Style: Progressive rock, progressive metal (instrumental)
FFO: Earthside, Russian Circles, Tides from Nebula
Country: Greece
Release date: 18 April 2025

Before we get into today’s review, I’d like to invite you to participate in a little Choose Your Own Adventure game. Remember them? Those thin, whimsically illustrated books that invited us as kids to step into the shoes of some inoffensively anonymous adventurer as they plundered ancient pyramids or explored the far reaches of the galaxy, their fate hanging in the balance with every choice we made? Your choice today, dear reader, is as follows: Do you like bagpipes? If yes, turn to paragraph two. If no, hit the back button on your browser, and I promise not to tell anyone about your bad taste.

Okay, I may have been exaggerating a bit above. While the gaida¹ does feature generously from the jump on Hamelin, the debut album from Greek instrumental prog metal band King Garcia, it’s only one of a host of unorthodox wind instruments featured in lieu of vocals. As an assembly of current and former members of Mother of Millions, POEM, and Tardive Dyskinesia, King Garcia’s sound is cinematic and earthy, with a propulsive energy that pairs Ennio Morricone or John Williams-ish influences with flavourful instrumental prog à la Earthside or Tides from Nebula. The close-knit fabric of the Greek metal scene evident in the band’s membership is also woven in behind the scenes; Hamelin is mixed and mastered by Hector D., who has worked with other Greek bands like Need and Calyces.

Popping fresh out of the oven as an instrumental act, King Garcia set themselves a formidable challenge. Instrumental progressive metal bands have little choice but to walk a tightrope: on one side of the chasm below is chip-on-your-shoulder virtuosic wanking; on the other, bland forgettability. King Garcia are fleet-footed in their approach; trumpet, clarinet, gaida, and kaval all trade off lead roles, putting woodwinds at the forefront of their sound and crafting an original sound while still forgoing wankery.
Although a case could be made to lock in on just one instrument as the lead (as vocals would be in most bands, or guitar in Plini or Intervals), the rotating showcases allow for a diverse array of standout moments. Whether it’s the clamouring bagpipes in the opening “Prelude: Rats!”, the thrumming beats under vibrant, bright choral harmonies in “Anise”, or the clarinet nimbly taking the lead in “Sweat”, the opening minutes of Hamelin burst with unstoppable forward momentum. Not to be outdone, the trumpet injects passages that resonate with a grandiose solemnity, evocative of the Last Post (4:05 in “We Echo”).

However, as that momentum presses on to the back half of the album, the journey isn’t without a few bumps. The pizzazz factor is somewhat lower, and there are fewer surprises, once King Garcia have played their full hand of woodwinds and accoutrements. Some song’s intros are too long and break the flow (“The Day We Lost Everything” with its extended storm-scape, “Closer”); and while I love Killer Mike, the inclusion of a spoken word excerpt from his well-publicized May 2020 press conference² (“We Echo”) doesn’t quite land. As the only part of Hamelin with actual lyrics, it’s not clear if it is intended as a thesis statement for the song, or the album, or just atmosphere. 

As well, at a few points on Hamelin, I found myself questioning whether it really needs to be a metal album. Most notably, “Magnolia”, opens with a sultry bass-backed trumpet solo, but when the chunky, distorted guitars kick into gear under the trumpet, it almost seems a shame—the subtlety of the track’s languid opening minutes is more effective and engaging than what comes after. I have the same issue with the guitars in “Hamelin”; whether it’s a question of production or a stylistic choice, their presence is bludgeoning, at the expense of the more intriguing offerings from the non-standard metal instrumentations. But Kostas Konstantinidis does have some flashes of brilliance on guitar, especially in the album’s softer moments: tonally, the introduction of “Closer” reminds me very much of Pain of Salvation’s “In the Passing Light of Day”, with a similarly simple yet haunting melody.

In turn clever, cinematic, catchy, and captivating in its unique brand of woodwind-led progressive metal, Hamelin has a lot to offer. While all of the members of King Garcia are experienced musicians in their own rights, some of the decisions made on this debut outing show seams that still need to be smoothed over. Nonetheless, I’d happily choose to turn to whatever page contains the next chapter from King Garcia.

Recommended tracks: Anise, Magnolia, Closer

You may also like: Yossi Sassi, Acyl, Tardive Dyskinesia

Final verdict: 7/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label: ViciSolum Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

King Garcia is:
– Alex Orfanos: trumpet and clarinet
– Kamil Kamieniecki: drums
– Kornilios Kiriakidis: bass
– Kostas Konstantinidis: guitar
With guests:
– Konstantinos Lazos: gaida and kaval
– Iakovos Molybakis: percussion

1. a type of bagpipe found in Southeastern Europe ︎
2. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vy9io6VEt58 ︎

The post Review: King Garcia – Hamelin appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive metal, alternative metal (mixed vocals, majority clean)
Recommended for fans of: Leprous, Kingcrow, Katatonia
Country: Greece
Release date: 4 October, 2024

How can you break out of the patterns and routines which lock you in place? How can you look at what’s happened before and learn the right lessons to change the outcome when you try again? In creative pursuits, as in the rest of one’s life, it’s easy to get stuck in a rut that leads you down the same mental paths time after time. Human nature drives us to follow habits, to embrace the status quo. It’s only by taking a step back and re-evaluating your goals and values that these patterns can be broken, otherwise the same failings and stagnation can only continue. Although this sentiment is much more timely now compared to when Magna Mater actually released last month, it feels fitting for the year 2024 as a whole that Mother of Millions has presented us with another release that largely follows in the footsteps—and particularly the shortcomings—of what came before it.

The guitars are deeper and heftier, and the vocals have matured to greater heights in their strength, but there is little to be found within Magna Mater that wasn’t already covered in 2017’s Sigma or done better in 2019’s Artifacts. The opening track “Inside” transitions quickly from its spacey beginning into the band’s meaty signature combo of guitar and synth. This is the blueprint for the majority of the album: each track’s mood is mostly defined by the vocals, with modulations in tone or timbre offering contrast between somber and energetic productions from one song to the next, but the constant undercurrent is the rhythm section, steadily plodding along in the background but offering little distinction to any track compared to the others. Because of this, the title track stands out as the most memorable (although not the best) of the early tracks due to Antonia Mavronikola’s unique guest vocals which offer ethereal, mysterious contrast to primary singer George Prokopiou’s edgier and more powerful performance. However, even this aesthetically unique song remains largely mired in the same indistinct instrumentals, with little unique appeal to pick out aside from the vocal performances.

Mother of Millions’s music has always felt incredibly emotional (in large part thanks to Prokopiou’s singing), even when the rest of the ensemble can’t quite keep pace with the impact of his fathomless voice. Magna Mater deepens the intensity of that primary performance, but the band’s expressive capabilities as a whole still lag behind their ambition. Although the backing rhythm parts of each track do an adequate job of supporting the emotion of the vocals, they rarely combine in unique or memorable ways that create a moment greater than the sum of the recorded musical notes; this is quite a letdown compared to their prior release, Artifacts, which showed much more variety in the instrumental parts and better used the harmony of vocal and instrumental parts to produce an array of different personalities and meanings for its songs. In many ways it seems Mother of Millions might benefit from a more post-rock-esque style to accompany Prokopiou’s performance; in moments like the first minute of “Irae,” where the instrumentals fade into a passive background of keyboard-led soundscapes, his singing—finally freed of petty distractions—comfortably outshines anything that the guitar, bass, or drums put forward in the preceding seven tracks.

Funnily enough, it’s the closing tracks which give the most substantial glimpse into Mother of Millions’s potential for revolution, waving goodbye with a cheeky wink and just a suggestion of the innovation the earlier songs could have achieved. The aforementioned first half of “Irae” builds its own unique atmosphere to support gentle vocals with equally gentle piano and drums, while the second half puts me in mind of Leprous (from the Pitfalls era and beyond) with its impressive, climactic buildup; perhaps Mother of Millions could learn some key lessons from their equally vocalist-focused peer. “Irae” puts Prokopiou through a set of exercises beyond anything else to be found in Magna Mater, beginning with his trademark soft rock sweetness but ending with hard-edged, almost hardcore-punk cries that leverage his surprisingly harsh tones combined with driving, unrelenting rhythms to produce the best and most emotional moments from the album by far. Afterwards, “Space” is appropriately one of the few songs to offer space for Prokopiou’s commanding vocals to take on the leading role they were meant for, still dominant despite the softer tone of this particular song, a reminder of the band’s core musical strength but also how underrepresented it has been throughout Magna Mater.

For all the great vocal work and emotional content which runs throughout the album, Magna Mater makes little effort to take steps forward or in any other direction. Content to settle into their well worn groove, Mother of Millions play to their core strength in George Prokopiou’s singing, but fail to advance their instrumental accompaniment in ways that could support him even better. While the closing tracks “Irae” and “Space” show a flash of inspiration and novelty, the rest don’t offer any great contrast with each other or with the band’s past works. May we all learn this lesson from Magna Mater’s shortcomings: the ability to move forward, to enact real change, starts with re-evaluating the choices and patterns that brought us to where we are now, and then taking bold steps to break out of habits and move in a new direction.

Recommended tracks: Inside, Feral, Irae, Space
You may also like: Haven of Echoes, Mantra, Riviẽre, In the Silence, Traverser
Final verdict: 5/10

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

Label: ViciSolum – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Mother of Millions is:
– George Prokopiou (vocals)
– Kostas Konstantinidis (guitars)
– Panos Priftis (bass)
– George Boukaouris (drums, keyboards)
With guest:
– Antonia Mavronikola (additional vocals, “Magna Mater”)

The post Review: Mother of Millions – Magna Mater appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Symphonic Death Metal, Progressive Death Metal (Harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Fleshgod Apocalypse, Septicflesh
Country: Greece
Review by: Christopher
Release date: 16 February, 2024

You might think that the reviewer perk of receiving advanced copies of albums is a joy with no drawbacks, but February 2024—an impressively strong release month—has been so boring for reviewing because I heard and wrote about everything I wanted to for this month in January. As everyone picks up the new Kyros or Eternal Storm or even Ihsahn, I’m sitting here weeks ahead, the novelty already worn away. Yes, this is an incredibly privileged whine, but it’s important context; waiting for new releases to grab me, mediocrity reared its head at every turn, until one album finally managed to break the February curse. 

Working in the vein of groups like Fleshgod Apocalypse and fellow Greeks Septicflesh, Thy Shining Curse conjure exactly the sonic chaos you’d expect: blistering metal riffs, breathless harsh vocals and thundering drumwork beneath grandiloquent symphonic accompaniment—pianos shred, strings urge haste, rapturous brass notes pierce through, and Carl Orff-esque choirs portend breathlessly. Theurgia describes a series of magical rites rooted in Neoplatonism, aimed at communing with superior beings and, ultimately, The One.

Vocalist Leonidas Diamantopolous delivers the expected harsh vocal delivery, while guitarist Leonidas Diamanotopolous shreds away with some impressive solos and sturdy riffs, all the while drummer Leonidas Diaman—huh. Bear with me a moment… This is all one guy?! Holy shit! Yes, Thy Shining Curse is a one-man-band effort, Diamantopolous handles everything besides a couple of vocal and guitar contributions from guests. One-man-bands often have particular strengths that come at the expense of other facets of musicianship depending on their musical background—after all, a guitarist-by-training can be forgiven for being guitar-forward in their output. But Theurgia’s has an unexpectedly strong compositional focus, every instrument and element has equal weighting and an effortless sense of interplay. 

Symphonic death metal, however, is a well established genre at this point, and one has to break the mould a little to stand out. In this regard, Diamantopolous isn’t exactly a great innovator, but Theurgia nevertheless demonstrates some unique ideas: the chaotic sax solo over an orchestral break on “Abyssaoth” works beautifully, the prominent palm muting in the djenty main riffs of “Acephale” proves an unexpectedly successful textural choice, the Acropolyptic (stop booing me) opera chorus over a sick synth riff on “Aesahaettr” makes for a gorgeous melodic foil to the relentless riffage, and “Melmoth” opts for some more expressive and complex percussive choices in the opening and verses. 

There are no glaring issues here, though there’s a little roughness around the edges—the drum mix sounds a little wet but it’s only noticeable when the layers are stripped back, and the orchestral work can sound a little too synthetic in some moments, but mostly it’s great. The last three tracks feature moments of spoken word which work to greater and lesser degrees. The sample on “Lenore” just feels a bit cliched no matter how epic the music is, the spoken word performance on “Heptacletus” has a little more drive in it, but it’s the whispered vocals on “Melmoth” that work best, interwoven into a restrained orchestral break while portentous choir leads us into what might well be the best guitar solo of the record.

As debuts go, Theurgia is deeply impressive, and all the more so when you know that just one man is behind it all. Diamantopolous has delivered a work of symphonic death metal that goes toe to toe with the genre’s leading lights and comes out unscathed. As a mission statement, Thy Shining Curse have delivered a doozy, and there’s great potential for them to become a force to be reckoned with in the symphonic death pantheon… or should that be Parthenon?

Recommended tracks: Abyssaoth, Aesahaettr, Melmoth
You may also like: Lamentari, Aeternam
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: ViciSolum Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Thy Shining Curse is:
– Leonidas Diamantopolous (everything)

The post Review: Thy Shining Curse – Theurgia appeared first on The Progressive Subway.