Artwork by: Jess Allanic

Style: Metalcore, Alternative Metal, Progressive Metal (Mixed Vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Poppy, Rolo Tomassi, Lake Malice, Wargasm, Holy Wars, As Everything Unfolds
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: 11 July 2025

Back in 2012, the Marvel Cinematic Universe changed the game and shook the industry with the release of The Avengers, a years-in-the-making blockbuster that brought all their disparate heroes together on the silver screen in a historic first. An approximate $1.5 billion later, and suddenly everyone else wanted a money-making universe of their own. DC Studios fast-tracked an Extended Universe; Fox brought back Bryan Singer for 2014’s X-Men: Days of Future Past, which saw OG trilogy stars reprise their roles alongside the new blood. Universal, the original maestros of the crossover universe, jumped back into the game with the Dark Universe, an especially ill-fated attempt that perfectly illustrated the folly of such heedless trend chasing. Hell, even Daniel Craig’s Bond tried with a series of interconnected films. Nowadays, the very mention of a connected universe is enough to elicit a solid groan from people who enjoy actual films over slop. This shit is exhausting. I have a job; I shouldn’t have to do more work to watch a movie. So, when I read the words “Welcome to the Calva Louise Universe” on UK metallers Calva Louise’s Bandcamp, you best believe my groan was mighty.

A three-piece with their own Avengers-esque story—that of unlikely compatriots drawn from disparate corners of the world for an ultimate purpose—Calva Louise is the collaborative brainchild of Venezuelan Jessica Allanic (vocals, guitars), Frenchman Alizo Taho (bass), and New Zealander Ben Parker (drums). Their albums tell a sci-fi story conceived by Allanic when she was younger, following a woman named Louise who discovers a mirror world beyond our own, populated by “Doubles.” Edge of the Abyss is their fourth LP, and my first experience with the band. With a sonic cuisine bringing together razor-edged metalcore, sci-fi electronica, art rock, and a charismatic frontwoman in Allanic, Calva Louise has the sort of core ingredients known to hook my tastes. But, can a first-timer like me survive such a plunge into the cinematic abyss, sans homework? Or do I need to spool up a subscription to Calva Louise+ for further education?

Put down the credit card and unroll those eyes: Edge of the Abyss is not only a stand-alone experience, but an exceptional one at that. While I’m certain there’s connective threads to prior albums linking all of this grand dimension-traversing narrative together, one may safely leave that at the feet of the Calva Louise lorekeepers. Packaged here are eleven tracks and forty minutes of absolutely gonzo, balls-to-the-wall progressive metalcore shot through a multiversal portal of Latin American rhythms, dance-hall-club thumpers, and an uncorked vocal performance to rival Poppy’s most schismatic aural shenanigans. Allanic goes full Bruce Banner / Hulk, delivering saccharine-inflected, almost playfully psychotic cleans reminiscent of bubblegoth-era Kerli before jumping into the purple pants to unleash an arsenal of razored screeches and some surprisingly thunderous lows. Like Poppy, Allanic changes styles at the drop of a dime, made all the more impressive when she switches fluidly from English to Spanish across the majority of Edge of the Abyss. There’s some real psycho-mania energy on display, as if Allanic’s performance comes from a mind ruptured by secrets not meant for mortals. Whether swaying into a sing-along verse (“Barely a Response”) or spitting out vocals like broken teeth (“WTF”), Allanic lands every stroke of her deranged performance with serious aplomb. Her guitar work impressively matches the lunacy via a skronky mathcore-esque freneticism.

If Allanic is the Tony Stark of this outfit, Parker and Taho are Captain America and Thor. Parker provides an especially fluid performance on drums, conducting the album’s rhythmic aims like a meth-addicted octopus as he rolls, blasts, and rides across the kit. He’s thick and punchy in the mix, standing toe-to-toe with Allanic’s churning guitar, knowing when to let a simple beat ride and when to start rolling bones under his double-bass. Taho’s bass playing gets lost in the shuffle on the album’s louder moments (one of the only metal sins Edge of the Abyss commits), but his tones are warm and resonant when audible, thrumming like a steady current to power the madness. Meanwhile, guest contributor Mazare steps in with Hawkeye-level assists, backboning and accenting the record with a slew of dancey beats and skittering keys that add to Edge of the Abyss’s eclectic—and unfettered—fun. The Latin American flavors are integrated well into this glitchy, chaotic stew, feeling authentic and purposeful rather than tacked on for “prog points.”

Metalcore has a tendency to get staid and repetitive, following a very tight structure emphasizing (if not entirely built around) breakdowns and uplifting, cleanly-delivered choruses. A good time, but whole albums can be hard sells for those not entirely beholden to the genre’s whims. On the opposite side, bands like The Dillinger Escape Plan or the aforementioned Poppy can be difficult commitments for me due to the mania that drives their sounds. I can get down with unhinged vocals and whiplash time signatures, but an entire album’s worth runs the risk of grating on my nerves. There’s a novelty factor at play, too, the threat of a “gimmick” overriding the listening experience. A band has to have something more guiding them; strong songwriting, variety, solid pacing… any and all of these go miles towards taking the parlor trick of “we can play 350 bpm” and transmogrifying it into an album you actually want to sit with.

Calva Louise might have easily fallen into this pit of wacky novelty, and I fully expected them to, on first listen. Yet they defied my odds with Edge of the Abyss. Every song has a life all its own, refusing to repeat ideas or fall into genre tropes (no wasteful intro tracks here!). Perhaps this sounds silly, but there’s a scrappiness that translates through the music, a DIY ethos which, despite the modern production, empowers the band’s efforts. Calva Louise sound hungry on Edge of the Abyss, like a tenacious creature throwing everything it has at survival. I’m reminded of early efforts by acts like Slipknot and Mudvayne—not sonically, but spiritually. A vitriolic commitment to artistic vision, in defiance of outcome, is something I’ve long admired. That Calva Louise is four albums deep and able to conjure this kind of energy is delightful.

Like when I sat down recently to watch Marvel’s Thunderbolts*,¹ I stepped into Edge of the Abyss stuck somewhere between frayed hope and pre-loaded disappointment. So far, 2025 hasn’t been the best year for new metal releases; barring a handful of standouts, most of what I’ve heard has sat well within the “okay” to “decent” territory—and much like Marvel’s output of the last decade, I was starting to get a little numb to it all. Luckily for me, hope won the day on both accounts.² Calva Louise was far more than I expected, an energetic, multicultural detonation of influences with an origin story befitting a Stan Lee “Excelsior!” Full of twisting genre shifts, infectious melodies, and one of my favorite vocal performances of the year, Edge of the Abyss is a precipice I wholly recommend pitching oneself into.

Recommended tracks: Tunnel Vision, WTF, Aimless, Lo Que Vale, El Umbral, Hate In Me
You may also like: Knife Bride, The Defect, Reliqa, Bex
Final verdict: 9/10

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

Label: Mascot Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Calva Louise is:
– Jess Allanic (guitars, vocals)
– Ben Parker (drums)
– Alizon Taho (bass)
With guests:
– Mazare (electronics)

1. Yes, the asterisk is part of the title. If you know, you know. ︎
2.  Thunderbolts* was refreshingly good. ︎

The post Review: Calva Louise – Edge of the Abyss appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by: Marald van Haasteren

Style: Doom Metal, Alternative Metal (Clean Vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Alice in Chains, Baroness, Pallbearer
Country: New York, United States
Release date: 27 June 2025

This may upset some people, but I thought Alice In Chains’ mid-Aughts reformation yielded some of the band’s coolest work. Perhaps not anything remotely as eternal as “Man in the Box,” “Rooster,” or “Would?,” but the shift from dark, moody grunge to dark, moody, doom-inspired grooves and atmosphere on Black Gives Way to Blue (2009) and The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here (2013) was fucking sick. Furthermore, they helped propel me towards bands like Pallbearer and other purveyors of riff-forward heavy rock. Disappointingly, the William DuVall-era of Alice in Chains has seen little activity since 2018’s Rainier Fog. Luckily, Blood Vulture has swooped in to partake of Jerry Cantrell and the boys’ lunch.

Circling the skylines of New York, the titular Blood Vulture reveals itself as one Jordan Olds, host of YouTube talk show Two Minutes to Late Night and, apparently, omni-gifted musician. From the girthsome, riff-forward doom guitars, modern metalcore-flavored synthesizers, roiling bass, down to the eerie Jerry Cantrell-esque crooning and bellowing, Olds executes nearly every aspect of debut album Die Close. One-man projects are nothing new in the world of metal (black metal, especially, seems laden with bedroom conjurers). While undertaking such a project is, I think, deserving of some measure of applause out the gate, there runs the risk that such high-minded ambitions may outstrip the capacity of the practitioner. For every Midnight Odyssey, a thousand more Oksennus¹ (Oksenni?) exist, filling the void with noise. Olds, to his credit, appears to have sidestepped some of this auteur-minded hubris by stacking a sizable guest roster at his back. But is this enough to give Blood Vulture’s debut the wings needed to soar? Or is the folly of man destined to curse Die Close with Icarian luck?

I’ll not beat around the wing—er, bush: This album kicks ass. From the opening guitar line and creeping vocal motifs of “Die Close: Overture” (finally, an intro that warrants its existence!) to the last resplendent harmonies of “Die Close: Finale,” Blood Vulture spends forty-five minutes delivering delectable platters of slow-rolling, tectonic alternative metal skewed toward a darkly Gothic ethos about a vampire living out the last of his immortal days long after the death of Humanity. Thick yet nimble riffs drill through post-apocalyptic landscapes of thunderous drums and growling bass tones, synths glittering like snatches of starlight piercing smog-choked skies. Olds’ voice is rich and thrumming with a decadent power worthy of his centuries-old protagonist. Alongside the obvious Cantrell-canting, there’re nuggets of John Baizely (Baroness) lingering in his harmonies (“Die Close: Interlude”), and even flashes of Sumerlands’ Phil Swanson in the way his voice melds with the production, culminating in a mosaic of winsome sonic idents.

Musically, Die Close haunts the liminal space between the morbid emotionality of Alice in Chains and the heaving riff-roil and production-blasting of modern doom mavericks Pallbearer. Olds buries the listener in bone-churning, groove-laden guitars, like the plaintive howls of Mankind’s vengeful ghost echoing across this blasted necropolis called Earth. Moe Watson’s drumming is equally committed, pounding and bludgeoning whatever life remains, heavy as the footsteps of our doomed vampiric wayfarer—yet capable of breaking into bursts of potent energy when required (“An Embrace In The Flood,” “A Dream About Starving To Death,” “Grey Mourning”), striking out with stampeding double bass and frenzied ride cymbal strikes like a sudden onset of PTSD. Doom metal can sometimes wander into realms of navel gazing, keen to drill away at a riff or motif endlessly to the point where the proverbial horse is beyond beaten. Blood Vulture soars over this pitfall thanks to considerate track lengths and song structures designed around forward momentum. Guest contributions from the likes of Kristin Hayter (Reverend Kristin Michael Hayter, ex-Lingua Ignota), Brian Fair (Shadows Fall, Overcast, Hell Night, Downpour), and Jade Puget (AFI, Blaqk Audio, XTRMST) fit into Die Close’s architecture flawlessly, adding to the album’s layers of dark, tragic beauty. (Hayter on “Entwined” creates an absolute standout of a track, in particular, her gospel-like vocals the perfect partner to Olds’ resonant cleans.) Even the interludes, of which there are three, secure worthy positions thanks to how they return to and build upon what becomes the album’s central motif, with “Die Close: Finale” closing the story with the kind of sorrowful bombast worthy of a suffering immortal.

Another feather in Blood Vulture’s plumage is a far simpler (on paper), yet no less important matter—one that has oft-wounded many an ambitious band and, generally (for me), marred the very reputation of the vaunted concept album. Olds has managed to strike a fine balance between his narrative goals and musical musts. He never forgets that Die Close is an album. Not a book. Not a movie. An album, whose mission first and foremost must be to enrapture the listener with its sonic wiles. Lyrics, and storytelling by proxy, are necessary components to this configuration, but when Aristotelian directives override bardic needs with three-act fancies, there’s little to be salvaged from the experience. Barring the “Die Close” trifecta of interludes, any of Die Close’s seven proper tracks can stand strong in a playlist shuffle without blunting momentum or capsizing the story, as the narratives are nestled snugly within the ebb and flow of their parent songs.

Since Sleep Token dropped Even In Arcadia back in May, I have been wondering if there would be anything in 2025 to come along and grab me in any similar way. I’ve listened to more than a few fun records, but most have been missing some measure of that special sauce required to saturate my taste. Blood Vulture doesn’t entirely reach the same level of addictive listening—few things will, at least until Silent Planet drops a new album—but this has been the first record post-EIA that I’ve sat back and gone, “I don’t really have anything negative to say.” Maybe the production could be a little clearer at times—the bass tends to get lost amidst the ruckus, an affliction all too common within metal—but this is some of the grooviest, coolest stuff I’ve listened to all year. Olds (and his collaborators) must certainly be commended for dropping such a confident piece of work. I don’t know who in 2025 may be waiting for new Alice in Chains, but if you’re out there, fret not: Blood Vulture is here to fill the void, and then some.

Recommended tracks: A Dream About Starving To Death, Grey Mourning, Entwined, Die Close: Finale
You may also like: A Pale Horse Named Death, Hangman’s Choir
Final verdict: 8.5/10

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

Label: Pure Noise Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Blood Vulture is:
– Jordan Olds (vocals, guitars, bass, synthesizers)
With guests:
– Jade Puget (additional guitars on “Grey Mourning”)
– Kristin Hayter (additional vocals on “Entwined” and “Die Close: Finale”)
– Brian Fair (additional vocals on “Burn For It”)
– Moe Watson (drums)
– Gina Gleason (additional guitars on “Die Close: Interlude”, additional vocals on “Die Close: Finale”)
– Emily Lee (additional vocals on “Die Close: Finale”)
– Steve Brodsky (additional vocals on “Die Close: Finale”)
– Kayleigh Goldsworthy (violin on “Entwined,” “Die Close: Interlude,” and “Abomination”)

1. See Andy’s review of Auringolla Ei Ole Käsiä for details. ︎

The post Review: Blood Vulture – Die Close appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by: Albert Bierstadt (1868); Layout by: Annick Giroux

Style: Epic Doom Metal, Folk Metal, Heavy Metal (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Unleash the Archers, Cirith Ungol, Visigoth
Country: Illinois, United States
Release date: 27 June 2025

Growing up, I was all about fantasy, especially in my metal. Themes of wonder and romance, mythical beasts and steadfast warriors filled my imagination. Yet these days, I’ve found it harder and harder to connect with this formerly potent musical leyline. Call it a reflection of the times. I still love the bands I grew up with—the Kamelots, Symphony Xs, and Dios—and I’ve flirted with some newer makes and models (Unleash the Archers has done some fantastic work in the space). But, as we’ve marched closer towards dystopia, tales of adventure seem perhaps churlish compared to the angst and uncertainty permeating our modern world. Sauron is winning, and the Fellowship is splintered over a culture war.

Yet there’s a part of me that yearns to believe in heroes of might and magic once more. Which brings us to Chicagoan heavy metal warband, Fer de Lance (not to be confused with the Peruvian thrashers of the same name). Coming onto the scene only five years ago with their Colossus EP, and debut full-length The Hyperborean in 2022, the band have flown completely under my radar until now. They peddle in “epic doom”—basically, fantasy-fuelled, mid-paced heavy metal full of lurching, heroic riffs and deliberate kitwork, like a steadfast march towards glory and gold. Taken in by the gorgeous cover art of latest album, Fires on the Mountainside, and intrigued by the promise of the epic doom metal by which Fer de Lance mark their trade, I was eager to see if these mighty men of metal have what it takes to break the curse and return the fire to my fantasy-loving heart.

If ever there was a soundtrack to evoke the sword-and-sorcery, devil-may-care adventuring of Robert E. Howard’s brooding Cimmerian, Conan, and kindred ilk, Fires on the Mountainside makes a strong case for consideration. From minute one, opener (and title track) “Fires on the Mountainside” saunters forth with jaunty guitar and a bard-worthy chorus as frontman MP bellows “I seeee… fires on the mountainside,” tossing in some Woah-ohs for good measure. Flickers of black metal emerge in the bridge as trem-picking and rasped vocals create a sense of descent into danger, showcasing Fer de Lance’s ability to steer the material wherever the greatest adventure lies. At nearly thirteen minutes, “Fires on the Mountainside” is one hell of a way to kick off a record, as it twists and turns and climbs across subgenres, from rousing epic doom, black metal, and glints of folk in the acoustic-strummed guitars that underpin much of the proceedings. MP’s range is impressive as he plumbs the depths of rattling growls, tough-guy gravel, all the way to the high-fantasy heights of falsetto wails.

What follows across the album’s forty-nine minutes sees the band pull from much of the same arsenal—though like the aforementioned Conan, they’ve descended from their wind-swept kingdom well-versed in their chosen arts, as no two songs sound the same. Take “Fire & Gold” with its Western-infused musical gallop, hand tambourines and stomping drums heralding a lone stranger’s ride into the kind of town where violence and virtue may yet clash, the dusty road stained black with an enemy’s blood under the white-hot bake of high noon. The chorus of “Death Thrives (Where Walls Divide)” sees MP’s harshes hit a vicious cadence akin to Legion of the Damned frontman Maurice Swinkels, giving the song an extra dose of theatrical menace before shifting into Eastern-influenced guitar wizardry of a most fine kind. MP finds some Ronnie James Dio-adjacent power in the vocals on “The Feast of Echoes,” leaning into some fun “mhmmmhmms” that make me think of a testosterone-fueled version of Rainbow.¹

Elsewhere and everywhere, I’m reminded in small ways of Eternal Champion, mostly in the band’s full-fledged commitment to the material. Fires on the Mountainside is refreshing: Unlike some fantasy-themed bands who write with their tongues planted firmly through cheek (and thus dabbling in irony-poisoned cringe), Fer de Lance write and perform their music with an unabashed, shameless love for the fantasy genre—theatrical, yes, but taken seriously. The songs are rousing, with full-chested deliveries and a palpable energy, despite the more moderate pacing. My only real complaint about the album is that some of the songs drag on a tad too long, and after a while I tend to forget where I am on the record. This is the kind of album that would absolutely thrive on a playlist. The songs are replete with fun transitions showcasing the music’s textures, which provide each track with individual merit. Yet together, Fires on the Mountainside loses some of its energy, the blazing bonfire giving ground to the encroaching shadows of distraction. By the time we reach “Tempest Stele,” the storm has turned into more of a gust and my legs ache for want of resting.

All said, Fer de Lance have come out of (subjectively) nowhere to impart upon mine ears a winsome collection of epic tales. In a day and age where fantasy-themed metal has largely been relegated to my rearview, Fires on the Mountainside stands as a perfect reminder that there are still bands out there writing the kind of stuff I crave—and new ones, at that! Like my current reading experience with Robert E. Howard’s The Coming of Conan the Cimmerian, Fires on the Mountainside offers a collection of well-crafted gems worthy of uncovering—perhaps best individually, rather than in one fell swoop. If you’ve been starved for metal of a steelier order, or just on the lookout for something new, then heed that yonder firelight in the distance, and let Fer de Lance take you on a glorious adventure.

Recommended tracks: Fires on the Mountainside, Death Thrives (Where Walls Divide), The Feast of Echoes
You may also like: Eternal Champion, Sumerlands, Conan
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Cruz de Sur Music Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Fer de Lance is:
– Rüst (bass, acoustic guitars, vocals, percussion)
– MP (vocals, guitars, keyboards)
– Scud (drums, vocals)
– J. Geist (guitars)

1.  I would love to hear Fer de Lance cover “Gates of Babylon.” ︎

The post Review: Fer de Lance – Fires on the Mountainside appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by: Anja Curhalek

Style: Progressive Metal (Mixed vocals, mostly clean)
Recommended for fans of: Riverside, Porcupine Tree, Haken, Dream Theater, Mastodon
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: 27 June 2025

We live in times of great extremes. I know, I know—what a bold and challenging statement. “Thank you for enlightening us, o’ hallowed reviewer,” I hear you say, “Don’t you have a Sleep Token record to be glazing?” Yes, I do. But first, I have to craft an in for this review. Extremes: they are everywhere, pushed by immoral politicians and greedy draconian billionaires alike. One can’t scroll five seconds on YouTube without being assaulted by clear evidence of the matter; everywhere, reaction channels gobble up the latest controversy, news, trends, horror, et cetera, reducing often complex scenarios to grift-minded notions of black and white. Nuance, like the dodo, has flung itself mightily from the cliffs of reason, choosing extinction over the existential nightmare Humanity has hatched for itself. Yet, for all my lamenting nuance’s ignoble end at the hands of hot-takers and corpo-grifters, there is an undeniable “red tape” surrounding it. And when the world is on fire and no one’s listening, sometimes there just isn’t time for artful conversation. When things are desperate, you can’t necessarily risk the message going over peoples’ heads.

Sometimes, you just gotta spell it out, like colorful alphabet magnets arranged upon the refrigerator door of our collective ignorance.

Enter UK multi-instrumentalist Grace Hayhurst. After six years of singles and EPs under the eponymous Grace Hayhurst, The World Is Dying represents her debut full-length, a near-hour’s worth of progressive rock / metal replete with introspective and adventurous guitar alike pattering across sonorous beds of classical piano and swirling synth keys that add flavors of 80s Rush and Symphony X’s neoclassical era. Energetic kitwork by long-time contributor Robin Johnson (Kyros) rounds out Hayhurst’s sound. For the first time in her budding career, Hayhurst brings her voice to the table as well, offering a straightforward indictment as she runs through a venerable Litany of Disasters and Failings on “The World is Dying,” before proclaiming “the world is dying and it’s our fault.” Prog has its muscles, of course, a capacity to tap into somber subject material. Yet often bands will lean into the poetic, the suggestive, when it comes to lyrics, seeking a safe artistic middle ground rather than go right to the throat of the matter. Grace Hayhurst has chosen the path of least resistance on The World Is Dying—but presentation matters much as the message does, maybe more so when dealing with music. Does she get the point across with verve? Or is she stuck screaming into a void?

Let’s start with the good: the music. Hayhurst acquits herself with general aplomb across the entirety of The World Is Dying, showcasing a fine ear for rhythm, melody, and composition. Her guitar shifts from crunchy, driving riffs, searching, Nick Johnston-esque lines, and bouncy prog grooves with nary a sweat. Keys create a fertile bed of mood and atmosphere, often tapping into the album’s darkest and most playful moments alike. The bass, while more suppressed in the mix than I’d like, nonetheless rolls about with purpose when presenting itself, possessed of a warm, buoyant tone that, in cooperation with the resonant piano skirmishes and Johnson’s lively percussions, gives The World Is Dying a jazzy flair and infectious kineticism that had me drawing sonic leylines to fellow UK progsters, Exploring Birdsong. Tracks ebb and flow smoothly across ideas and transitions; take “Our Forest, The Earth,” for example, moving from moody buildup of tribal drums and desolate guitar / bass, before a warbling synth line winds like a fuse before detonating into a jaunty rundown of prog-rock fun, including a soft detour into Tool and Gunship-flavored territory along the bridge as the opening motif returns, only to unfurl in new directions.

However, not everything in The World Is Dying pulls through unscathed. While almost every track offers measures of classical beauty and modern prog-madness, some additions struggle to manifest in winsome ways. While “Revolution’s” transition into baroque doom is pretty cool, as are the initial Sadness-coded black metal rasps accompanying the shift, the rasps take on a cartoonish, almost Donald Duck-vibe that completely jettisoned me from the otherwise good time I was having. And, sadly, that extends to the vocals as a whole. There’s a theatricality to Hayhurst’s breathy falsetto that, like Geddy Lee’s alien screeching on early Rush releases, has the potential to align with the music’s bombastic aims. Unlike Lee, however, Hayhurst’s singing lacks power, range, and finesse, often coming across like a karaoke performance. When used purely for vocalization, her approach works decently enough at bolstering atmosphere (as on parts of “And It’s Our Fault,” “Take Off,” or “Armistice”). But there’s no working around that her voice stands as The World Is Dying’s weakest link, disruptive to the otherwise pleasant instrumentation. Clarity also becomes an issue: whether the vocals’ placement in the mix, her style, or both, lyrics are often hard to parse—an issue when messaging is such a concern.

Attempting vocals overall after focusing largely on instrumental-only material showcases a measure of resolve on the part of Hayhurst that should be commended; clearly, she felt this material would benefit from lyrics, and I’m inclined to agree. However, while repeat listens have afforded me the time to hear how her singing fits into the overall architecture of the songs, first-time listeners run the risk of being shunted clear out of the experience. This is a shame, because Hayhurst certainly has an ear for how vocals can be slotted into her music, with the chops to compose and execute solid, fun prog tunes—and pace them, too. Despite nearly striking the hour’s toll, The World Is Dying avoids listener fatigue by virtue of every track (sans the pointless “Prologue,” “Armistice,” and closer “Absent Futures”) being chock-full of sonic evolutions and exuberant performances. If the vocal problem can be solved (perhaps by passing that particular set of reins to an outside source, as with the drumming), then I think a future release would have the legs needed to make a stand. Of course, she could also return to her instrumental roots, instead. However, Hayhurst has proven to have the mettle necessary to learn and grow to meet her artistic aspirations; this is simply another hurdle for her to clear. So, the world may be dying, and yeah, it’s our fault, but life is hardly over.

Recommended tracks: The World is Dying, Our Forest, The Earth, Revolution
You may also like: Exploring Birdsong, Temic, Althea, Haven of Echoes
Final verdict: 4/10

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

Label: Independent

Grace Hayhurst is:
– Grace Hayhurst (guitars, bass, keyboards, piano, vocals)
With guests:
– Robin Johnson (drums)

The post Review: Grace Hayhurst – The World Is Dying appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by: Eirini Grammenou

Style: Progressive Metalcore (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Erra, Silent Planet, Thornhill (The Dark Pool), Polaris, Currents
Country: Greece
Release date: 30 May 2025

Little time was lost by my colleagues when it came to sniffing out facets of my musical inclinations. Some sides of a stone sparkle brighter than others, after all. As a result of their sleuthing, I’ve been dubbed “the metalcore guy;” a badge some may wear with shame, yet one I proudly present to the world. Works like Sempiternal (Bring Me The Horizon), The Death of Peace of Mind (Bad Omens), and Silent Planet’s entire discography rank amongst some of my favorite albums. There’s something activating about the dichotomy of hefty angst and (often) uplifting choruses, that vein of emotionality which inform the genre. Oh, and the breakdowns, of course. One can’t overlook a great, neck-snapping, back-throwing breakdown. I was thus presented with a recommendation: The Longing Light, debut EP from progressive metalcore newbies Nonlinear. Being the metalcore guy that I am, I accepted.

First things first. Please, oh please for the love of all that is right and good in this world, stop with the instrumental / ambient opening tracks. This is an issue that plagues more than metalcore, an infection of the wider metalsphere, and few are the bands who can properly justify the inclusion. EPs, by their very nature, offer limited listening capacity, and to waste one of those precious slots on such needless aurafarming veers close to criminal. I could overlook it if “Awakening” segued into list mate “Monochrome Chamber,” but it doesn’t. Instead, “Monochrome Chamber” hits reset on The Longing Light’s flow, offering up decidedly Silent Planet-flavored synths alongside a central riff that bends and skips like something out of the pre-Iridescent days. It’s a cool opening for a song, and feels far more natural than “Awakening.”

That said, what surprised me about Nonlinear is their ability to pull from a variety of different styles within the metalcore world. Most notably, The Longing Light features warping Silent Planet riffs and breakdowns (“Monochrome Chamber,” “The Longing Light”), uplifting pop-centered hooks and guitars à la early Polaris (“Reflections”), and the interplay between the roiling harshes and ethereal cleans courtesy of Erra. The record even features a trip hop-inspired instrumental at the midway point that calls to mind Post Human-era Bring Me The Horizon. And while this represents something of an identity crisis for the group, their newness cannot be overlooked. Hewing to influences is natural; metal of all stripes has been cannibalizing and laterally reproducing since pretty much its inception. Whether Nonlinear can shape these elements into something more recognizably their own is something only time can be sure of.

Where difficulties lie ahead, I fear, is less with appropriation of sound and more in the execution. To be clear, none of the performances here are bad, but neither are they activating in that special way great metalcore can be. The harsh vocals, while occasionally spicing things up with a good “blegh!” and a snarl here and there, come across rather one-dimensional and forced in their toughness, while the thinness of the cleans strip them of any real power. Yet, on “Reflections,” both approaches feel empowered by the Polaris-coded aesthetics in ways they struggle to provide on most of The Longing Light’s scant twenty-two minutes. Similarly, the music never really finds the hooks needed to grab the listener. “Reflections” probably comes closest, especially when it transitions from an introspective bridge into an ascendant closing moment as the drums build into a rumbling gallop around heaven-sent vocalization. Oddly enough, “Holding On” finds similar legs to stand on, despite being a short-lived instrumental; the trip hop groove and pulse-y synths forge an easy rhythm and vibe to settle into. “The Longing Light” seeks heartstring territory with its searching cleans, think-space carving breakdown, and writhing guitars, but never quite manages to pull off the sense of emotional authenticity required to succeed.

Nonlinear are trapped in a bit of an odd quandary. On one hand, their ability to incorporate various flavors of metalcore into their sound is admirable. But on the other, the band are perhaps using these sounds as crutches to hold up songwriting which otherwise lacks the necessary kung-fu grip. I’m a firm believer that iteration sits above originality when it comes to artistic pursuits. However, Nonlinear have yet to escape the shadows of their perceived influences and fully step into the light they long for, relying too much on recognizable moments to help them color within the lines of this largely paint-by-numbers sound. At the end of the day, The Longing Light is perfectly fine, but hardly essential. Luckily, Nonlinear have plenty of time to hone their craft. I have faith. After all, Bad Omens transitioned from a Bring Me The Horizon clone to writing The Death of Peace of Mind. Never say never. Keep looking for that light.

Recommended tracks: Reflections, Holding On, The Longing Light
You may also like: Save Your Last Breath, Artemis Rising, Simbulis
Final verdict: 5/10

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

Label: Independent

Nonlinear is:
– Konstantinos Chitas (clean vocals, guitar)
– Nikos Koudounas (bass)
– Alexander Louropoulos (guitar)
– Christos Papakonstantinou (drums)
– George Plaskasovitis (vocals)
With guests:
– Vrodex (feat. on “Holding On”)

The post Review: Nonlinear – The Longing Light appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by: Dmitry Rogatnev

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Artwork by: Benjamin König

Style: Atmospheric Black Metal, Doom Metal, Psychedelic Folk (Mixed vocals, mostly clean)
Recommended for fans of: Alcest, Myrkur, Opeth, Panopticon, Primordial, Ulver
Country: Finland
Release date: 13 June 2025

A fun fact about me: I love a fun ghost / skeleton / creepy homie on some cover art. The crimson bone-buddy getting his bask on fronting The Last Ten Seconds of Life’s Soulless Hymns, Revocation’s spoopy tomb gracing Deathless, The Tritonus SkeleBell dominating Hooded Menace’s sixth LP; each one factored heavily into my listening interest. For as much as the music has the final say, never, ever underestimate the power of an attention-grabbing album cover. Maybe it matters less these days with the popularity of auto-shuffles and (probably AI-generated) playlists, but for me, careening towards middle-age and still fond of making record store hauls, artwork is the first thing I experience before ever considering “play.” And the best artwork often tells us something about what we’re getting into, a sort of visual preview of the aural secrets about to be uncovered.

So, when Nocturne—the seventh release by Finnish atmoblack doomsters Hexvessel—was recommended to me, I took one look at the ghosty fellow casting the ol’ “spectral sprinkle” over that sleepy, snow-capped hamlet isolated amidst a moody charcoal expanse and knew I had to give the album my time. Unfamiliar with Hexvessel and their oeuvre but with all my folk / black metal radars going off, I was eager to see if Nocturne’s musical offerings proved as winsome as the endearingly dreary (endrearing?) artwork. Or would this zesty spectre leave me dusted with disappointment? Grab your soul salt shakers, and let’s have a taste, shall we?

What struck me almost immediately upon firing up Nocturne (aside from the frustratingly ubiquitous practice of pointless openers in metal—titled “Opening,” no less) was how interrelated the music and artwork feel. Songs roll over the horizon like ghostly clouds, sketched in rainy-day hazes of fuzzed guitars, sprinkling in delicately-plucked folk acoustics amidst the ebb and flow of roiling black metal tremolos and hail-storm blast beats. Glimmers of death-and-roll cut through the gray on tracks like “Inward Landscapes,” adding spurts of energy to the haunting, often funereal backdrop of wailing guitars, doleful bells, and ritual-esque timbre of vocalists Mat Kvohst McNerney and Saara Nevalainen. Baleful synths carve out images of forlorn worship houses from the formless charcoal landscape (“A Dark and Graceful Wilderness”), wherein one could imagine frightened villagers huddling, seeking some measure of safety as this leering spectre drifts, steadfast and resolute, across their homes—I’m reminded of Count Orlok’s shadow falling upon Wisborg in Robert Eggers’ Gothic masterwork, Nosferatu (2024). Supplying terror not through red-teethed violence, but rather via sheer enveloping presence.

There is a mournful, otherworldly quality to Nocturne’s atmospheric blackened folk, especially in softer cuts like “Concealed Descent,” where morose acoustic guitar and violin take center stage alongside McNerney’s wistful cleans. The paganic dirge of “Unworld,” with its lurching, Brave Murder Day-era Katatonia opening riff, chanted vocalizations, and smoky heft, constructs notions of grandeur in decay; this small storied town, perhaps built upon the bones of ancient edifices, sundered by slicing winds of black metal aggression amidst the deliberate marching of funeral doom aesthetics. By the time closer “Phoebus” blows through, there’s nothing left, our spectral harbinger having folded man’s scaffolding back into the architecture of the (other)natural world. In many ways, I’m brought to the doorstep of Panopticon’s folk / black metal crossroads, except replace twangy americana with the dreamy plucking that seems to signify Finnish folk,¹ then toss in some slow and dolorous doom vibes for added flavor. Hexvessel have set out with a particular sonic palette and aesthetic in mind, and they do nothing to disturb it across Nocturne’s near-hour of play.

Which brings us to perhaps my only true gripe about Nocturne: like Spectral Bae closing in to sprinkle the town with his damnedruff, Hexvessel’s assemblage of fuzzy, doomed-out atmoblack tunes have a tendency to drift across the consciousness. Multiple times, I lost track of where I was in the album, lulled by a particular folky moment or vibed-out bridge before being shocked back into awareness by one of McNerney’s intermittent harsh cries or an equally intermittent energetic drum run. Sometimes, I found myself halfway across the album; other times, still wrapped in the ashen folds of a longer thread (“Sapphire Zephyrs,” “Inward Landscapes,” “Mother Destroyer”). This makes the album something of an “easy” listen, a record to throw on and just chill out to, despite the large swaths of razoring guitars and blasting snares. Lacking measures of more “conventional” structures, this is hardly an album to inspire sing-alongs, or even headbanging. There are no real central riffs, no sense of verse-chorus-verse dynamics for a listener to grab on to. This lends Nocturne an organic quality, affording a pleasantness to the experience—a dream-like effect—even if I’m often left struggling to remember where I was in the aftermath. More mood-setting than neck-snapping.

Fans of groups like Enisum, or fellow Prophecy partners Ceresian Valot will certainly find much to enjoy about Nocturne. Hexvessel thrum with the kind of naturalism that tends to lurk, perhaps overlooked, in black metal; everyone remembers the church burnings, the edginess, but this genre has been more than religion-bashing, murder, and hate crimes across its many storied decades. Nocturne, with its gloomy moods and pagan, almost druidic nature vibes, represents one of my favorite breeds of black metal. More about the journey than any singular sonic destination, Hexvessel’s latest may struggle to maintain my full attention at times, but there’s something to be said for the kind of album you can just… float away on. A fine dusting, indeed.

Recommended tracks: Unworld, Phoebus, A Dark and Graceful Wilderness
You may also like: Blood Ceremony, Ceresian Valot, Enisum, Nechochwen, Wolvennest
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Prophecy Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Hexvessel is:
– Mat Kvohst McNerney (vocals, guitars, songwriting)
– Kimmo Helén (piano, keyboards, strings, guitars)
– Jukka Rämänen (drums, percussion)
– Ville Hakonen (bass)
With guests:
– Aleksi Kiiskilä (lead guitars)
– Saara Nevalainen (female vocals)
– Yusaf Vicotnik Parvez (lead vocals, “Unworld”)
– Juho Vanhanen (backing vocals, “Phoebus”)

1.  Assuming Finnish folk sounds like the kind Finnish metal bands employ. ︎

The post Review: Hexvessel – Nocturne appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by: Vojtěch Doubek / Moonroot Art

Style: Progressive Sludge Metal, Melodic Death Metal (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Mastodon, Gojira, Tool, Baroness
Country: Sweden
Release date: 16 May 2025

Some words just hit different. We hear them and our minds are transported immediately to the far fields of imagination. “Gigafauna” is one such word for me. Whether I speak it, hear it, read it, or even think it, my mind’s eye alights upon creatures of infinite scale; sometimes describable (Godzilla), other times possessed of such nightmarish configurations as to defy all manner of human logic and reason (think Lovecraft’s non-euclidean treasure trove of horrors). Shearing through the gravity of worlds with lumbering tread, stars falling cold under their shadows. Immeasurable in might, unknowable of purpose, their very designs eschatonic in nature. To conjure even the idea of such a lifeform cements a sort of existential calamity for Humanity; in the wake of such an unfathomably colossal entity we would be but ants—smaller, even. Our great achievements, all the collective strength and technological power would do little but delay the inevitable snuffing of our flame. Faced with the incomprehensible, we would be forced to turn inward, a final reckoning with our very selves. The only victory left within our grasp.

Likewise, Swedish outfit Gigafauna lumbered into my awareness with the suitably eye-catching (and eldritch) album art for their sophomore LP, Eye to Windward. Proper to their namesake, the band proclaim to be treading through some hefty subject matter, including “environmental decay, existential dread, and the search for meaning beyond the confines of time and space.” And what better way to do so than via the conduits of sludge and melodic death metal, two genres capable of tectonic heft and grand, driving compositions alike. Having no prior encounters with this particular lifeform, I was excited to trawl in the wake of Gigafauna’s passage. Let’s see what we’ll uncover on this tenebrous safari.

Gigafauna delight in a forward-moving blend of sludge and melodeath; thick yet nimble riffs spiral around dexterous kitwork and a grumbling low-end, often signaling their approach well before vocalist Matt Greig’s arsenal of resonant cleans and surprisingly hefty growls hits the eardrums. The band crash through the metal undergrowth at a persistent clip, keen to reach their destination yet hardly afraid to make time for some detours along the way. Listen to “Drowning Light,” where stampeding Mastodon energy falls away to the kind of abrasively inquisitive guitar and bouncy tribal drumming that would feel at home in a 10,000 Days-era Tool track. Or the Gojira-esque grind-and-squeal guitar which dominates the main riff in “Pyres,” even as the track expands to include discordant soloing a’la Meshuggah before morphing again into an almost early aughts metalcore passage as Greig screams “God chose me!” The band whip together Amon Amarth melodeath with Avenged Sevenfold-flavored guitar lines on cuts like “Plagued” to create a slab of burly grandiosity that ends on an almost Primordial note.

Like a musical Man o’ War jellyfish—a creature composed of multitudes of separate organisms operating as a singular whole—Gigafauna pull these disparate sonic qualities into a symbiotic relationship, resulting in a majestic entity possessed of a maximal grace despite their gargantuan stature. Transitions between elements are seamless, yet never lose sight of nor erode a track’s original destination. Unlike the Man o’ War, carried across the sea on the whims of the wind, Gigafauna are unbowed by external forces. Eye to Windward represents a band in full control of their journey. Songs move with purpose, driven by the Almighty Riff, refusing to collapse into overwrought diatribes in favor of tight, consistent songwriting, and propelled by a punchy mix that adds considerable reach to every slick tendril of Gigafauna’s cosmic form.

But Gigafauna don’t quite have that mystic X-factor that takes good music to great and beyond. Perhaps it’s a matter of the sonic whole failing to rise above my storied connection to its many constituent parts. The aforementioned Tool-inspired bridge of “Drowning Light,” or the Gojira-isms lurking in “Pyres” and the closing moments of “Vessel,” for example; each stands strong as a solid element, yet fails to manifest the same kind of hypnotic pull as an actual Tool or Gojira. Perhaps that’s partially due to my long-standing history with those acts, whereas Gigafauna is new (though I’ve certainly been accused of recency bias, too). Regardless, I think that these “nameable” slices of Gigafauna’s aural makeup presenting as the most memorable, while the whole which they comprise cannot fully strike up a permanent residence in my brain, says enough as to why Eye to Windward falls just shy of ascending to greater form.

But that’s the thing about a journey: it needn’t always be new to feel exciting or satisfying. As I conclude my safari alongside this Gigafauna, stepping out from under its titanic shadow to rejoin the rest of the world in the sun, I must confess to this feeling of satisfaction. Though we may see in the celestial Gigafauna measures of terrestrial familiarity, that does not make them any less worthy of our attention. And should the earth tremble and the heavens quake beneath their returning tread, rest assured I’ll be there to walk bestride them once more, eager to hear what new stories they bring us from beyond the stars.

Recommended tracks: Plagued, Beneath Sun and Sky, Pyres, Drowning Light
You may also like: Dimhall, Void King, Blood Vulture
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Independent

Gigafauna is:
– Jens Ljungberg (bass)
– Rickard Engstrom (drums)
– Arved Nyden (guitars)
– Matt Greig (guitars, vocals)

The post Review: Gigafauna – Eye to Windward appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

No artist credited

Style: Doom Metal, Progressive Metal (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Ghost Brigade, Sunride, In The Woods…, Lunatic Soul
Country: Finland
Release date: 23 May 2025

One of the best pieces of advice I’ve picked up in my years as a critical assessor for fiction manuscripts¹ is that a work should be reviewed for what it is or tries to be, rather than what you want it to be. For example, when my dad first watched The Mummy (1999), he hated it because he expected a horror film. Once he accepted the movie for what it was trying to be—an action-horror comedy—he ended up enjoying it. This is a philosophy I’ve tried to carry over in my various creative engagements, whether that’s with movies, music, or video games, and one I’d like to think I’ve been fairly successful with in my critiques. However, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have expectations of my own when I saw that former members of Ghost Brigade had formed a new band.

For those unaware, Ghost Brigade were a much-beloved Finnish melodic death/doom band who released four albums between 2009-2014, then promptly went on hiatus before permanently disbanding in 2020. Their third LP, Until Fear No Longer Defines Us, remains my one and only experience with them—a muscular brew of gloomy doom and deliberate melodeath—but it was potent enough that seeing the name “Ghost Brigade” associated with this new venture was sufficient to stoke interest in me. Thus we arrive at Ceresian Valot and their debut Uumen—Finnish for “depths.” Let’s go spelunking, shall we?

Within moments of hearing opener “Ajattomuus / Rajattomuus,” wisps of Until Fear No Longer Defines Us’ doleful menace haunt the grounds on which Ceresian Valot tread, mostly in the mournful extended guitar lines, methodical yet flourishing drumwork, and the atmosphere of thoughtful melancholia that settles over the track like a hazy graveyard mist. As we wind into a soft electronic backbeat and clean vocals (sung entirely in Finnish, across the album), however, Ceresian Valot begin to reveal their layers. Uumen eschews melodeath entirely in favor of a folkier, more ambient approach defined by gentle looping guitars, often sharing space with the light fluttering of electronic percussion. The acoustic drums provide much of the album’s punch, partially due to their placement in the mix, securing the album’s mid-tempo thrum alongside the bigger riffs. Notes of Lunatic Soul texture the synth work (“Taivaankatsoja,” “Uumen”), standing in as a quick vector for the album’s light Gothic haze.

When the guitars take a more central and metallic role (“Pohjavirtauksia,” “Karavaaniseralji,” sections of “Ajattomuus / Rajattomuus”), Uumen shows its teeth, establishing a strong sense of groove and rhythm, practically lassoing one’s neck and forcing it into a lurching bang. The electronic elements also feel the most empowered here, laying themselves out as a velvet drape upon which the guitars can carve out fresh shapes of measured aggression and doleful melodies. Alternatively, cuts like “Uumen” and “Hyoky” present something of a musical dead-end; anemic electro-beats and thin cleans operating as interludes to Uumen’s more impassioned (and lengthy) pieces. Their inclusion might feel more inspired were the album keen to draw on harsher elements. With more aggression flowing in the mix, this would create a palatable necessity for such ambient detours. Stacked against the comparatively lighter—and dronier—touches of Uumen’s chosen aesthetic, however, I’m not entirely sold on their inclusion.

That said, as mentioned, it’s important to try and take things at the value by which they wish to sell themselves. Ceresian Valot are not Ghost Brigade, nor are they particularly interested in being so. Yes, there are notes of that former band lurking around, but I believe this says more about the associated members’ style and internalized approaches than any active effort to resuscitate their previous sonic adventures. Uumen, according to the band, stands as “dynamic and multidimensional with a broad range of sound and vision [including] alternative, rock, progressive, and various genres of metal.” Which brings me to a different issue, connected entirely to Uumen’s ambitions. In book reviewing, I’ve learned that the more “awards” a book touts in its marketing copy, the higher chance the content will be poor. Likewise, I’ve learned to read band promos with a similar level of wariness. Thankfully, Uumen is hardly a bad album—in fact, I’ve found it rather pleasant to listen to, its vibes decidedly relaxing despite (or perhaps because of) their melancholic intentions. I just think the band’s aims have outpaced the album’s reach, is all. Uumen is a doom metal album, feathered with touches of folk and echoes of electronica to help secure its progressive tagging. Pick any of the non-interlude tracks off the album, and you’ll have experienced all the strata of Uumen. Moody, driving riffs; mournful guitar lines; dreamscape electronics; punchy, methodical drums; all wrapped around clean vocals that never really move the needle off of “gentle.”

And you know what? I’m fine with that. Do I wish Uumen were more of what made Until Fear No Longer Defines Us so special to me? Sure, absolutely. I miss the interplay between Ghost Brigade’s deep, melodramatic cleans and monstrous growls. The way the heavy melodeath riffs and thundering kitwork instilled a sense of urgency and danger—and just pure Gothic epicness—to everything. Ceresian Valot seek a more introspective route. And while the decision to root the lyrics in Finnish might harm my ability to read into the accuracy of that approach, I respect that the band wanted to try something different from what (most of) them had created before. Uumen may not be a perfect album—it’s a tad one-dimensional, the vocals are underwhelming, and the programmed bits struggle to justify themselves in meaningful ways—but I can’t sit here and act like I didn’t glean enjoyment from what it wanted to be. What it was: forty-four minutes of chilled-out Gothic doom.

Recommended tracks: Taivaankatsoja, Karavaaniseralji, Valojuovat, Pohjavirtauksia
You may also like: Church of the Sea, Error Theory, Year of the Cobra, Hermyth
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Prophecy Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Ceresian Valot is:
– Ville Angervuori (bass)
– Wille Naukkarinen (guitar, programming)
– Panu Perkiömäki (vocals)
– Veli-Matti Suihkonen (drums, percussion)
– Joni Vanhanen (keyboards, vocals, programming)
– Tapio Vartiainen (guitar)

1.  A fancy way to say “book reviewer” ︎

The post Review: Ceresian Valot – Uumen appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by: Peter Mohrbacher

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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