Album art by Matt Harvey

Style: Post-rock, post-metal (instrumental)
Recommended for fans of: Godspeed You! Black Emperor, This Will Destroy You, Explosions in the Sky
Country: Australia
Release date: 4 July 2025

Post-rock is a genre whose appeal has always seemed to me to be obvious on paper, but elusive in practice. In theory, a genre built upon methodical, building soundscapes that layer textures upon textures until they crest in a wave of emotional catharsis would be an easy sell for someone with my generally high tolerance for long-form musical endeavors and weakness for big, climactic crescendos. Yet in practice, so many bands in the genre end up feeling like they’re lost in an aimless, hookless limbo, slowly and dutifully turning the volume knob up and down enough to serve as decent-enough background music but never managing to feel like their glacial compositions are truly saying anything. The instrumental nature of much of the genre also can prove challenging – without the facile aid of lyrics to tell audiences what a song is getting at, artists are left to paint a far more abstract picture, a hazy melange of soundscapes that needs a great deal of compositional finesse and intentionality to truly convey anything meaningful. 

Of course, there are other ways to shortcut this issue – a band could, say, utilize spoken word audio samples as a means of grounding their compositions as the soundtrack to true stories of harrowing loss and sacrifice. And indeed, after the tragic passing of frontman Chris Torpy, Sydney post-rock ensemble We Lost the Sea took this very approach for their pivot into instrumental music on 2015’s Departure Songs, a bleak yet fiercely hopeful record that would be swiftly enshrined as one of the most essential albums in the genre. Yet such a potent hook only works once, and after follow-up concept album Triumph & Disaster was met with rather less rapturous reception, it became clear that returning to that level of gut-punching catharsis would be easier said than done. And now, after nearly six years, We Lost the Sea have finally returned with A Single Flower, another massive opus that largely sheds its predecessors’ explicit narratives in favor of a more abstract theme of beauty amidst tragedy. Has this lengthy development period produced another classic of the genre, or is this flower destined to wilt away like so many others?

To be honest, it took a few spins of this album for me to be sure of the answer. Don’t get me wrong, the level of sheer skill and craftsmanship on display here is obvious from the very first listen. From the way opener “If They Had Hearts” gradually develops its simple motif from a sparse, floaty guitar into a roaring post-metal tempest to the insistent, heartbeat-to-cacophony build of “Everything Here Is Black and Blinding”, it’s clear that We Lost the Sea know their way around the sacred art of the post-rock crescendo. The soundscapes here have also been crafted with incredible care and precision – every dynamic peak is led by a titanic trio of guitars (plus keyboard) loaded to high heaven with an arsenal of effects pedals, every valley built from minimalistic, echoey clean picking and layers of soft, sun-dappled synths. New drummer Alasdair Belling is particularly integral in driving the music forward, his precise, heart-thumping rhythmic pulse evolving expertly into intricate, kit-smashing beatdowns that spice up every climax without losing their impeccable pocket. But plenty of albums can be skillfully constructed, can pull off big dynamics and intricate arrangements with competence and professionalism, and still fail to fully land. What is that extra factor, that ineffable je ne sais quoi, that made my reaction to A Single Flower evolve from “Huh, this is some pretty well executed post-rock” to “Holy shit, why is this music making my hands quiver and my breath catch in my chest?”

Well, if I could easily put it in words, that je wouldn’t be very ne sais quoi, now would it? The old saying about music criticism being like “dancing about architecture” holds particularly true with music this abstract. But if I were to put a finger on it, I would have to say that it’s the expertly considered pacing and composition that put it over the edge. These pieces develop and evolve their central motifs with a sense of intentionality and motion that few other post-rock acts can match. Sometimes it’s just one big crescendo (“If They Had Hearts”), but more often these tracks, particularly epics like “Bloom (Murmurations at First Light)” and “Blood Will Have Blood”, justify their sprawling lengths via expert dynamic push and pull, recontextualizing soft, vulnerable melodies into cinematic, overwhelmingly emotional counterpoint. Every new musical layer and bit of tension stacks onto the track like a stone until what was once soft and feather-light becomes a nigh-unbearable pressure upon the listener’s spirit, yet like a modern-day Giles Corey, I simply keep asking for more weight. Then, when the pressure abruptly releases, there’s a sense of deep relief, of finally being able to breathe again, that invites the listener to look at the moments of simplicity and calm between life’s many moments of tension in a new light. 

This is ordinarily where I’d list my gripes with the album, but honestly there aren’t enough to fill a full paragraph. I suppose the production could be polarizing to some; while its fuzzy, bass-forward sound is excellent at conveying the compositions’ darker and more oppressive moments, fans of the twinklier side of things will find themselves wishing for a less muddy mix with more clarity in its highs. And I’ve seen some mixed opinions on the brief “jig” section on “Blood Will Have Blood”, but I honestly think it’s great – its major key and shuffle rhythm radiate a sense of defiant positivity, of looking one’s demons in the eye and dancing them away. 

My biggest issue with A Single Flower, then, has nothing to do with its quality, but how long it took me to appreciate it. Simply put, this is not the most immediately accessible album in the world. It’s an album that requires a certain headspace and level of immersion to truly get lost in as opposed to simply floating by in the background, and with its hefty 70-minute runtime, recommending that you not only listen through something this sizable but give it multiple spins if it doesn’t land is one hell of an order. Is “The Gloaming” a heartwrenchingly gorgeous, cinematic interlude whose string arrangements call forth grief and determination in equal measure, or is it a mere throwaway, a decent-but-cliched soft passage taken straight from the “Make People Sad” course in Film Score 101? Is “Blood Will Have Blood” a fantastic, sweeping epic whose sense of dynamic push and pull makes its 28 minutes fly by, or is it simply too damn long and in need of a major trim? Obviously I agree with the former proposition in both these hypothetical questions now, but the more lukewarm side was in charge during my first listen, and it might be for anyone I point towards this album as well.

Don’t get me wrong, I consider A Single Flower to be an excellent work, a harrowing yet resolutely optimistic album laden with melodies that feel as though they’re blooming and decaying all at once. Yet, if just one flower blooms in a sea of desolation, its stark beauty will go unnoticed by anyone simply scanning the horizon. But if one focuses in on the barren wastelands, if one looks closely enough at the banal darkness surrounding our existences, there’s often quietly resolute spots of beauty, solitary flowers of light pushing through the darkness. All you need to do is keep searching for it.

Recommended tracks: A Dance With Death, Bloom (Murmurations at First Light), Blood Will Have Blood
You may also like: Bruit ≤, Deriva, Fall of Leviathan
Final verdict: 8.5/10

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

Label: Bird’s Robe Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

We Lost the Sea is:
– Mark Owen (guitars, piano)
– Matt Harvey (guitars, noise)
– Carl Whitbread (guitars)
– Matthew Kelly (piano, synth, rhodes)
– Kieran Elliott (bass)
– Alasdair Belling (drums)
With guests:
– Sophie Trudeau (strings on “The Gloaming”)

The post Review: We Lost the Sea – A Single Flower appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: symphonic rock, progressive rock, psychedelic rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Electric Light Orchestra, The Grateful Dead, The Beatles, Love, Supertramp, Motorpsycho
Country: Australia
Release date: 13 June 2025

Twenty-seven studio albums in a plethora of genres within thirteen years—and no sign of stopping. That is the modus operandi of King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard. The genre-hopping gimmick and incomprehensible prolificness have netted the Aussie sextet an absolutely massive cult following as their work ethic and (apparently) riotously fun live act have captured the hearts of terminally online music nerds and casuals alike. On the Gizzy Lizzy’s newest record, Phantom Island, the group has attempted something new stylistically yet again: orchestration.

Originally written and recorded alongside 2024’s Gizzard version of boogie rock (Flight b741)—remnants of which remain in the new record—Phantom Island was deemed incomplete by the band, who enlisted Chad Kelly to compose orchestrations to be superimposed atop the original studio tracks. The result is energetic symphonic and progressive pop/rock, similar to Electric Light Orchestra. Blaring brass and uptempo hand drums create a full soundscape at the expense of drowning the listener in its cheesy outdatedness of Phantom Island’s tone (“Deadstick,” “Eternal Return,” “Panpsych”). Vocal harmonies straight out of the late 60s crop up all over the place (“Eternal Return,” “Aerodynamic, “Sea of Doubt”). Unfortunately, when frontman Stu Mackenzie takes sole vocal responsibilities, he has a tendency to slide into a grating, unrefined falsetto (“Deadstick,” “Silent Spirit,” “Grow Wings and Fly”) that feels out of place with the prettier orchestral arrangements on Phantom Island.

Chad Kelly and the Wizardy Lizardys’ arranging skills are at times brilliant. On the opener and title track, “Phantom Island,” a descending piano motif acts as a throughline across the jazzy track; the song culminates in a speedy, jam build-up, raucous yet focused. Tracks like “Lonely Cosmos,” with its acoustic ditty intro and psychedelic jazz conclusion, and “Aerodynamic,” with its excellent blues guitar tone, craft enough of an identity to stand out from the rest of Phantom Island—an album that, yet again, finds King Gizzard mostly playing firmly within their comfort zone.

Despite the different aesthetic surface differentiating any King Wizard & The Lizard Gizzard album from another, KGATLW know exactly who they are. Whether they’re playing with microtonality, thrashy sludge metal, electronic music, or spoken word, The Lizard Wizard & King Gizzard are the exact same under the hood; the group merely steal the aesthetic of a genre without any mind for composition or ethos. Phantom Island is progressive pop, jazzy, and, of course, symphonic, but at its core it’s another psychedelic jam album with the same structure as any of their other gazillion albums The record is utterly lifeless and boring apart from its couple aforementioned highlights. The horns sound forced, the record clearly not written with them in mind, and the songs that bristle with the most instruments are chaotic. Moreover, by the end of Phantom Island, The Lizard Wizards have basically dropped their schtick for the album, sounding outright like the psych rock band they are; I dearly miss the ELOisms of the earlier tracks starting at “Sea of Doubt” (although even those earlier ones often add a sort of ‘let’s-all-hold-hands-and-sing-Kumbaya’ vibe that’s a bit too ingratiating). Orchestral elements still appear in the later tracks, but they seem completely detached from the main compositions, like the afterthought they are. 

Y’know what might have fixed some of the fundamental compositional issues? If the King Lizard spent more than a couple months releasing an album. The ‘chuck every composition into an LP’ approach has yielded winners for the Gizzard Wizard in the past, but their discography has far more stinkers because every album feels like an incomplete exploration of a sound. Is Phantom Island a fun record? Yes. And I know that King Lizard & The Gizzard Wizard will continue to be successful because of that, deservedly one may say. But I can’t help but feel like this opus—like most of their others—is vapid pastiche as far as artistic merit goes.

Recommended tracks: Phantom Island, Lonely Cosmos, Aerodynamic
You may also like: Himmellegeme, Adjy, Kosmodome
Final verdict: 5/10

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

Label: p(doom) – Bandcamp | Official Website

King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard is:
– Ambrose Kenny-Smith – vocals (all tracks), piano (tracks 1, 2, 4–6, 9, 10)
– Michael Cavanagh – drums, percussion (all tracks)
– Cook Craig – bass (tracks 1, 3, 8, 10), Mellotron (tracks 1, 6), organ (tracks 2, 4, 9), vocals (tracks 1, 3, 4, 8, 10)
– Joey Walker – guitar (all tracks), bass (tracks 1, 4, 5), vocals (tracks 2, 4–7, 9, 10)
– Lucas Harwood – bass (tracks 1, 2, 4–7, 9, 10), piano (track 4), vocals (tracks 4, 5)
– Stu Mackenzie – guitar, vocals (all tracks), bass (tracks 1, 3–8), Mellotron (tracks 1–3, 5, 6), organ, piano (track 1)
With additional musicians:
– Sam Joseph – pedal steel (tracks 5, 8, 10)
– Chad Kelly – orchestral arrangements, piano
– Brett Kelly – conductor
– Tim Wilson, Lachlan Davidson, Phil Noy – saxophone
– Patrick McMullin, Daniel Beasy, Shane Hooton – trumpet
– Chris Vizard, James Bowman, Joe O’Callaghan – trombone
– Abbey Edlin – French horn
– Wendy Clarke, Lachlan Davidson – flute
– Natasha Fearnside – clarinet
– Matthew Kneale – bassoon
– Madeleine Jevons, Jos Jonker, Miranda Matheson, Ruby Paskas, Josephine Chung – violin
– Merewyn Bramble, Karen Columbine – viola
– Gemma Kneale, Paul Zabrowarny – cello

The post Review: King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard – Phantom Island appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive metal, post-metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: The Ocean, Intronaut
Country: Australia
Release date: 16 April 2025

For the most part, this gig is pretty awesome, but a few things do suck: getting hate mail, interacting with my colleague Chris, and most of all, frustratingly realizing there is too much interesting music to possibly cover all myself. I delegate to my peers here as much as I can, but even then I don’t have enough little scribes to write all the reviews I want written. At the Subway, we at least write up “Missed Album” reviews during December and January, but those require a certain score threshold, leaving an endless procession of worthwhile 7-7.5/10s to slip through the cracks of our coverage year after year. In 2024, one of the strongest albums I never had the chance to cover despite wanting to was Cave Sermon’s sophomore release, Divine Laughter. Thankfully, after only a year, Charlie Park has released his next album under the Cave Sermon moniker. I won’t let his music go unsung on this blog twice in a row. 

Fragile Wings is wholly unlike its unreviewed predecessor, however. Divine Laughter hit hard with in-your-face dissonant riffs; Fragile Wings more subtly ensnares the listener, making use of addictingly shimmery melodies. Both styles of Cave Sermon are post-metal, yet they lie on two sides of the same coin. As much as I enjoyed the heft of Divine Laughter, Fragile Wings’ more gentle stylings elevate Cave Sermon beyond my lofty expectations. In a genre of metal I often find lethargic, Cave Sermon are outstandingly dynamic rhythmically and melodically. Park’s drumming in particular is electric, constantly shifting tempos and stresses in a way that perfectly accentuates the melodic contours in a way I didn’t quite realize was possible as a non-drummer myself. And although Park goes ham on the kit, often incorporating straight up nasty fills into places you wouldn’t expect, the performance doesn’t ever distract from the other elements because of the production, which endows the kit with a light, airy tone that synergizes well with the gleaming post-metal leads.   

Cave Sermon writes riffs in a beautifully grotesque way, reminding me most of the undersung Stone Healer. While Park dropped the grime between albums, there is still a snaking dissonance slithering through the riffs across the album: the technique sounds damn cool. The section around 4:15 in “Hopeless Magic” shows this off, as does the addicting trem-picked up-and-down of the main riff of “Moloch.” For largely sticking to open chords, Cave Sermon write deceptively hooky melodies, too. The final minutes of “Sunless Morning” have a particularly ear-catching melody, utilizing an exotic scale, a psychedelic guitar tone, and Sermon-y drumming to nail the climax after the track’s lengthy crescendo.

What brings Fragile Wings to the next level in terms of intrigue is the strong blackgaze influence integral to the composition at large. Build-ups and crescendos are expected from any post-metal band, but Cave Sermon manage to transform their most impactful sections into tremolo-picked guitar parts, achieving the catharsis which atmospheric black metal allows for without changing the straight-edged post-metal underpinnings of the sound. The blackgaze sections on Fragile Wings are breathtaking and are always sublime highlights—each buildup achieves a gratifying conclusion. The most intense moments of “Hopeless Magic,” “Moloch,” and “Three-Headed Moth” are euphoric for two reasons: Park is an excellent composer whose post-metal songs allow for massive buildup despite their short length, AND clean-toned trem-picking is one of the greatest things possible. Combine the two on top of the awesome drumming, and no wonder Fragile Wings is such a success. 

While I can guarantee it’s one of the best post-metal releases you’ll hear in 2025, Fragile Wings isn’t without flaw. On Divine Laughter, Park brought on Miguel Méndez to perform vocals, and his approach was more varied than Park’s; additionally, the more monotonous style of harsh vocals just doesn’t gel as well with the cleaner sound this time around. Despite the dynamism of the performances and writing, Fragile Wings falls into post-metal cliches like slightly vapid buildups a couple of times, notably in the first half of “Sunless Morning” and in the final minutes of closer “Ancient for Someone,” a bland finish to such an evocative album. Finally, adding something to provide a little extra oomph could really propel Fragile Wings into album of the year territory—I imagine a sparing usage of strings or horns—but as the album stands, the riffs are intricate enough to be satisfying sans ornamentation. 

I’m extremely pleased to not only bring Cave Sermon to you, dear readers, but to proclaim that Charlie Park has improved his already excellent post-metal in the past year-and-change. Fragile Wings is a breath of fresh air for the genre: brilliant, dynamic performances, tight songwriting, and sublime crescendos, one of 2025’s most essential post- releases. Oh, and make sure to check out Divine Laughter after you’re done with this one—you’ll dig it.

Recommended tracks: Hopeless Magic, Moloch, Three Headed Moth
You may also like: Aeviterne, Sermon, Inter Arma, Skagos, East of the Wall, Mico, Stone Healer
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: independent

Cave Sermon is:
– Charlie Park (everything)

The post Review: Cave Sermon – Fragile Wings appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: funeral doom metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: old Swallow the Sun, Bell Witch, Mournful Congregation, Ahab
Country: Australia
Release date: 27 March 2025

Ah, the relief of spring. After ninety days of frigid grey skies and bundling up, at last I can go outside and frolic in the flowers, cavort with the baby animals—a breath of fresh air. This is not so for Spiine, however, since they’re from down unda. Late March heralds autumn in Australia, and all the white women flock to their local Starbucks for a PSL. It’s a grim time with cloudy skies, frigid winds, and trees partaking in their annual mass dying ritual (never mind that I’m sure Australia is quite lovely in the Fall). Tetraptych is fitting for that mood and is, in a word, bleak. Vocalist Xenoyr (ex¹–Ne Obliviscaris) and guitarist Sesca Scaarba (Virgin Black) have been working on Tetraptych for several years now, and while their debut under the Spiine moniker isn’t quite right for this time of year in the northern hemisphere, its funereal meanderings are masterful, nonetheless. 

In four monolithic funeral doom tracks (a tetraptych of them, if you will), the duo exude misery and pain. The album is monochromatically grey; it’s not hopeful for a second. Tetraptych is a threnody to human happiness. Playing into funeral doom stereotypes, the album’s pace is glacial, occasionally hastened for moments of blackened tremolos like at the end of opener “Myroblysiia” and closer “Wriithe”; but otherwise, be prepared to suffocate in overwhelming misery. The guitars’ weepy riffs have fantastic tone, hearkening back to funeral doom legends like Esoteric, Evoken, and Colosseum while also keeping Scaarba’s gothic, Virgin Black styles intact. At times the album is heartbreakingly gorgeous in the way a wilted flower is beautiful (see the strings and choirs around 4:00 in “Oubliiete”). Tetraptych can even convey feelings of fragility; each track ebbs and flows between crushing doom sections and stripped back, minimalist soundscapes. These can manifest as an isolated guitar part, choral intro, simply Xen’s vocals with a whispered intensity, or delicately arranged strings.

Xenoyr’s vocals, however, extinguish any sustained notion of brittleness. Even though humans are shattered easily, misery is omnipresent and inescapable. Desolation and death are inevitable, and so are Xenoyr’s deep growls and raspy highs. With his characteristic darkly poetic lyrics full of allusion and a thesaurus’s worth of stellar vocubalury, the vocal attack and subject matter (of pain and torment) match the sunless music perfectly. Although almost exclusively alternating between growls and highs—aside from the start of “Wriithe” which has him groaning and croaking ominously and is rather haunting—Xen does fall into a pattern of repetition at times. In the context of four quarter-hour tracks, this limited range succeeds at making the album seem incredibly dense and singular in mood, but I would have preferred that Spiine compose with more of the choral elements in addition to Xen’s harshes. 

The lack of variety extends beyond Xen’s vocals, however, with 90% of Tetraptych dwelling in moody gloom and painfully slow distorted riffs. The only moments which demand attention are the blackened sections and the Mournful Congregation-esque guitar leads, and the rest becomes a bit of foggy, slow-burning blur². At over an hour, the repetition gets to me, unfortunately. But maybe that’s because it’s sunny today for the first time in months and I’ve finally got some vitamin D. I’ll be sure to return to Tetraptych on a stormy winter eve and wallow in the sadness as was intended. 

I’ve waited several years for this project to materialize and seen countless updates from Xen about how he was practicing sounding miserable, yet I was still unprepared for how crushing Spiine would be. If you wish to embark on a “pilgrimage through human suffering,”³ Tetraptych is the perfect soundtrack. You will be miserable and you will like it.

Recommended tracks: Myroblysiia, Wriithe
You may also like: Virgin Black, Evoken, Esoteric, Frowning, Colosseum, Déhà
Final verdict: 6.5/10

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

Label: independent

Spiine is:
LINE-UP:
Sesca Scaarba: Guitars & Orchestration
Xen: Vocals

With:
Session drums by Waltteri Väyrynen
Session bass by Lena Abé
Orchestration editing by Grigoriy Losenkov
Choirs by The Choir That Never Was
Vocals recorded by Xen
Guitars recorded by Sesca

1. I am still grieving this btw. The album is fitting as you will soon read. ︎
2. Don’t you dare comment “yOu JuSt dOn’T uNDeRsTaNd FuNErAl DoOm.” I know this is a prog blog, but I know and love as much funeral doom as anybody. ︎
3. Credit to their Bandcamp for that one. ︎

The post Review: Spiine – Tetraptych appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Post-black metal, deathcore, progressive metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Alcest, Astronoid, Cattle Decapitation
Country: Australia
Release date: 04 April 2025

I sometimes wonder what life would be like if I were born in the pre-Internet age. Well, technically I was, but my teenage years coincided with the proliferation of broadband connections into practically every home in the developed world, including mine. Combined with my burgeoning love of metal music, high-speed Internet opened up doors of musical exploration which a non-online version of myself couldn’t have accessed. I remember when (the now entirely defunct) MP3.com was a legal music sharing and discovery site, the day Napster came online, and the first YouTube video—all before I turned twenty. These tools, combined with browsing forums and record label websites, exposed me to various metal subgenres. Today, I use the likes of Bandcamp and Spotify, but the spirit of exploration remains.

Which brings me to Illyria—a band recommended to me by a forum user (shoutout to Keyser) several years ago that has found a consistent place in my rotation ever since. Would offline me ever have discovered a small, progressive post-black metal act from Australia? Probably not. The Subway itself has yet to find space to cover them, and obscure prog acts are our bread and butter.

Considering that fact, a brief overview of their discography is in order: though rooted in a post-black metal sound that they carved out on their 2016 self-titled debut, each subsequent Illyria release finds new ways to break from that mold. The Carpathian Summit (2019) reaches into progressive rock and metal territory, weaving in intricate compositions and varying styles to complement the emotive black metal core. By contrast, Take Me Somewhere Beautiful (2022) dials back the post-black intensity, making space for raw punk energy and screamo-anthem catharsis. Then there is last year’s Wanderlust, a relentless yet melodic storm where searing extreme metal collides with shoegazey introspection. Illyria are always stretching, but never remove their footing entirely from their post-black base.

With The Walk of Atonement, their latest release and first EP, Illyria doesn’t stray too far from its predecessor sonically. And why should they? For my money, Wanderlust is their crowning achievement, and we’re not even a year removed from its release. This extended player feels like, well, an extension of Wanderlust—retaining the heavy death metal bits, a dose of stank-face groove, and the lost-in-thought soft moments, albeit enlarged to a single twenty-three-minute composition. Yet, it is also different. An unsettling eeriness permeates the soundscape throughout. Atonement is taking us back to the Dark Ages, and not just the pre-Internet kind: we’re going medieval, man.

Frontman Ilija Stajić says that this release “is an homage to an experience I had in a fictional world that I was totally immersed in. It is evident throughout our discography that I enjoy writing about video games that I play. The Crusader Kings and Mount & Blade series with its truly amazing modding community had me entranced when composing this EP.” The lyrics, title, and album art certainly evoke the time period and geographic setting of those games: public trial, judgement and punishment, revenge and personal justice—all wrapped in religious undertones.

Like the strict and unforgiving traditions of medieval societies, prog fans have fairly exacting and sometimes contradictory standards. We like recurring themes, but not repetition; the vice of adhering to genre hallmarks tempered by the virtue of musical originality; variety and variance, but also cohesion and congruence. The Walk of Atonement understands this delicate balancing act, and through a plethora of melodic and stylistic choices largely avoids wavering on the high wire. A walking, trudging melodic motif appears throughout the EP in different contexts that ties its handful of sections and moments, and thus the release as a whole, together. The vocals utilize an array of styles—black metal rasps, death metal gutturals, that weird cool scrungy thing that Cattle Decapitation’s Travis Ryan does, as well as cleans that range from melodious whispers to bombastic refrains. Similarly diverse, the guitars would find a home in the aforementioned extreme metal genres in various moments, while the drums fill in with some blast beat bliss and double bass intensity where appropriate. In the background, moody strings, synths, and intricate piano accompaniment provide a hefty amount of color and atmosphere to the aural landscape. Atonement is mostly a metal EP, for sure, but it efficiently and effectively caters to my prog fancies (re: variety) in its tight timeframe.

At the outset of this piece, the lyrics ask the gathered mass to cast stones in judgment. I’m happy to oblige in this regard, but looking at the scattered options on the ground, I’m not really finding any rocks big enough to cause any serious damage. There are a few pointy pebbles, though. I lift one and heave it. The transition into the bridge is way too abrupt and stilted. Another. And that bridge itself lingers too long on a slow and repetitive melody. One last tiny, but smooth stone for good measure. I don’t know how effective the angsty vocal timbre in the intro is. I’ll let other hecklers in the crowd try to bloody up our martyr, as these criticisms are all that I have in me.

Predicting Illyria’s next move has never been easy—each release reshapes expectations set by its predecessor. So, even though a lot of the Wanderlust influences are here, The Walk of Atonement is a neat little aside in their work that could be only that—or it could be a show of strength for lengthier, proggier things to come. I’ll be listening either way.

Recommended tracks: It’s one composition, so listen to the whole thing!
You may also like: Serein, Subterranean Lava Dragon, Together to the Stars
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

Label: Self release

Illyria is:
– Ilija Stajić (vocals, guitar)
– Andre Avila (rhythm guitar)
– Harry Prosser (lead guitar)
– Jeffrey Anderson (bass)
– Cam Stone-Griffin (percussion)

The post Review: Illyria – The Walk of Atonement appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal, alternative metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Oceans of Slumber, Deftones, OK Goodnight, Votum
Country: Australia
Release date: 28 February 2025

Thanatophobia, the fear of death, can be a grand driver for human endeavour, or it can paralyse with terror. Perhaps it depends on how abstract that fear is: in insulated Western nations there are few imminent threats to one’s life. The inhabitants of Australia, on the other hand, have to contend with an island where every native species is actively trying to kill them. Whether it’s the venomous brown recluse or the snakes of both land and sea, ropey-muscled kangaroos, or even just a koala giving you chlamydia, everyone in Australia must be acutely aware that they might die at any moment. And perhaps that’s what drives the excellence of their prog scene. Few countries can boast a roster of great progressive metal legends like Karnivool, Caligula’s Horse, and Ne Obliviscaris, smaller, well-loved acts such as Lucid Planet, Closure in Moscow, and Voyager, and a burgeoning underground teeming with great acts like Dyssidia, Aquilus and Convulsing.

Standing out in such a scene is a tall order, so how do Perth foursome Primrose Path fare? Debut album Ruminations is rooted in a progressive take on alternative metal and gothic influences. Frontwoman Lindsay Rose has a stunning voice, her virtuosic delivery recalling the likes of Cammie Gilbert (Oceans of Slumber), and she modulates wonderfully between belting performances and softer timbres, occasionally even throwing some growls into the mix. The guitar tone meanwhile is awash in a quintessentially gothic chorus effect which lends Primrose Path a late nineties/early aughts gloss without ever sounding dated or derivative; the ultimate effect is a deft melding of modern and retro metal styles.

Compositionally, Primrose Path tend to settle on a particular rhythmic conceit—the djenty thrumming march of “Irrelevance”, the languid gazey vibe of “Unrepent”, the noodly lead guitar motifs that sachet through “Obstruct”—and roll with it, which confers a strong sense of identity to each track. Often, the songs build around their chosen rhythm to a particular standout section: “Propensity” dissolves into eerie vocals over sharp ambience leading to a heavy breakdown and angular guitar solo, and “Unrepent” features a guitar solo that has an almost muffled tone, as though being held back by Rose’s backing melodies. “Obstruct” showcases Primrose Path at their best, with a mid-section that sees Rose go positively operatic wrapped in a gorgeous guitar motif, the track bookended by a more biting riff and sense of dread. Nevertheless, the focus on song identity with usually only one moment that stands out also speaks to a lack of ambition, leading to few truly surprising moments. Ruminations does exactly what you want an album of this variety to do, but it rarely ruminates on anything unexpected.   

For the most part, Ruminations is rooted in a lighter metal sound, resisting the siren call of djent, although the main riff of “Irrelevance” is built around a thrumming chug which, while a cool conceit, somewhat overstays its welcome. “Shifted” is perhaps the most successfully heavy song with eerie choral arrangements backing Rose’s vituperative growls. These two heavier tracks, however, also highlight the main production problem on Ruminations, which is that in the heaviest sections the production becomes brickwalled, diverting from the impact that these objectively cool moments should have. It’s a small but noticeable issue on an album that, for the most part, is a real pleasure to listen to, especially with gothic wash that suffuses the guitar tone at every turn. 

Not wanting to fall into a cave of venomous quokkas (I’ve never been to Australia) has certainly inspired Primrose Path; to cultivate your own musical niche is one of the harder challenges for any artist, and to have it worked out on your debut full-length is an achievement in itself. While Ruminations sees Primrose Path playing it a little safe at times and needs a little more production polish, it’s nevertheless hard to deny that, overall, the particularly Australian fear of death, of every animal outside your house being able to kill you has worked its magic yet again. Beware the deadly wombat, and keep making sick tunes.

Recommended tracks: Obstruct, Unrepent, Propensity
You may also like: Recommended tracks: Obstruct, Unrepent, Propensity
You may also like: Crimson Veil, Madder Mortem, No Terror in the Bang
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Independent

Primrose Path is:
– Lindsay Rose (lead vocals, backing vocals)
– Brenton Lush (guitars, synth, keys)
– Scott Henry (bass guitar, backing vocals, synth)
– Ashley Doodkorte (drums)

With:
– Taz Gallant ( rhythm guitar on Obstruct, Unrepent, HEX)
– Herb Bennetts (drums on Irrelevance)

The post Review: Primrose Path – Ruminations appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

No artist credited

Style: Progressive metal (95% clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Dream Theater, Caligula’s Horse, Threshold, Kamelot, 00s pop punk
Country: Australia
Release date: 17 January 2025

[Editor’s note: since reviewing Teramaze, they released transophobic lyrics on their 2025 album The Harmony Machine, something which we deem unacceptable. We endeavor not to promote bigotry in any way, and we consider it our responsibility to make note of this if these details come to light after reviewing.]

Ever since Sorella Minore came out in 2021, Teramaze have been a favorite of mi—wait a second, I covered these fellas less than a month ago! Now they’re already back with an EP? Not that I’m complaining—Eli: A Wonderful Fall from Grace was my 2024 album of the year and all—but it continues to amaze me how fast they crank out new music. It’s not even the quickest thing they’ve done either; back in 2021, there were only five months in between the two full length releases Sorella Minore and And the Beauty They Perceive. Releasing an EP in eight months is peanuts in comparison. Wait, what’s that you say? They have a double album planned this year—and the first one is coming out soon already? Jeez, let me digest these Desire Colours n Lust first, okay?

For those unfamiliar with the band, Teramaze play a bread and butter brand of progressive metal centered around the expressive vocals of Nathan Peachy and/or Dean Wells, light djenty riffs, cinematic synths, and melodic shred. As its title might already indicate to you, Desire Colours n Lust is a far more straightforward offering than Eli, which was the conceptual finale to the Halo trilogy, having much higher pacing and chorus-driven songwriting. Nathan Peachy has fully taken over on lead vocals, allowing Dean Wells to focus only on the guitars besides a few backing parts here and there. His approach this time is less vulnerable and soul-bearing, instead opting for a smooth, seductive style in the verses, and a soaring, sing-along one in the choruses, all coated in a ‘00s pop punk energy redolent of Fall Out Boy or My Chemical Romance. More spotlight is also given to groovy, light djenty riffs, which in conjunction with the record’s upbeat nature makes the EP far less heavy emotionally than Eli was. Perhaps expectedly, Desire is all about having a fun time.

The production and performances on Desire are as professional as always. The mix is evenly balanced between all elements while also giving the right amount of weight to individual components when necessary. Nathan Peachy’s ever wonderful vocals sit front and center in the mix but never overwhelm the instruments; and similarly, the guitars sound full and heavy but remain in service of the greater whole, allowing room for orchestration, bass, and other melodic elements. The focus on a riff-centric sound leads to some mixed results: riffs have never been Teramaze’s strongest aspect, and they were at their best when used in service of the arrangements (the title track being a good example of this) instead of being the main driving force. “Sinister” has some excellent groovy djent riffs, but both “Bullet to a Pharaoh” and “Black Sound” recall the most generic instances of the prog power movement when they discovered the Chug continent around 2010. The guitarwork is at its best during the more complex passages and the few small solos peppered throughout the record.

While Desire is largely straightforward and chorus-driven, we do get a few passages where Teramaze attempt some riskier progressive songwriting. Most notable is “Black Sound” which includes some blackgaze-esque tremolo picked parts and introduces some nifty drum n bass percussion effects in its bridge’s atmospheric break. The title track and “Sinister” also do the atmospheric drop-off really well, giving all the space for Peachy’s angelic voice, but not all the album’s experimentation works. The rapid-fire harsh vocals in “Sinister” are too edgy for my liking, and the “Ow!” jumpscare that opens “Perfect World” hurts my ears and soul. By and large though, the songwriting feels undercooked. “Bullet to a Pharaoh” is the main offender with its generic riffs and lazy lyric-writing, going oh-woh-woh-wo-oh instead of penning anything meaningful, and its chorus comes across as a pop punk recontextualization of “The Will of Eli”. Similarly, for all its cool experimentation, generic riffage puts a huge dent in “Black Sound”’s potential.

Sometimes I wish Teramaze would take more time to release new music. Not that they are ever bad on this EP (well, besides the “Ow!”), but I know they are capable of much more than this. Desire Colours n Lust is a decent EP with some fun cuts and a few fresh ideas, yet I find myself wondering what the result would have been if they sat down to fully flesh out all their ideas into something more ambitious. In that sense, I’m a bit concerned about the upcoming double album being even more rushed, but hey, we don’t live in a “Perfect World” now, do we? 

Recommended tracks: Sinister, Black Sound
You may also like: Rendezvous Point, The Pulse Theory, Temic
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Wells Music (so basically Independent)

Teramaze is:
– Nathan Peachy (vocals)
– Dean Wells (guitars, backing vocals)
– Chris Zoupa (guitars)
– Andrew Cameron (bass)
– Nick Ross (drums)

The post Review: Teramaze – Desire Colours n Lust appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Art by: Maximilian Korosteljov

Style: Progressive metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Dream Theater, Kamelot, Caligula’s Horse, Ayreon
Country: Australia
Release date: 24 May 2024

[Editor’s note: since reviewing Teramaze, they released transophobic lyrics on their 2025 album The Harmony Machine, something which we deem unacceptable. We endeavor not to promote bigotry in any way, and we consider it our responsibility to make note of this if these details come to light after reviewing.]

Ever since Sorella Minore came out in 2021, Teramaze have been a favorite of mine. Seemingly out of nowhere, they casually dropped a twenty-five minute track alongside three short five minute ones, and then said, “Oh yeah, we’re releasing another album six months later.” Flabbergasted by their boldness, I checked out the album and was quickly enamored of their colorful, cinematic approach to songwriting, as well as Nathan Peachy’s soulful vocals and Dean Wells’ and Chris Zoupa’s emotional lead guitar work. Then, having barely digested Sorella Minore, their new album And the Beauty They Perceived came out, and less than a year later Flight of the Wounded was also in my mailbox. Now two years and ample digestion time later, the Australians are back with yet another package of melodic goodness titled Eli: A Wonderful Fall From Grace. How could I resist?

Teramaze play a bread-and-butter brand of progressive metal: hyper-melodic vocals that border on pop sit on top of light djenty riffs bolstered by cinematic keyboard arrangements. General progressive wizardry is present in the form of time signature fuckery (“The Will of Eli”), tempo and mood changes (“Standing Ovation”), and head-spinning climaxes doing everything all at once (“Madam Roma”). However, the main appeal of Teramaze is not in their technical prowess, but in their ability to evoke a sense of wonder and longing; despite the pop sensibilities, there is a slight edge to the vocal lines and a dark vibe throughout Eli’s runtime. The solos reflect this as well by emphasizing melody and feel, only using shred as a tool in service of the overall composition (see for example, “Step Right Up”). 

And sure enough, Teramaze’s songwriting prowess is as good as ever. Unlike the chorus-driven Flight of the Wounded, Eli is a concept album whose songwriting is informed by its story beats, relying on principles of tension and release as opposed to a firm verse-chorus structure. It is the conceptual finale of the Halo trilogy, picking up where Sorella Minore left off to finish what Her Halo began. The concept album format lends itself greatly to Teramaze’s free flowing songwriting approach: they do use choruses, but almost always conjure up a compelling divergence in structure in the latter half. “The Will of Eli,” for instance, continually builds up tension and peaks at the halfway point as it pulls out all the stops, then provides release by transitioning into this gorgeous Floydian acoustic section; “Step Right Up” has a similar dropoff halfway through but builds up again to a grandiose finale at the hands of a beautiful elongated guitar solo; and “Madam Roma” even introduces a second chorus in its finale after delivering the flashiest, most technical crescendo of the album yet. The titular “A Wonderful Fall From Grace” also greatly demonstrates this tension and release writing, teasing a saxophone solo multiple times before finally letting loose in glorious fashion, resulting in one of my favorite musical moments of 2024. While the track does take time to get going, making the first half a smidge bloated, the payoff is tremendous, expertly showing off the bands talents for both technicality and feel. 

This free flowing approach might raise concerns about diminishing quality of the vocal hooks, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. Nathan Peachy is an incredibly expressive and powerful vocalist, as is Dean Wells, who takes up vocal duties on the power ballad “Hands Are Tied.” Thanks to Wells’ talent for melody writing, he manages to make not just every chorus, but also damn near every verse catchy—in “Standing Ovation” especially, the verses are even bigger earworms than the chorus! While the focus on vocal melodies may detract from the riffage at times, leading to occasional sections of forgettable djenty chugging (“Step Right Up”, “A Wonderful Fall From Grace”), it’s actually a choice that reaps dividends, preventing the arrangements from becoming too crowded. 

Despite technicality not being the focus, Teramaze are by no means slouches. “The Will of Eli,” for example, opens with a syncopated rhythm doing four bars of three followed by one of four, creating a highly asymmetrical feeling in what is ultimately a 4/4 beat, and the guitar solo near the halfway mark is a proper mind-bender too. By far the most technical song however is the djenty “Madam Roma,” which features a ton of rhythmic switchups and delivers the most impressive instrumental section yet. At the peak of tension we get some well-placed harsh vocals which make the release of the subsequent guitar solo and second chorus all the more cathartic. “Standing Ovation,” too, has some dizzying solos that release into a deeply satisfying, weighty conclusion.

“Standing Ovation” beckons the listener with the lyrics “Get your ticket for a one of a kind / A performer that’ll blow your mind,” and in my case, Teramaze are that one-of-a-kind. Eli absolutely refused to leave my brain alone this year, its melodically rich yet technically intricate songwriting acting as a sideshow spectacle which blew me away over and over again. Traditional prog metal may be out of fashion, but on Eli: A Wonderful Fall From Grace, Teramaze show that sticking to a tried-and-true sound can work wonders in the right hands. It’s a worthy closer to the Halo trilogy, and I can’t wait to see what major work they have planned next.

Recommended tracks: The Will of Eli, Madam Roma, Standing Ovation (also all of them)
You may also like: Anubis Gate, Voices From the Fuselage, Vanden Plas, Daydream XI, Ostura
Final verdict: 8.5/10

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

Label: Wells Music (so basically Independent)

Teramaze is:
– Nathan Peachy (vocals)
– Dean Wells (guitars, lead vocals on track 7, backing vocals otherwise)
– Chris Zoupa (guitars)
– Andrew Cameron (bass)
– Nick Ross (drums)

The post Missed Album Review: Teramaze – Eli: A Wonderful Fall From Grace appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive sludge metal, progressive death metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Mastodon, Ne Obliviscaris, Alluvial
Country: Australia
Release date: 12 July 2024

I can’t believe three years have passed since Dan Presland left Ne Obliviscaris, and I’m sure this sentiment still haunts him in nearly every review for The Savage Winds of Wisdom. The fastest feet in Australia (so named because of his ridiculously precise and speedy blast beats), Presland left his day job as a train conductor to pursue a musical career with the Aussie prog death legends. Now, his focus is with new kids on the block, Black Lava, with their sophomore album The Savage Winds of Wisdom coming just two years after the project’s 2022 debut. Was Savage Winds worth leaving the single greatest band of all time?

In Black Lava, Presland shows off a new aspect of his drumming, no longer solely relying on the inhuman blast beat as a crutch, instead injecting groove, heft, and atmosphere with a performance ranging from a doom-y crawl all the way up to his classic blast beats. As the vertebrae of Black Lava, Presland’s drumming allows Ben Boyle (Vipassi) to lay down some meaty riffs on guitar somewhere in between death and sludge metal with occasional tendrils of blackened goodness coming through. Meeting him note for note in the punchy style is Nick Rackham (A Million Dead Birds Laughing, which also contains Presland and Boyle as members), who thuds away with a powerful low-end presence perfectly bridging Boyle and Presland. The instrumentalists are in tight union, be it the shifting song structure of opener “Colour of Death,” which ceaselessly builds up to a riffy climax, or the staccato beat of 2:00 into “Unsheathing Nightmares” where the band unleash head-banging material.

On the other hand, we have vocalist Rob Watkins, and I regret to say his sludgy barks ruin the album for me. The album’s main tone is heavy aggression, and inclusions of hazy atmosphere often drastically alter the dynamics; but Watkins has a monotone rasping shout with little range. The increased flexibility of a death metal vocalist who is strong with both high screams and low growls would make The Savage Winds of Wisdom a much more appealing listen, but the sludge-focused onslaught is, frankly, uninteresting, taking away from the subtleties of the band’s accompaniment. I misrepresented Watkins a little: in the atmospheric sections, he does change style from the barks into a gruff spoken word whisper-growl (see end of “Dark Legacy,” 3:30 in “Unsheathing Nightmares,” or really at slower parts in any track). While I appreciate the attempt at variety, I think these sections are cheesier than anything, not befitting of the serious, heavy nature of Black Lava’s death metal side and their musical gravity.

The Savage Winds of Wisdom is undoubtedly a big step up from Black Lava’s debut, Soul Furnace, showcasing more subtlety and a greater emphasis on songwriting. The three tracks over six minutes (“Colour of Death,” “Summoning Shadows,” and “The Savage Winds to Wisdom”) never stagnating on a riff and cycle through sections seamlessly, alternating between post-metal tinged atmospherics and grounded death metal. The highlights, though, are when both collide with a blackened heart near the track endings. The six shorter tracks all contain enjoyable performances and enough riffs to keep even my fellow Subway reviewers Cooper and Zach satiated for a few hours, but it’s the more progressive structuring that really shows off Black Lava’s improved vision and care for writing.

Despite my positivity and admiration for the artists behind the project, The Savage Winds of Wisdom still leaves a lot of potential for growth: more dynamic vocals would be chief among these potential improvements, but I think an increased focus on winding, progressive tracks would really show off these guys’ skill. Great riffs alone cannot make a great metal project—at least on a prog blog.

Recommended tracks: Colour of Death, Unsheathing Nightmares, The Savage Winds to Wisdom
You may also like: Horseburner, Mastiff, Absent in Body, Vipassi, A Million Dead Birds Laughing
Final verdict: 7/10

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

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

Black Lava is:
Dan Presland (drums)
Ben Boyle (guitar)
Nick Rackham (bass)
Rob Watkins (vocals)

The post Review: Black Lava – The Savage Winds of Wisdom appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive metal, heavy prog, progressive rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Dream Theater, Fates Warning, Neal Morse
Country: United States-UT
Release date: 28 June 2024

Progressive metal is notorious for long songs. The majority of genre staples, particularly if we look back to before the djentrification of prog, easily surpass the ten minute mark; I’m more shocked by two minute (non-interlude) songs than twenty minute ones on an average prog album. Hourglass got the memo—or more precisely, were part of it. My introduction to the band—as should be everybody’s—is 2002’s hefty The Journey Into with its twenty-six minute closer which I still return to on occasion. Their other three initial albums all contain some chunky tracks, too, and in the fifteen years since Hourglass’s last release, the proggers are back at it with their longest average song length yet, every track handily eclipsing the impressive twelve minute mark and half (of the four) hovering at a cool 25:00. I’ve heard a plethora of flawless prog epics, but with each passing year it’s gotten harder to impress me by sheer volume: do Hourglass write the next “A Change of Seasons” or “The Odyssey”?

As a wise man once said, “it’s not about the length, it’s what you do with it,” and Hourglass are clearly more interested in showing theirs off than mutual pleasure. Not one of the tracks deserves to be as prolonged as it is. For instance, opener and last year’s twenty-five minute single “Void Within” is rather pleasant sonically, drawing on a relaxed heavy prog style with a pleasingly bright bass tone often taking an equal share of the guitar’s lead. But as the epic evolves, I find few of the transitions engaging, feeling more like distinct vignettes of micro-prog stitched together than a more compelling single piece. Hourglass also incorporate little variation beyond riff style, relative heft, and vocal or vocal-less sections—that is to say, this is a bog-standard never ending stream of mediocre riffs with nothing interesting to change the flow. At 12:30 there’s an acoustic section which is a welcome change from all the electric before, the minute of 22:00 has a somewhat exciting keyboard lead (only exciting, in truth, because there aren’t many keyboard leads at all)… that’s about it. Voids and Visions offers few surprises if we don’t count lackluster section transitions. The rest is a stream of standard heavy prog. The other three tracks function similarly, though mercifully “The Hour Grows Late” and “Vision of the Blind” show the band restraining themselves to tolerable song lengths.

While I complimented the relaxed heavy prog style, I think Hourglass work at their best when they lean more into metal like during the several-minute intro to “The Hour Grows Late.” The heavier riffs of guitarist Brick Williams inject some desperately needed energy into Voids and Visions which suffers under stagnant chunks of songs, sounding like single, indistinguishable bricks (oh my god, that’s the guitarist’s name!). In fact, the songs are built out of these bricks: Imagine we have one-to-three-minute discrete units of prog metal instrumentals with some vocals thrown atop on occasion and that these units are Lego. Hourglass build their songs out of many of these Legos, but the problem is they’re all standard, primary-colored 2x4s. The house they make is safe and sturdy, but it’s as simplistic as it gets for the genre. Nearly every section is moderately-paced riffs with Dream Theater-lite keyboard backing, repetitive rhythmic patterns, and occasionally bland vocals. Voids and Visions doesn’t feel like it progresses much at all despite the endless prog-isms. 

Performatively, the only remaining founding members, John Dunston (drums) and Brick Williams, showcase their several decades of experience in the prog metal world with technically stellar, albeit restrained, performances, injecting groove and riffs, respectively. The true standout member, however, is Brian Hancock on bass who carries this album, both figuratively and literally propelling the songs forward with his leads. Unfortunately, new singer Yahosh Bonner is the weak link, alternating between monotone singing and really strained high notes. He fluctuates between sounding far too relaxed and not enough, never finding a happy medium. His tone isn’t very smooth either, sort of shouting even his relaxed, monotone lines. With more finesse and a focus on range, Bonner could become a more fitting replacement for Michael Turner, but, for now, he sounds like an amateur among instrumental professionals.

At just under eighty minutes, Voids and Visions is no joke to listen through, yet beyond a general vibe, I don’t think most listeners would recall much about this album; there aren’t stunning solos, interesting climaxes, catchy choruses, or unexpected surprises to be found. Voids and Visions is a collection unworthy of being labeled epics.

Recommended tracks: Void Within, Vision of the Blind
You may also like: Shadow Gallery, Ice Age, Circus Maximus, Temic, Explorer’s Club, Magellan
Final verdict: 4/10

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

Label: independent

Hourglass is:
– Yahosh Bonner (vocals)
– Brick Williams (guitars)
– John Dunston (drums)
– Brian Hancock (bass)
– Eric Robertson (keyboards)

The post Review: Hourglass – Voids and Visions appeared first on The Progressive Subway.