percussion, “Hi Someday” is mainly built atop driving, twangy 80s-style synths, not unlike those found on tracks by artists like Carpenter Brut. Sleigh Bells are at their best when they are pushing boundaries (both self-imposed and in general); they are at their least compelling when they fall into their comfort zone of bog-standard pop rock.

Unfortunately, while Bunky opens and closes strongly, it fails to maintain that consistency throughout: the tracks in the middle third of the album are all a bit samey, and therefore fail to be memorable. “This Summer”, “Can I Scream”, and “Badly” are perfectly cromulent pop songs, but they all have that familiar verse-chorus pop structure, one or two big hooks, and not much else. This has a cloying effect, like eating one too many desserts in quick succession; you start to get sick of it. When your album is only thirty-two minutes long, you’ve got to give me more than one course, quickly. One cannot survive on empty calories alone.

The bulk of Bunky is built on bedrock familiar to fans of the band: Krauss’ deft vocals glide effortlessly atop Miller’s pop-rock soundscapes; double-time bass pedalling abruptly stops to give space for a massive bass drop; and layered keys and guitars build a sonic nest that gently carries a whole horde of hooks. The soul of Sleigh Bells is on full display, and never has it been more concrete or thoroughly distilled than on Bunky Becky Birthday Boy.

Recommended tracks: Bunky Pop, Wanna Start A Band?, Hi Someday
You may also like: Black Dresses, Rubblebucket, Tune-Yards, The Weeknd’s Hurry Up Tomorrow for a different kind of progressive pop
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Mom + Pop – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Sleigh Bells is:
– Alexis Krauss (vocals, production)
– Derek E. Miller (bass, percussion, guitar, synthesizer, production, engineering)
With guests:
– Kate Steinberg (touring musician; backing vocals, keyboards)

The post Review: Sleigh Bells – Bunky Becky Birthday Boy appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive rock, progressive pop, art rock, electronica, post-rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Katatonia, Steven Wilson (all), The Pineapple Thief, Gazpacho
Country: Norway
Release date: 25 April 2025

Dust off that box of corpse paint you haven’t touched since Halloween 2022, because woodland-monikered Oak are taking us to the grim forests of Norway. Delivering a blasphemous brand of black metal, the band… no, wait, this doesn’t sound like black metal at all. This is actually a clean, artsy take on progressive rock. And was that an electronica section? This Oak clearly isn’t the typical tree of the frozen north’s dark timberlands. Ah, that’s right, we’ve even covered these guys before. My bad. Put away that corpse paint because there’s no black metal to be found here. Or is there?

The Third Sleep picks up right where Oak’s previous album left off, providing another highly listenable and densely melodic slab of progressive rock. The band’s work rings familiar: melancholic passages drawing clear inspiration from Katatonia and Steven Wilson are scattered throughout, and tinges of the softer sides of Opeth and Ulver can also be heard. But Oak spin their influences into a style unmistakably their own, due in part to how well they weave electronica into a more common, moody prog-rock sound. Vocalist Simen Valldal Johannessen also has a distinct, emotive baritone that colors the music a darker shade. Johannessen takes on piano duties as well, and the instrument plays a significant role as the album’s main melodic driver.

Pensive yet poppy, Oak craft nuanced prog that stays remarkably accessible. Right from the opener, “No Such Place,” Johannessen effortlessly carries a tuneful vocal melody over a 5/4 verse while accenting acoustic strumming with his piano. The song also features a soulful saxophone solo—one of several on the album. A couple of tracks later, “Run Into the Sun” delivers a real earworm: the chorus is infectious, something fit for the radio on its surface. However, a deeper listen reveals an impressive interplay between a guitar lead and piano melody underneath. “London” has a similarly singable chorus, but incorporates some slick rhythmic guitar punches and drumming far more dynamic and complex than a typical pop chorus. The song’s verse is another instance where intricate playing meets listenability, with a wandering fuzzy bassline and synth textures driving behind Johannesen’s crooning. 

Although The Third Sleep leans on conventional song structures, each track has at least one extended instrumental detour, often post-rock in feel. The lead single “Shimmer” is a shining example: after primarily following a verse-chorus pattern for its first half (with some really great percussion, I might add), the track is stripped down to simple bass, drums, and piano. Additional instruments and textures are then layered in patiently before it all swells gently and resolves. It’s a lovely listen, the song’s back half providing over three minutes of mellow instrumental bliss. “Borders” pulls a similar trick in its second half but centers around programmed drums and a somber, lingering synth. “Sensory Overload,” meanwhile, has a noisier and heavier bridge at its midpoint, at times including dissonant distorted keys and cacophonous saxophone. Oak’s ability to combine conventional song structures with these detailed and varied instrumental explorations makes The Third Sleep incredibly listenable and fulfilling enough to revisit. The album’s warm, clear mix helps bring it all together, allowing plenty of space for each instrument—real or programmed—to breathe without the whole package sounding sterile. 

Despite the album’s various textures and clear craftsmanship, though, it lacks exceptionally memorable or compelling passages—no true peaks. The Third Sleep isn’t middling prog, but it’s quite safe for the most part: it’s the kind of release you bring home to meet Mom and Dad; you then settle down, get that spacious two-story house with the yard and white picket fence, grow old, and retire comfortably. It’s a good life, not necessarily boring, but without major excitement. That’s The Third Sleep. An exception to this suburban dream (or nightmare) of a metaphor does come with “Sensory Overload,” ending the album—much to my surprise—with a minute or so of something bordering on straight-up black metal (better bring that corpse paint back out!). The section is complete with double bass drumming, a riff not far from a blackened tremolo, and demonic growls. And although I appreciate the section’s unexpectedness, it’s more memorable for its surprising nature than execution—it’s a fun touch, but not much more.

Even if The Third Sleep doesn’t have any moments as astounding as I’d expect from a band so capable, I can repeat exactly what we said about Oak’s last album: “There’s still a hell of a lot here to enjoy.” The Third Sleep is engaging in its variety and detail, gorgeously produced, well-performed, and accessible enough to bring home to your parents—just don’t let them catch you donning your corpse paint for that final passage.

Recommended tracks: London, Run Into the Sun, Shimmer
You may also like: Jonathan Hulten, Bruce Soord and Jonas Renkse’s Wisdom of Crowds, Playgrounded, Haven of Echoes
Final verdict: 7/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Karisma Records: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Oak is:
– Simen Valldal Johannessen (vocals, piano, keyboard)
– Sigbjørn Reiakvam (drums, percussion, programming, keys, guitars)
– Øystein Sootholtet (guitars and bass)

The post Review: Oak – The Third Sleep appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Art rock, progressive pop, electro-industrial (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Radiohead, Invisible, The Smile, Aphex Twin
Country: Texas, United States
Release date: 11 April 2025

In music, with experimentation comes freedom. I know, no shit, right? But hear me out. Any piece an artist creates establishes a context for their later works: how much less of a disappointment would Obscura‘s latest trash fire have been were it not for their back catalog of tech death masterpieces? And how surprising would the uplifting post-rock of Anathema‘s The Optimist have been without their extensive history of moody, lugubrious alt rock? Wholly disinterested in comparisons to their older works, progressive rock legends The Mars Volta took this truism to its logical conclusion on their 2022 self-titled LP, completely eschewing the progressive rock and post-hardcore of their early career for Caribbean-flavored art pop. With such a radical shift in sound, how do you even create a context in which to understand a piece? The quick answer is, you can’t easily, and you’re forced to look at the artist through fresh eyes to be able to say anything particularly meaningful or interesting. With their new groundwork laid, The Mars Volta have the freedom to experiment however the hell they want, making a firm statement that they are untethered from their past as a progressive post-hardcore mainstay. What do they do with this newfound freedom on latest release, Lucro Sucio; Los Ojos del Vacío (Dirty Profit; The Eyes of the Void)?

Further distancing themselves from their post-hardcore sensibilities, Lucro Sucio sits closer to Radiohead‘s Kid A with added touches of latin jazz, electro-industrial à la Death Grips, and Aphex Twin-flavored ambient/IDM. Tense-but-subdued instrumentation, effect-laden vocals, and a surrealist bent create the feeling of traversing a trepidatious and vast steppe that gets intermittently swallowed in psychedelia. Tracks like “Reina Tormenta” (Storm Queen) and “Alba del Orate” (Dawn of the Madman) urge along frenetic percussion while other pieces are happy to indulge in dirging, weightless lethargy, such as “Maullidos” (Mews) and “Voice in my Knives”. Keyboards are also prominent, acting as the main melodic thread alongside Cedric Bixler-Zavala’s vocals. Lucro Sucio‘s tracks come together as a singular piece that flows from moment to moment, attached by interstitial asides and moved along by textural exploration.

While verse-chorus structures do manifest on tracks like “Morgana” and “The Iron Rose”, their presence is secondary and almost incidental in comparison to the use of texture as a tool for progression. “Enlazan la Tinieblas” (The Darkness Binds), for example, touts a subdued maximalism thanks to its generous use of electronic and organic sounds in a relatively hushed framework. Little to no negative space is left as every bit of sonic real estate is occupied by a percussive symphony performed by a thousand skittering bugs; by its end, the bevy of layers capitulates to overblown industrial bells, all of the flitting blips and bleeps completely overtaken in a blinding and inescapable light. A segue through bizarre looped voice effects leads into following track “Mictlán” (The Underworld), which responds to this textural complexity by stripping it all away and opening the space up for glowing and minimalist ambience under Bixler-Zavala’s vocals. Some tracks even squeeze both approaches into their comparatively short runtimes: “Cue the Sun” is fairly open and spacious, keeping its textures in restraint until a chaotic and jazzy instrumental break bullies its way into the otherwise tranquil atmosphere.

The backbone that allows Lucro Sucio to explore texture without completely losing focus is the use of a subtle flow, consistently revisiting a handful of atmospheres. Opener “Fin” establishes an ethereal and tranquil sensibility for tracks like “Mictlán”, “Voice in My Knives”, and “Morgana” to safely return to after the more turbulent explorations on “Enlazan la Tinieblas”, “Alba del Orate”, and “Detrás la Puerta Dorada” (Behind the Golden Door). Additionally, small interludes help to bridge otherwise unrelated tracks through the use of repetitive and extended sections that fade slowly between ideas. “Poseedora de mi Sombra” (Possessor of my Shadow) tethers “Voice in My Knives” to “Celaje” (Cloudscape) by beginning with the languid atmospherics of “Voice”, but becomes gradually encompassed by a lopsided jazz break that ends in keyboard flourishes hinting at the main melodic ideas of “Celaje”. However, some tracks only work as a segue due to their lack of direction: “Detrás la Puerta Dorada” feels like a spiritual successor to “Five per Cent for Nothing” off of Yes‘ Fragile, a short burst of chaotic chords and staggered meter in a frantic jazz framework. There’s a shocking amount going on, but it’s too cacophonous to make any sense of, and so the track only really works to bridge “Un Disparo al Vacío” (A Shot Into the Void) and “Maullidos”.

Lucro Sucio‘s most captivating tracks have a self-contained progression while working within the record’s larger context: “Celaje” appears as a relatively simple and languid track at first blush, but closer inspection reveals trippy time changes and subtle shifts in mood. Introduced with slow rhythms and vocals drenched in watery reverb, increasingly frequent drum fills pair with a shredding organ until the song opens up massively through spacey keyboards. The track then slows down into plaintive vocal melodies underlaid by sparse but thumping bass before being suddenly pulled back into its establishing idea, expertly transitioning from section to section despite its short runtime. “Un Disparo al Vacío” goes through a similar progression, starting with forward percussion and building into a fervent vocal performance with a killer guitar riff. Unfortunately, the guitar is held back by the subsequent quiet drum production, which—while still quite captivating—stops this ‘drop’ of sorts from having the staggering punch it could have had.

Despite a stellar flow and willingness to revel in its atmospheres, Lucro Sucio‘s focus on texture can sometimes make memorability a challenge. Like trying to recall an exciting dream that continues to fade from your consciousness, it’s often easier to remember the emotions associated with a track than it is to remember any specific melodies or moments. Catchy vocal lines help to anchor compositions and expansive synth chords immediately bring the listener back to Earth after a hallucinatory aside, but these aren’t much more than snippets in the grand scheme of the record. Ironically enough, Lucro Sucio’s exceedingly smooth progression is quite difficult to map out because of how heavily the album leans into its hazy, surreal aesthetic: is that track a reprise, or is it just similar enough to an earlier moment that it activates the same neurons?¹ One gets the sense that the record is intentionally oblique and standoffish, unwilling to be understood except by its most dedicated listeners.

Lucro Sucio; Los Ojos del Vacío sets itself far apart from anything in The Mars Volta‘s back catalog, fully embracing the newfound freedom in their refreshed songwriting approach. While glimpses of their core sound are undoubtedly present, the use of texture as a driving musical force and the consolidation of each track into a free-flowing singular piece shows an eagerness to experiment even after two-plus decades of collaboration. Lucro Sucio is mysterious, engaging, and sonically rich, and despite some missed opportunities and struggles with memorability, it’s difficult to see the record as anything but a successful and artistically whole experiment. The Eyes of the Void stared, and The Mars Volta confidently stared back.

tRecommended tracks: Celaje, Un Disparo al Vacío, Reina Tormenta/Enlazan las Tinieblas, Cue the Sun
You may also like: Kayo Dot, Bend the Future, The Mercury Tree
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

Label: Clouds Hill Music – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

The Mars Volta is:
– Cedric Bixler-Zavala (vocals)
– Omar Rodriguez-Lopez (guitars)
– Eva Gardner (bass)
– Marcel Rodriguez-Lopez (percussion)
– Leo Genovese (keyboards, piano, saxophone)
– Linda-Philoméne Tsoungui (drums)

1. This actually happened to me on my first ten or so listens of Lucro Sucio: I had a ‘Mandela Effect’ moment with “Morgana”, as I could have sworn it was reprising ideas from earlier in the album. Upon closer inspection, it’s the first time that those ideas appear anywhere, an experience I’ve never had with a record. ︎

The post Review: The Mars Volta – Lucro Sucio; Los Ojos del Vacío appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive rock, progressive pop, art rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: new Leprous, Agent Fresco, Porcupine Tree
Country: international
Release date: 20 September 2024

My fellow reviewer, Christopher, reviewed Haven of Echoes’ debut The Indifferent Stars a couple years ago, and despite his reasonable 7.5/10, I actually enjoyed the album more than he did, so in a rare move in the reviewing game—the transferring of the reviewing torch—here I am after to tackle Memento Vivere, the international group’s sophomore album. At only four tracks ranging from eight to fourteen minutes, the progressive art rockers have upped their ambition to deal with themes of impermanence and, as the title states, remembering to live. Do Haven of Echoes pluck my heartstrings with their progressive art rock twice in a row?

Still predominantly the same aesthetic, Haven of Echoes use electric harp, synths, and treble-y vocals to create pensive pieces. Occasionally rawer instrumentation slips through the slick modern production and electric, modern Leprous-y pop—the solo at 9:45 in “Non Sum, Non Curo” is a clear highlight as well as the drumming patterns at 6:00 into “It Walks Among Us”—but otherwise Memento Vivere is content to build off of simple ideas into more complex layerings, preferring emotional complexity to flashy instrumentals. To capture a feeling of impermanence, Haven of Echoes balance yearning nostalgia with a tinge of hope throughout the meandering, weighty epics. With their slow-burning progressions, the tracks on Memento Vivere typically all flip-flop between aching, slow atmospheric sections through crescendos to more passionate, fiery climaxes (and choruses in the shorter tracks).

The atmospheric sections are pleasant and induce a sensation of timeless weightlessness through their synths and harp, Haven of Echoes are masters of eliciting complicated emotions from the listener. However, the vast majority of the album is spent aimlessly meandering through pretty progressions, and the sensation can only persist for so long. By halfway through the eighteen minute opener “Non Sum, Non Curo,” I’m, regrettably, already bored of the etherealities of Haven of Echoes. The issue is compounded by vocalist Paul Sadler: while his lower tone is buttery and rich, he spends more time in his upper register which is whiney, his delivery lacking in range. Although Sadler is clearly talented, he falls on the falsetto delivery as a crutch much like Einar Solberg (Leprous), but unlike Einar, he doesn’t have the vocal agility to rely upon it for so long. Lead single “Assimilation” and “Ad Infinitum” in particular rely on this schtick for a seemingly endless period of time. The emotional core of Memento Vivere at large evaporates before the lengthy atmospheres progress, leaving the album seemingly aimless at points. 

At the climaxes, Sadler tries his hardest to add some grit to his vocal performance, and the instruments become much more engaging, actually adding in some rock elements, but it’s too little too late—the droning, monotonous parts have already zapped out my engagement with the tracks beyond reconciliation. The sound is pretty for snippets, and the climaxes in isolation are heartfelt moments with sincerity in their execution, yet Haven of Echoes need significantly more focus in their songwriting like on the debut with its more restrained song lengths to have these sections land with the gravity they should garner. 

I’m left bitterly disappointed by Memento Vivere, the whole thing a frustrating, rudderless experience. It’s tepid despite its ambition, bland despite its capacity for emotion, straight up boring despite the pedigree. There are glimmers of what made the debut so brilliant in its understatedness, but Memento Vivere is a letdown. I finally see the real reason Chris deferred this to me—it wasn’t a kindness.

Recommended tracks: It Walks Among Us
You may also like: Meer, Frequency Drift, Playgrounded, Mother of Millions, Marjana Semkina
Final verdict: 5/10

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

Label: Frequency Drift – Bandcamp

Haven of Echoes is:
Paul Sadler: all vocals, guitars
Nerissa Schwarz: electric harp, keys
Wolfgang Ostermann: drums
Andreas Hack: all other instruments

The post Review: Haven of Echoes – Memento Vivere appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Genres: Progressive Rock, Progressive Pop, Post-rock, Math Rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Yes, The Dear Hunter, Newer Leprous, Quieter VOLA tracks
Country: Pennsylvania, United States
Release date: 1 January 2024

One book I have always loved is The Grapes of Wrath. Through simplistic and salt-of-the-earth prose, John Steinbeck is able to explore a broad depth of emotions and tell a gut-wrenchingly sad story of tragedy and change beyond our control, treating simplicity and depth not as opposites, but as counterparts. From a meta-perspective, the novel highlights an important lesson about art and expression: more complex is not always better, and flowery, convoluted language can often lead to an obscured message.

Though I don’t know him personally, I wouldn’t be surprised if prog multi-instrumentalist and doer-of-many-other-things Daniel Cupps of Good NightOwl believes the same thing when writing his brand of progressive rock with a poppy and atmospheric post-rock twist. You may be thinking, “Dave, isn’t prog the PEAK of convoluted flowery garbage?” and in principle, I would 100% agree with you. Good NightOwl, however, doesn’t write progressive rock with the intent to make your head spin: the progressive elements in his music more serve as a tool for atmosphere and texture than as a tool for showboating.

Simplicity as a songwriting principle is more prominent than ever on Good NightOwl’s latest release, Belief, where Cupps takes an interpersonal approach to ideas about our beliefs, our identities, and how they shape our experiences with others, a very complex set of ideas explored in simple and cozy progressive/post/pop compositions. Belief feels like sitting in a dark cave and watching a display of warm, bright lights shimmer outside, all while doing some deep reflection on who you are as a person. It can be considered a “sister album” to the previously released Capital, which features a similar compositional and lyrical style but focuses instead on the consequences of greed and unfettered capitalism.

On top of the pleasant atmosphere are shimmery vocals that occasionally deliver a touch of drama à la Jon Anderson of Yes. “Children of No Faith,” “Pretend to Know,” and “See the Light” have the best vocal deliveries, adding a dramatic flair and bringing songs to a climax. The lyrics are also a highlight for me: they are presented conversationally and without pretense or obscure symbolism, a great approach that not only makes the album feel more intimate and personal, but makes it easier to parse the otherwise daunting topics presented. The opening verse of “What They’re Hiding”, for example, includes the lyrics, “I found a way to make you change / I might be on to something / You’re set in your ways at this age / Til I tug on your heart strings,” which is a poignant reflection on how, despite the desire to be rational beings, we are driven at our core by our feelings.

While the vocals stand out and are the driving melodic force in the music, the other instruments often take a backseat: occasionally, a guitar solo or even a stray saxophone will introduce itself, but for most of the album, the attention is drawn to the vocal delivery. When there aren’t solos, guitars are typically relegated to arpeggio or rhythmic duties. The drums follow suit, serving mostly as a rhythmic base with few opportunities to really shine. Some exceptions to this are on “Children of No Faith,” which includes some engaging and fun drum work during a saxophone solo, the gorgeous sax solo on “Pretend to Know,” and the occasional moment when the bass is allowed to shine on tracks like “Children of No Faith” and “See the Light”. I wish that there were more opportunities for the instrumentation to shine, as the moments where they do show compositional brilliance.

One issue with the vocal-led approach on Belief, however, is the mixing. The vocals are a bit buried under the rest of the instruments, making it hard to focus on the most interesting parts of the music. Burying the vocals is also at odds with the importance of lyrics, taking what would have been intimate and personal moments in the music and making them feel impersonal. Moreover, there are many moments where the principle of simplicity falters: oftentimes, the compositions are so focused on texture and atmosphere that it becomes unmemorable. The album as a whole is missing the climaxes and dynamics that make post-metal and other texture-focused music so rewarding while also missing the punchiness and directness present on Capital. On the other hand, there are moments where simplicity in songwriting is strayed from without reward: lyrics will try to follow rhythmic patterns that just aren’t designed for them. I don’t want the lyrics to be overcomplicated, but I would like them to intermix well with the rhythms instead of feeling like an opposing force.

As it stands, Belief is missing a few key ingredients and ends up being a decent if slightly unmemorable album. There are the bones of a spectacular album on Belief; it’s just missing a few core pieces that showcase Good NightOwl’s exceptional talent. However, I’m really looking forward to what Good NightOwl will release next, because with a mix that is more congruent with the album’s strengths, more pronounced climaxes, and a slightly punchier delivery, Good NightOwl could produce some truly gorgeous and unique progressive rock.

Recommended tracks: Children of No Faith, Pretend to Know, The Exultant Natural State
You may also like: Mew, MEER, Tone of Voice Orchestra
Final verdict: 6/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | RYM page

Label: Independent

Good NightOwl is:
– Daniel Cupps (everything)

The post Review: Good NightOwl – Belief appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive Pop (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Evergrey, Einar Solberg, late Anathema, Lunatic Soul, sad pop singers
Review by: Sam
Country: Sweden
Release date: 1 September, 2023

Over the years, Tom Englund has become progressive metal’s foremost frontman when it comes to The Big Sad. Ever since putting themselves on the mainstage with In Search of Truth, Evergrey have been the frontrunners of sadness and melancholy in the genre, not in part due to Tom’s heart wrenching vocal performances. A few years ago, he decided that even Evergrey wasn’t sad enough for his vocal talents, so he joined up with keyboardist Vikram Shankar and started Silent Skies in which they stripped away any remaining metal aspects so that only sadness remains. As a huge Evergrey fanboy, I can never have enough of Tom’s misery (please dude, don’t be happy, that’d break my heart), so I had to review this.

Dormant is a very ethereal album. Vikram’s electronic synths provide a large, dream-like ambience throughout, of course, with different shades of depression. Each song draws from a slightly different palette of influences however, giving color and different shading to the tracks. Some songs make heavy use of piano, others go for an 80s vibe a la Haken’s Affinity, and sometimes they use cello (mostly in bridges) to pull on your heartstrings as if Tom’s vocals weren’t enough. Vikram’s performance is stellar and his synths alone are enough to move me. Also from a production standpoint it sounds full of life with a mix that really bathes you in its music.

Tom’s vocals are, as expected, unfathomably gloomy, but that’s not all. Each track comes with great emotional nuance, and on several songs he actually manages to sound hopeful, sometimes even coming close to sounding upbeat (Abort! Abort!). Take “Reset”, a song resigned to somberness for its first half, which takes a turn for the optimistic in its chorus and puts its lyrics in an upbeat rhythmic delivery for the verses after. “The Real Me” similarly has a dangerous feel-good vibe with its bright 80s synths and anthemic chorus, and likewise the opener “Construct” almost sounds triumphant near the end. “New Life” however, is a more classic sad track that shows braveness in its lyrics, but ultimately resigns itself to despair (fuck yeah!). Its combination of piano, cello, electronic percussion, and poignant vocals makes for a deeply moving track. On “Dormant” strong trance elements present themselves, giving even more depth to the record’s sonic palette.

There’s just a certain elegance to how these tracks are constructed. Vikram’s nuanced layering of sounds and Tom’s vocal talents really bring out the best in each other. This is not really a prog record in the sense of odd-time signatures and technical wizardry, but the way these songs increase in layers and handle dynamics definitely fits the vibe of prog. I must go back to “New Life” once again because it’s just that perfect. At first it’s a simple piano ballad, but before you know it the cello swells, percussion is everywhere, and it delivers on a huge crescendo as if you’re listening to a late Anathema song. “Tides” and “The Last on Earth” also stand out majorly in this regard.

I find it hard to evaluate a record like this properly. Though deftly nuanced between the tracks, the overwhelming vibe is specific. This is not something you put on lightly. It’s a record to tear your heart out. Tom’s vocal talents are a given at this point in time. The dude still leaves me speechless by just how much emotion he can put into each and every line, and the ambience from Vikram is just as moving. Heck, I would probably cry if Tom recorded a song about the peanut butter sandwich he devoured this morning. As an album artform, I cannot just put a number on it. Each song has the ability to make me cry, but at the same time its introversion can make it fly straight past me if I’m not in the mood.

Recommended tracks: New Life, Reset, The Last on Earth, The Trooper
You may also like: Oak, Haven of Echoes, Playgrounded
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: Napalm Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Silent Skies is:
– Tom Englund (vocals)
– Vikram Shankar (piano, keyboards)

The post Review: Silent Skies – Dormant appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive Pop, Math Rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: The Dear Hunter, modern Leprous/Einar Solberg
Review by: Sam
Country: US-PA
Release date: 14 April, 2023

Some people are just unfairly talented. I always feel a bit cheated when a talented multi-instrumentalist comes by and seemingly churns out better composed, more exciting music than most full-band lineups in an almost casual fashion. The underground isrife with folks like this: be it the mysterious Asthâghul from Esoctrilihum and his experimental black/death metal monstrosities, Déhà from Maladie and a dozen other avant-garde projects, or Danny Mulligan’s eclecticism in Exodus to Infinity, they’re all stupid talented. And now we have Daniel Cupps from Good NightOwl, an experimental progressive rock project. He’s also a television editor, 3D animator, and actor, but we’re here to talk music. 

Good NightOwl is a project that has been going on for quite a while. This is their 15^th (!!) full length album, the first of which came out in 2011.  There are questions to be had as to whether each album listed is actually an album in the traditional sense or just a glorified experimental demo, but it’s an extremely impressive output nonetheless. It’s safe to say that Daniel Cuppsis an experienced songwriter at this point. I dug into some of his older works: The first dozen or so albums seem to be progressive rock with a quirky experimental and psychedelic edge, starting out as instrumental, and adding vocals around 2015 . Around 2019, he started pushing in an increasingly math pop direction with less and less psychedelic and conventional progressive rock elements, to the point where you’d barely recognize that this was the same “band” anymore compared to the earlier sound. And thus we land on Capital, his poppiest album yet.

I say poppy, but this record is by no means straightforward or easy to digest. The music of Good NightOwl is chock full with layers, polyrhythms, time signature changes, and other proggy nuggets that keep you intellectually engaged with the music. What I find most notable about Daniel’s approach is how rhythmic everything is. We have polyrhythms on the drums, acapella vocal layering, synths and guitars accentuating different parts of the rhythms; it’s a pretty mesmerizing combination, simultaneously catchy and complex as it throwsyou off balance with its rhythms. I’ve never heard anything quite like this. At best, I can point to The Dear Hunter for some superficial comparisons like vocal timbre and genres used, but this is far more bright and playful. 

Most of the songs are very good. The playful aspects really pop because they’re often contrasted with grander string-driven parts and vocal melodies that have a rather serious inclination despite their almost casual delivery, such as on “The Lion’s Share” which uses goofy synths in the verses, and the chorus is epic with its vocal harmonization and strings. “Unsleep” also stands out in this regard for its goofy deadpan lyrics (“No one to tell you, you suck”), and its use of horns. Sadly though, the vocals can sometimes be a bit too mundane. Especially on “Schrodinger’s Profit” and “Saving Time” the melodies are awfully plain and the underlying rhythms feel regurgitated. The constant mathy rhythms can also detract when overused. Some more straightforward 4/4 would have been appreciated for contrast. Cups makes up for it to an extent by varying the mood a lot, and he plays around with the synths, but it doesn’t save the record from some monotony. 

I’m not quite sure what to make of this album. It’s certainly unique with its rhythmic interplay between vocals and instruments, and clever use of synths and orchestration, but on the other hand it can also feel awfully mundane at times and I would like a little more ambition in the vocal lines. I am extremely late with this review, but I wanted to get it out anyway because I think it’d be a shame if this got lost to the sea of Bandcamp releases. If you like clever rhythmic interplay, or you strongly value uniqueness, give this a listen.

Recommended tracks: Resources (Limited), Lion’s Share, Royal Fortunes
You may also like: idk, Pleasures maybe? Meer? Tone of Voice Orchestra (bandcamp)?
Final verdict: 6.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | RYM page

Label: Independent

Good NightOwl is:
– Daniel Cupps (everything)

The post Review: Good NightOwl – Capital appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive Rock, Progressive Pop, Art Rock, Electronica, Post-Rock (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Voyager, Lunatic Soul, Ulver’s last two albums, Steven Wilson’s Insurgentes
Review by: Christopher
Country: Norway
Release date: 11 November, 2022

In 2015, a memoir called Reasons to Stay Alive came out, written by a relatively obscure author called Matt Haig about his experience of chronic depression and suicidal ideation. In Britain, this book was an overnight sensation and kicked off a whole movement; talking openly and compassionately about mental health became a necessity, indeed, almost a fashion. In the last few years, prog, which has tackled such topics here and there, has wholeheartedly taken up this discussion: Leprous’ last two albums are about depression, Devin Townsend has moved into a space of life-affirming pop metal, and Pain of Salvation even took on autism on Panther.  

Oak are the latest group to move into this sphere of music for your mental health taking on suicidal ideation on their newest album The Quiet Rebellion of Compromise. Born out of a folk rock duo, this Norwegian four-piece experiments with a poppy prog rock sound that weaves in a substantial electronica influence. First impressions are solid: vocalist Simen Valldal Johannesen has a deep, vibrato-laden baritone that recalls Danielk Estrin of Voyager or even Mark Hollis of eighties art rock group Talk Talk. There’s a strong post-rock streak in the piano and ambiences that gently underpin each track, but Oak are possessed of a dynamism that, on the prog rock side, evokes the more stripped back tracks of newer Leprous or Steven Wilson’s first solo album Insurgentes, while the electronica side of their sound recalls Lunatic Soul, recent Ulver releases, and Voyager.

The electronica aspect is interwoven into their Oak‘s sound with tasteful versatility: Sigbjørn Reiakvam’s drumming is a mix of real and programmed, and that mix of percussion is a driving force throughout the album. Atmospheric synth permeates all tracks, but sometimes the synth is tasked with a more prominent role, as in the lead licks on “Quiet Rebellion”, the dissonant backing noise such as that underlying the frankly gorgeous sax solo on “Sunday 8AM”, and the meatier vibrating bass tones as on “Dreamless Sleep”, a danceable number that would sit comfortably on Ulver’s The Assassination of Julius Caesar. The electronica contribution is vital to the success of every composition. 

This isn’t to say the proggy vibes or traditional instrumentation are in any way lacking, far from it. Jangly guitar riffs open “Demagogue Communion” which is closed by a delightfully messy solo, and the prog credentials come in the form of the epic “Paperwings” which, at nearly fourteen minutes long, traverses: a trip-hop opening section redolent of Massive Attack, more typical prog rock sections suffused by Mellotron, a contemplative spoken word over post-rock section, and into a Leprous-esque finale of astonishing grandeur. 

The Quiet Rebellion of Compromise is crafted around a theme of mental health and suicidal ideation; Oak consulted scholars on mental health and suicide to ensure the lyrics were representative of the issues at hand. Unfortunately, I can’t attest to how well their research pays off in the music—lyrics weren’t available for the album—but I can easily see their music becoming important to people in a difficult emotional bind. The face adorning the album cover is the death mask of a drowning victim and the title font is derived from two separate suicide notes. The latter is a somewhat macabre detail, though it’s well meant. It could seem a little in poor taste, but Oak are motivated by a more forward-thinking sense that we can’t shy away from these issues no matter how unpleasant they may be; that if we talk about these cold, dark places within us, we may be able to diminish their hold upon us.

Blending a secondary genre into your main sound can be a difficult balance, but The Quiet Rebellion of Compromise Oak shows us how it’s done. They drift across the melancholic prog rock/electronica spectrum, and their fusion of those genres is a delight to behold. While I’d love to hear these guys hit giddier peaks in future, there’s still a hell of a lot here to enjoy. But I do hope that Oak will make their lyrics freely available for the listeners who may find comfort in their message.

Recommended tracks: Dreamless Sleep; Highest Tower, Deepest Well; Paperwings
You may also like: Playgrounded, Haven of Echoes, thenighttimeproject, C.O.D.E
Final verdict: 7/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Karisma Records – Bandcamp | Website | Facebook

Oak is:
– Simen Valldal Johannessen (vocals, piano, keyboard)
– Øystein Sootholtet (guitars and bass)
– Stephan Hvinden (lead, rhythm and slide guitars)
– Sigbjørn Reiakvam (drums, percussion, programming, keys and guitars)

The post Review: Oak – The Quiet Rebellion of Compromise appeared first on The Progressive Subway.