Style: Progressive rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Rush, Voyager, Steven Wilson, Frost*, Crown Lands
Country: Brazil
Release date: 4 July 2025

The year was 2013. Budding Brazilian musician Léo Skinner was on recon in Canada, in a snowy Toronto suburb. An overly chilly companion put on his down jacket, revealing a stitched-on patch reading “RASH” in an unusual font. They all had a good laugh, even if Léo didn’t quite understand it. But their momentary lapse in concentration allowed “The Starman” to get the jump on them. Skinner spent the next three years in a questionably cleaned basement, forced to listen to a thin musical stew made from prominent, showy basslines, keening tenor vocals, icy guitar and synth chords, and forty-four kinds of percussion. He came close to madness trying to find it back in Brazil, but they just couldn’t get the production right!¹

So, I imagine, was the origin story of Skinner Project, whose eponymous leader, singer, and bass virtuoso has made no secret of his aspiration to be the Geddy Lee of São Paulo since its founding eight years ago. But, to be fair, the band’s latest offering, To Earth With Love, shows that it is more than just the ’80s Rush carbon copy that some might paint it as. The overall sound on offer here is more as if a young Geddy time traveled forward and began working with a shiny, hook-driven synth-prog act such as Voyager, with a bit of melodic influence taken from Steven Wilson‘s lighter material. Purporting to offer sci-fi-tinged yet deeply personal themes of longing, belonging, and self-discovery, the stage is set for Skinner Project to aim for the fine-honed balance of technical proficiency and emotional resonance achieved by their idols. Do they manage to shine like the Aurora Borealis, or are they simply burning down the kitchen?

Well, they certainly nail the sound, at the very least. This is a proper slab of old-school sci-fi hard prog, with keyboards that twinkle and shimmer like stars in the night sky, guitars that strike that Alex Lifeson-esque balance between rock-and-roll brawn and delicate atmosphere, and high-pitched vocals that exude just the right level of nasality. Opener “To the Stars” acts as an excellent sampling platter for the album’s overall sound, from the pounding Peart-esque percussion of its intro to its spacey, atmospheric verses and big, punchy choruses. Skinner’s aggressive “lead bass” is especially notable throughout, boasting a killer, shredding presence that particularly shines when met blow for blow with Léo Nascimento’s conga-bolstered battery of drums. There are a couple of slight musical curveballs here, such as the full-on synthwave of “The Devil’s Fault” or the saccharine pop-AOR of “A Dream of Us”, but for the most part the overall approach remains the same—Ranieri Benvenuto’s charmingly retro keyboard atmospheres stitch together hard rock riffs and soft, extraterrestrial balladry alike while Skinner belts his heart out on each anthemic hook.

Speaking of hooks, Skinner Project have them in abundance, and there’s a clear melody-first approach evident throughout every track here, not just in the great choruses but in the instrumental passages as well. There’s a sense that the band know they could make things more challenging and virtuosic, but then the stupider listeners would be complaining, furrowing their brows in a vain attempt to understand the material. And this is definitely music meant to be as accessible and emotional as it is technically accomplished. The title track floats amid a soft, yearning melancholy, while tracks like “No Answer”—and especially the standout “Disconnected”—leverage their stellar hooks into a powerful sense of emotional catharsis, facing one’s inner demons head-on. Still, for all its gestures towards a “darker” tone (the band stated they were inspired by the Last of Us soundtrack of all things), this is an aggressively optimistic album at its core, with its heart-on-sleeve emotionality frequently threatening to tip over into full-on cheese. One could argue it does so in the absolute cheddar-fest that is “A Dream of Us”, though that song’s melodies are so indelibly catchy and heartfelt that I can’t help but be swept along anyway. A recurring theme is “There is still light, there is still hope”, and this band wants you to know that you are loved, dammit, even in the darkest reaches of space, physical or emotional. After listening to some of these soaring, major-key choruses, even the hardest-hearted of listeners might feel something…

…That is, if they don’t look too closely at the lyrics. Yeah, the album’s biggest sticking point by a fair margin is that the words, clearly meant to be powerful and inspirational, look to have been written by someone with a, shall we say, less than fluent grasp of the English language. I get that foreign bands, particularly in the prog-power space, have been pumping out endearingly ESL butcherings of lyricism for a while now, but seriously, lines like “Making home on a busy heart / Is like to take a shot in the darkness of disaffection” feel like they belong in a Kyle Gordon video. I also didn’t particularly care for the doofy robotic spoken word plastered over the otherwise excellent late-Rush styled instrumental “Report 28”; I’m just trying to enjoy the bass shredding and Microsoft Sam over here won’t shut the fuck up about his space voyage or whatever. The music, too, is clunky in spots, with meandering, flabby closer “Eternity” being a particularly noticeable step down from the album’s generally tight melodic songwriting. “Speaking in Silence” is also a bit of a misfire—guitarist Gui Beltrame takes over lead vocals here, and he just can’t sell the hooks nearly as well, straining to hit the high notes in the chorus.

For all its flaws, though, To Earth With Love is a deeply charming, enjoyable album, one refreshingly free of any traces of irony in its heartfelt entreaties to embrace one’s own inner kindness and humanity in the face of insecurity and alienation. Sure, said message is a bit clumsily delivered in places, but it’s hard to get mad at an album with its heart so courageously placed on its sleeve. It’s also a deeply nostalgic album, one whose glimmering synths, soaring solos, and nods to the likes of Rush, Porcupine Tree, and Pink Floyd² are sure to delight both the old and the old-at-heart. For anyone who wonders if they’re really so out of touch, To Earth With Love is there to reassure them that, no, it’s the children who are wrong. 

Recommended tracks: To the Stars, No Answer, Disconnected
You may also like: Mile Marker Zero, Elephant Planet, The Twenty Committee
Final verdict: 7/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Skinner Project is:
– Léo Skinner (vocals, bass, synths, programming)
– Léo Nascimento (drums, percussion)
– Gui Beltrame (guitars, vocals)
– Ranieri Benvenuto (synths, rhodes)

1. For those who didn’t get the reference. ︎
2. They sample the echoing vocal bit from “Dogs” during the intro to “No Answer”, making this the second least expected Pink Floyd quotation in an album I reviewed this year. ︎

The post Review: Skinner Project – To Earth, With Love appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Power metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Shaman, Angra, Queensrÿche
Country: Brazil
Release date: 13 June 2025

Kids these days, am I right? As a wizened, elderly crone approaching thirty years of age, I recently listened to a podcast which showcased a Gen Z representative explaining modern slang terms to the podcast’s Gen X hosts, and nothing has ever made me feel older. I had only just figured out what “rizz” is, but apparently that’s totally passé; these days it’s all about the aura. Unlike the traditional sense of a subtle atmosphere or energetic field, the modern aura is all about charisma; coolness; having an it factor. One can engage in aura farming or auramaxxing in an attempt to gain aura points and become cooler. But of course, whether you’re a teen boy trying to sink baskets to impress the ladies or a metal band attempting to stand out from the crowd in 2025, such efforts are fraught with the deadly peril of trying too hard. Originally formed in 1993, Twilight Aura released one album in 1995 (when Gen Z was still but a whisper on the horizon) before going on a formidable twenty-seven year hiatus. So, what has the band been doing all that time? Have they, perhaps, been… auramaxxing?

If so, they’ve done a tasteful job of it. Believe is the second album of Twilight Aura’s comeback after For a Better World in 2022, and there’s no try-hard breaking of the mold here, just roll-up-your-sleeves, guitar-forward power metal with fist-pumping choruses and unmistakable influences from the Brazilian metal landscape. Twilight Aura operate with self-assured, unhurried Queensrÿche-like swagger, further complimented by impeccable guitar work that calls to mind Angra greats Kiko Loureiro and Rafael Bittencourt¹. But to be clear, Believe is “prog metal” in the same way that LaCroix sparkling water is “fruit-flavoured”. At most, there was a whisper of prog in the next room over while Believe was being recorded, but the light touches—playful frolics between time signatures, shimmering and curling synth timbres—add freshness to the band’s formula, scoring them more aura points without breaking a sweat.

While Believe is unquestionably a capably-executed album, your mileage may vary based on your penchant for being surprised and challenged by your music; the album is more likely to win you over gradually than stop you in your tracks. Perhaps the biggest surprise on Believe occurs fifty-two seconds into the first track, when Daísa Munhoz’s lead vocals make their entrance. This corner of the metal world usually leans on male vocals (though they may scale bafflingly high octaves à la Angra or Elegy); by contrast, Munhoz’s vocals are a welcome shift, bright and technically unimpeachable with a hint of rock ’n’ roll grit. The vocals are frequently layered, particularly in choruses, to stirringly anthemic effect. When she’s not harmonizing with herself, Munhoz has a host of guest contributors to duet with, including Fabio Caldeira of Maestrick in the heart-on-sleeve ballad “Coming Home” and Jeff Scott Soto in “Hold Me Tight”. Munhoz’s commanding presence at the mic also helps sell Believe’s social justice-themed lyrics, which, notably for the power/prog genre, are straightforward and literal in a market over-saturated with armadas, dragons, and blades (“Right Thing” deals with climate change; “Real World” with fake news).

Elsewhere, Believe rarely strays from the well-worn paths of the genre. There are soaring, extended guitar solos—Andre Bastos on lead guitar takes the spotlight 3:55 into “Laws of Life” and doesn’t relinquish it for a good minute and a half. There’s a sappily-harmonized power ballad duet (“Coming Home”). And there’s no shortage of what we used to call, back in my choral singing days, “feel-good key changes”.  But these are all familiar pleasures, if not particularly daring ones, and confined to Believe’s tidy forty-minute runtime, the tropes don’t have time to overstay their welcome².

So, have Twilight Aura maxxed out that aura of theirs? Perhaps not fully, but Believe is a cogent, compelling slice of the elements that made Brazil’s metal scene great in the 80s and 90s when the band’s members were getting their start. It doesn’t push boundaries, but it doesn’t need to: with their refreshing, charismatic vocals and musicianship that speaks of long-earned confidence in the genre, Twilight Aura have plenty of strengths to play to, and there may be aura left to harvest yet.

Recommended tracks: Yourself Again, Laws of Life, Hold Me Tight
You may also like: Age of Artemis, Elegy, Auro Control, Maestrick
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Wikimetal Records – Facebook | Official Website

Twilight Aura is:
– Filipe Guerra (Bass)
– Claudio Reis (Drums)
– Andre Luiz Linhares Bastos (Guitar)
– Rodolfo Elsas (Guitar)
– Leo Loebenberg (Keyboards)
– Daísa Munhoz (Vocals)

1. Twilight Aura’s guitar player, Andre Bastos—not to be confused with Andre Matos—was actually a founding guitarist in Angra, but left the band in 1992. ︎
2. For a Better World dragged at almost an hour long ︎

The post Review: Twilight Aura – Believe appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: post-rock, dream pop, MPB, shoegaze, psychedelia (mixed vocals, mostly clean)
Recommended for fans of: Parannoul, Turqoisedeath, Os Mutantes, Mestre Ambrósio, Celeste OST
Country: Brazil
Release date: 5 May 2025

Isaac Newton predicted that the Rapture would happen around 2060. That the end is nearing seems like a given with the state of the world these days, so Newton’s timeline comes across as delayed if anything. Some virulent super-bacteria or virus could take us out (probably something bioengineered); we’ve got a demented, wholeheartedly evil person in possession of the nuclear football (and multiple major-scale global conflicts going on, as well); but perhaps most likely is the imminent climate catastrophe. I won’t beat a dead horse too much—we’re all intimately aware of the dire situation in 2025—but corporate greed and ever-increasing industrialization are unceasing, and we’re about to pass the event horizon of its damage. This crisis is displacing millions of global citizens every year, myself included as of earlier this year, and its impact will only worsen. I think going out by an asteroid dino-style would be easier, or maybe with false vacuum decay, but we as a species have got to make the best of the situation at hand.

Lua, the woman behind Brazilian shoegaze act Sonhos Tomam Conta, has started a new project Antropoceno, and Natureza Morta is driven by a pseudo-manifesto of hers, a tirade against the evils of climate change inspired by indigenous authors such as Davi Kopenawa Yanomami and Ailton Krenak. Lua’s thesis, as given on Bandcamp, is that “Postponing this apocalypse necessarily involves rejecting the exceptionalism that seeks to conceive humanity as an organism separate from the body of the Earth.” She asserts that we ought not to forget our pre-industrial origins and look toward tools and methods of the past to slow the disaster; Natureza Morta is a loud call to action.

Antropoceno matches the concept to the music, with Natureza Morta incorporating pre-industrial folk music styles (samba, choro) into psychedelia and shoegaze, representative of the distorted corruption of modernity. The result? An impeccable vibe. The record blossoms out of bird chirping and strummed acoustic guitars, while the remainder of Antropoceno’s sound is formed by layering Brazilian percussion, psychedelic trem-picking of a non-distorted electric guitar, and bubbling, sugary synths. All together, Natureza Morta is like floating on a cloud in a dream, utterly serene, and the record flows freely, too, drifting from idea to idea—song to song—effortlessly. On “35ºC de Bulbo Úmido,” Antropoceno dives deep into psychedelia with exquisite choro mixed in for a sweltering effect, as if you’re melting while listening to the short piece while the crisis (and album) march on unrepentantly. Other tracks, like “222 Dias de Calor Extremo,” use longer, post-rock songwriting, letting Lua’s masterful synths guide the listener through tropical soundscapes.

The ethereality of Antropoceno’s base sound often veers into a more violent approach; as the natural world is destroyed by the increasingly hot temperature, hails of blast beats, distorted guitars, and harsh vocals colonize the alluring folky psychedelia. Inspired by fellow Brazilian legend Caio Lemos (Kaatayra, Bríi, Vauruvã), Antropoceno mixes Brazilian rhythms and acoustic guitars atop the blast beats to stunning effect, such as on the tracks “Queda do Céu” and “Natureza Morta.” Moreover, Caio Lemos is a guest feature on the track “Debaixo da Terra,” his vocals adding a tasteful, folk edge to the track. In addition to Kaatayra, Antropoceno manages to get a Parannoul feature on “The Waves,” with the South Korean shoegaze legend also providing his distinct vocals to the track.

As the tracks bleed into each other, they slowly lose their identities, all succumbing to the vibe that Antropoceno curates. I could listen to the dreamy Brazilian psychedelia all day, but Natureza Morta slowly drifts its way into pleasant background music over its runtime. The record’s bigger problem is Lua’s vocals, which are more on the shoegaze side of things—that is to say, unrefined. The clean lulls are distractingly amateur compared to the gorgeous instrumentation; thankfully, much of the album plays around with extended instrumental sections. These issues should be easy to iron out on subsequent releases and are hardly a damning problem on a project debut. 

Antropoceno presents Natureza Morta to combat an issue she sees as crucial. With a blend of Kataayra-inspired folk and Parannoul-esque shoegaze, the music matches the message; more importantly, Antropoceno’s music is extremely high quality. I’ll still be silently cheering for the easy out of false vacuum decay, but Antropoceno’s calling for us to consider a return to animist principles in the modern world hits home. Come listen to Natureza Morta for the awesome psychedelia, and leave with a renewed sense of urgency.

Recommended tracks: 35ºC de Bulbo Úmido, The Waves, Debaixo da Terra
You may also like: Kaatayra, Rasha, Sonhos Tomam Conta, Samlrc
Final verdict: 7.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Instagram

Label: independent

Antropoceno is:
– Lua (everything)
With guests:
– Kaatayra (vocals)
– Parannoul (vocals)

The post Review: Antropoceno – Natureza Morta appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: atmospheric black metal, progressive black metal (mixed vocals, mostly harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Wolves in the Throne Room, Panopticon, Kaatayra, Mare Cognitum
Country: Brazil
Release date: 9 May 2025

An artist’s first few albums can only be compared against the greater canon. For an artist like Vauruvã’s Caio Lemos (Kaatayra, Bríi, et al.) who has twenty albums under his belt, though, evaluating a new album against his own oeuvre is the natural thing to do. Further, his style is entirely peerless (after his first two more straightforward atmoblack releases), a signature sound permeating any genre he’s attempted—from his trance-infused black metal (Bríi) and dungeon synth (Bakt) to darkwave (Rasha) and a return to atmoblack (Vestígio). So how does Mar de Deriva stack up against Caio Lemos’ extensive discography?

At first, Vauruvã was an improvisatory project from Lemos with vocalist Bruno Augusto Ribeiro, melding traditional black metal with the Caio Lemos Touch— since metal and improvisation rarely go together, it’s certainly an interesting experiment. However, the first two albums under Vauruvã were among the bottom of Lemos’ releases in quality, slightly underwhelming due to their emphasis on pure black metal. Mar de Deriva drops the improv aspect of prior Vauruvã albums and instead approaches the average sound of all Lemos projects. I hear touches of Kaatayra, Bríi, and especially Vestígio here. The loss of Vauruvã’s distinct identity among Lemos’ various projects is a tad disappointing—I’d love to see how far improvisation could be pushed in black metal—but Mar de Deriva is all the better for it, easily Vauruvã’s strongest album to date.

Structured as a triptych, much like his 2023 album Vestígios, Mar de Deriva glides between ideas seamlessly whilst growing in intensity from movement to movement. The three tracks flow together as if a part of one larger epic, although they all follow an identical, predictable structure: a slow, folky start building into ripping black metal riffs, concluded by an eerily calm resolution. Mar de Deriva’s ebbs and flows are natural, and listening to the release is like drifting through a surreal dream—even the harsh vocals and distorted guitars merely add a hazy layer atop the free-flowing hallucination. 

Mar de Deriva has moments with the most ominous gravitas of Lemos’ career thus far, such as in the beginning of the album’s closer “As Selvas Vermelhas No Planeta dos Eminentes,” which is backboned by dramatic percussion and darkly cinematic synths. But contrasted with the obscured darkness are moments of extreme levity, full of illusive ethereality. After the initial riff-centered section to start “Os Caçadores,” for instance, the track pauses before erupting in a barrage of blast beats and harsh vocals over a tranquil synth motif. The ending of that track is almost uncanny with its subdued beauty, full of atmospheric synth, clean vocalizations, arpeggiated acoustic guitars, and bird chirping—how can music sound so peaceful and comforting yet strangely detached? Lemos blessedly utilizes his acoustic guitar playing at several points in the project, too, with the highlight coming in the final few minutes of “As Selvas Vermelhas No Planeta dos Eminentes”; the section is reminiscent of his magnum opus Só Quem Viu o Relâmpago à Sua Direita Sabe with its trem-picked arpeggios acting in harmony with the energetic rhythm. 

While Mar de Deriva features many of Lemos’ greatest individual riffs, his playing on opener “Legado” comes across as slightly sloppy; it doesn’t detract from the liminal dreaminess of the track, but the tighter guitar performance on the next two tracks is stronger. Lemos uses every trick from his extensive discography, but he underutilizes some of my favorites on Mar de Derica, particularly his ever-improving clean vocals. His lulling incantations are a soothing counter to his shrieky harshes and complement his synth tones.

Minor quibbles aside, Caio Lemos has delivered. Mar de Deriva is a wonderful record, its atmosphere utterly sublime. Vauruvã mixes stormy black metal sections with rays of sunlight bursting through the clouds, and the listener floats along in the dreams Lemos creates. So, although this record isn’t quite a crowning gem for Lemos at this stage in his career, its diaphanous beauty through searing riffs successfully combines some of the best traits across his body of work to an indisputably excellent result. There is no other artist like Caio Lemos—no artist who drops masterpieces seemingly at will. This is yet another.

Recommended tracks: Os Caçadores, As Selvas Vermelhas No Planeta dos Eminentes
You may also like: Bríi, Negura Bunget, Vestígio, Salqiu
Final verdict: 8/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Instagram | Metal-Archives

Label: independent

Vauruvã is:
– Caio Lemos (instruments)
– Bruno Augusto Ribeiro (vocals)

The post Review: Vauruvã – Mar de Deriva appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

(No artist noted; please let us know!)

Style: Progressive metal, power metal, symphonic metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Dream Theater, Diablo Swing Orchestra, Angra, Kamelot, Haken, Seven Spires, Seventh Wonder
Country: Brazil
Release date: 2 May 2025

Today, dear reader, we heed the eternal call that plagues every band known to man. The ever-present lore, the esoteric call that populates artist comment sections across the internet. The eternal convocation: “VENHA AO BRASIL”. Yes, today we are looking at a Brazilian act, Maestrick from São Paulo, and their album Espresso della vita: Lunare, part two of a concept album about a day-long train ride as a metaphor for life’s journey to death, and a nocturnal counterpart to their 2018 release Solare. It’s an ambitious progressive metal work that incorporates swing, symphonic power metal, and Brazilian musical conventions alongside heavy staccato riffing and velvety-soft vocals to create a high-octane experience. 

Maestrick excel most in the heavy swing/cabaret influence highlighted on the early part of the album. Tracks like “Upside Down”, “Ghost Casino”, and “Mad Witches” hearken back to early Diablo Swing Orchestra: heavy, grooving riffage punctuated by swing and jazz-influenced horn and piano sections that make you want to tap your feet and snap your fingers to the beat in a smoky room with a cigar in your mouth and two fingers of whisky in your glass. Additionally, the song “Agbara” features prominent Afro-Brazilian rhythmic cadences with lyrics in Portuguese—another excellent inclusion. I love hearing regional music in metal, and they blend it perfectly well with their heavy progressive metal style. It reminds me a little of the way Angra’s “Caveman” incorporated similar elements on their 2018 album Ømni. Unfortunately, the swing and traditional Brazilian influences are all but abandoned by the end of the album, where Lunare plays out with more symphonic, melodic progressive metal standards. 

Many of the compositions on Lunare feature a strong late-Dream Theater impact with a lot of twisty-turny Phrygian-dominant riffs present on “The Root” and “The Last Station (I A.M. Leaving)” and downtuned 7-string passages (“Boo!”). Add in a bit of that ‘modern metal’ affectation on songs like “Lunar Vortex” and “Agbara”—imagine Haken, Voyager, and that type of djent-approximate start-stop staccato riffing—and you’ve got a recipe that modern progressive metal lovers will find familiar yet compelling. Moreover, clear symphonic metal influence features on nearly the entire album, with grandiose compositions that echo film score epics, adding a lot of texture to the sound. Particularly captivating is the middle of “The Root”, where background strings heighten tensions before the guitar solo—and the end of the same track, where violin arpeggios over staccato riffing transition into a grand orchestral sequence that ends abruptly with heavy guitar. Skilfully written, and masterfully executed. 

Despite several strong points to Lunare, there are more than a few instances where Maestrick divert away from the energetic compositional style and into a more subdued emotional one, often at the expense of the album’s pacing. Soft piano and reverberant string arrangements characterize “Sunflower Eyes”, “Dance of Hadassah”, and the second half of “Mad Witches”. On “The Last Station” (the album’s epic, with a runtime of eighteen minutes), strummed acoustic guitar introduces the piece, which ebbs and flows in several movements from a soft rock ballad into a distinctly progressive metal heavy-hitter of a track, before transitioning into another very showy, symphonic outro. This consistent back-and-forth from heavy to soft and back again, even within the same song, I find to be a bit disengaging. Although I understand the need for differentiation within an album, it starts to feel a little repetitive when every other track incorporates some type of slow sentimental piece.

In spite of all that, Maestrick are obviously competent musicians and put out a very strong work with this ostentatious release that features symphonic elements, regional touches, and swing/jazz influence. Indeed, Espresso Della Vita: Lunare features all the nuance of its namesake drink, and much of the power—but sometimes stumbles into more watered-down territory with an overabundance of melodrama in its emotional ballads. These slower passages can bring you crashing down to Earth like a naloxone nasal spray when you’re carefree and flying high on the effects of progressive metal ambrosia. The album’s a fun ride, but a long one. Better brew another pot.

Recommended tracks: “Upside Down”, “Boo!”, “Lunar Vortex”
You may also like: Mindflow, Noveria, Almah, Immortal Guardian, Vougan, Everon
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

Label: Frontiers Music Srl – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Maestrick is:
– Fábio Caldeira – (lead vocal, piano, synths and orchestrations)
– Guilherme Carvalho – (guitars, backing vocals)
– Renato “Montanha” Somera – (bass, backing vocals)
– Heitor Matos – (drums and percussion, backing vocals)

The post Review: Maestrick – Espresso Della Vita: Lunare appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: folk black metal, atmospheric black metal, trance, drum’n’bass, jungle (mostly harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Kaatayra, Fishmans (Long Season)
Country: Brazil
Release date: 11 October 2024

October 11th 2024 was a big day for me. My girlfriend and I got up bright and early to travel four hundred miles to see Opeth live. Two hours before the show, however, I got an email from Bandcamp that Caio Lemos’ solo project Bríi had released his next album Camaradagem Póstuma with his usual lack of prior announcement. That I didn’t know if I was more excited for an Opeth concert or the newest album from Lemos should say enough about how much I love Bríi’s music. Halfway through the decade, and each year a Lemos project—Bríi, Kaatayra, and Vestígio—has been at or near the top of my end-of-year list. At this point, dangling this paragraph with some rhetorical “it can’t possibly live up to expectations, can it?!” is a sleight to your intelligence: we all know Camaradagem Póstuma is another masterpiece. 

Bríi has the distinct Caio Lemos sound—a vitalistic rhythmic pulse, blackened rasps, magical, tropical synths—yet like with every new iteration, the beast has evolved, incorporating new and refined elements into the formulae of previous projects. Like last year’s (disappointing) Último Ancestral Comum, Camaradagem is transitory and fuzzy, as if recorded from a dream. There’s an evanescent detachment that’s charming and intriguing but also profoundly eerie, compounded with the vocals being produced almost as if they were ghosts in the background. The rasps are delicate, quietly buried in the mix, and the recorded screams that start the album on “Médium” are haunting. On the other hand, the clean vocals, although uncommon in Camaradagem’s thirty minute runtime, showcase one of Serafim’s¹ greatest improvements, with his voice much more rich and assured.

As always on a Lemos project, rhythm is king, and on Camaradagem Póstuma it primarily functions in the nebulous space between jungle and drum’n’bass, Serafim’s obsession with percussion manifested in the intricately syncopated breakbeats of electronic music. He continually exchanges the breakbeats for blast beats with transitions so smooth there’s hardly a noticeable change in the percussive brilliance, and he makes the combination seem so natural it’s hard to believe that other artists don’t do it more. Alternating between these two modes—ephemerally coalescing and diverging in complex rhythmic dynamics—Bríi finds an electrifying groove early on in opener “Médium” and builds the album outward from it, as he did on my 2022 album of the year, Corpos Transparentes. Even though the drumming seems cyclically repetitive, Serafim almost always mixes each variation up—the frighteningly complex cymbal patterns, which beat is rhythmically accented, or even the inclusion of little easter eggs like the Amen break at the end of “Aparecidos.” 

From the illusion of hypnotic repetition, the album’s melodic contours blossom into a near limitless diversity of musical texture. First, various synths flower underneath the drums like perennials, continually and ephemerally blooming and wilting. Guitars dazzle in brief leads (4:21 “Médium,” 4:07 “Aparecidos,” and the riffs throughout “Baile Fantasma”), breathy flutes dance (5:00 “Médium”), and synthesized choirs (“Enlutados” opening²) create breathtakingly surreal atmospheres. The only track which doesn’t excel at creatively evolving is penultimate and shortest song, “Entre Mundos,” which stagnates in the same jungle/DnB beat throughout. However, the best melodic embellishment throughout Camaradagem Póstuma is undoubtedly the acoustic guitar parts which are a direct callback to my 2020 album of the year and fully acoustic black metal album Só Quem Viu o Relâmpago à Sua Direita Sabe. The trem-picked acoustic is a unique sound, vibrant but frail, as if it could collapse in on itself at any moment. 

Nobody else could craft an album quite like Camaradagem Póstuma. This seamless mix between acoustic guitar, enveloping black metal, and atmospheric rave music just works; it’s Caio Lemos’ magic. The hypnagogic black metal is unsettling yet comforting, surprising yet instinctive, low-key yet sublime. You’ll see this on my list as is annual tradition.

Recommended tracks: Médium, Aparecidos, Baile Fantasma
You may also like: Bakt, Déhà, Vauruvã, Rasha, Wreche, Plague Orphan, Oksät, Vestígio
Final verdict: 8.5/10

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

Label: independent

Bríi is:
– Serafim (everything)

1. The pseudonym Lemos uses as instrumentalist and vocalist for the Bríi project on Bandcamp ︎
2.  Which, fun fact, is the exact same choir synth that Mechina uses lol ︎

The post Missed album: Bríi – Camaradagem Póstuma appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal, progressive rock, avant-garde metal, zeuhl (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Mastodon, Sun-Ra’s Arkestra, Magma, Gentle Giant
Country: BRASIL CAMPEÃO DO MUNDOOOOOOOOOO
Release date: September 6, 2024

Change is scary. What’s even more scary is that at any moment, your favorite prog influenced metal band could drop the thing that made them cool and become synonymous with dad rock (Opeth, Leprous, etc.). But prog is all about change, going against the norm, doing your own thing with the music. Damn the fans, and give a big “Fuck you!” to genre labels. Just don’t go too far against what I want to hear, or else I’ll give you a bad score.

I’ll be real with you prog nerds for a moment: all your favorite albums have been the successful result of someone slamming two of the opposite genres together. Fusing rap and metal has been done before, but this year’s JPEGMafia has proven to be far more innovative and interesting than, let’s say, Skindred. But it shocks me that not many people have tried to slam zeuhl and metal together, especially considering the two are practically distant cousins of one another. Hell, nobody gets it right the first time, but Papangu somehow has. Twice.

Holoceno was characterized by grinding riffs and a fusion of Mastodonian sludge sensibilities with Gojira’s environmentally conscious storytelling plus the zeuhl of Magma. While this works for an album about the slow, inevitable death of planet Earth by human means, this doesn’t strike as something that would work for a story about the Brazilian historic figure Lampião. Papangu were already five steps ahead, as they’ve completely revamped their sound, ready to tell a tale of the hardships that brought young Lampião to his place in Brazilian history.

I’m an ignorant American who only knows the likes of George Washroom, Thomas Jetson, and that guy they made the musical about, so I figured I owed it to myself to do a bit of research on Lampião and his place in Brazil’s history. He was a bandit leader who fought against paramilitary police forces, even when the odds were stacked against him, and was  characterized by both the brutality he showed towards his enemies and the loyalty he showed to his comrades. Even if I can’t understand the lyrics, Lampião Rei perfectly captures this life story in its musical storytelling.

Unlike Holoceno, Lampião Rei starts with quiet acoustic guitar and clean vocals. Gone are the sludge riffs, replaced with the imagery of young Lampião working as his father’s farmhand in Northeast Brazil. ‘Acende a Luz II and III’ builds where our intro left off before erupting into harsh vocals backed with keyboards. Before I realized it, I was witnessing the most perfect union of Magma and metal I could imagine. The production absolutely shines in this first track, even with blaring keyboards for practically the whole song. None of it felt overblown or cramped, and it was clear that Papangu understood how to craft this record to get their message across sonically.

The replay factor of this album is almost immense. Every new listen, there were new layers to uncover, especially as Papangu have grown into a six-piece jazz orchestra (seriously, look at the Bandcamp credits for the immense number of instruments and guest players involved), each song has so much more to chew on than Holoceno. With this almost whiplash-inducing change in style, Papangu have practically mastered their descent into jazz-rock-mixed-with-metal territory. As much as I liked the sound of Holoceno, I feel that this is the sound Papangu were always going for. ‘Maracutaia’ as a single almost feels like this new sound’s mission statement, starting with its off-kilter piano all the way to its many jazzy breakdowns. 

‘Boitatá (Incidente na pia batismal da Capela de Bom Jesus dos Aflitos)’ is just about the most you’ll get of “old” Papangu, with a much more laid-back approach to its bass driven main riff. But the jazzy, staccato guitar and vocal combo keep it leagues apart from the previous effort, once again proving that they refuse to be constrained to just one sound. Even as the song starts with that grinding riff, the song crescendos near the five-minute mark before boasting an incredible flute solo. As much as I hear Giant and Jethro Tull in here, I also hear The Sun-Ra Arkestra, and Milton Nascimento. If that mix isn’t enough to sell you on the band, I don’t know what else will. 

‘Ruinas’ is an uncharacteristically soft song reminiscent of Gentle Giant mixed with traditional folk, and just goes to show the lengths of the Brazilian’s songwriting prowess. Just as the intro riff of ‘Rito de Coroação’ repeated at the end, I couldn’t help but think I missed so much of this album. Papangu haven’t done a change for prog’s sake, but to better evolve with their key themes and sound. With two monster releases under their belt, I think that they’ve basically got the entire prog world watching their efforts. Now, with the fall of Lampião, let’s see what they’ll do next.

Recommended tracks: Acende a Luz, Oferenda no Alguidar, Maracutaia, Ruinas, Rito de Coroacao
You may also like: Subterranean Masquerade, Seven Impale
Final verdict: 8.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Instagram |

Label: Repose Records – Bandcamp | Official Website

Papangu is:
Rai Accioly – (electric guitar, lead & backing vocals)
Vitor Alves – (drums, triangle, agogo, zabumba)
Pedro Francisco – (flutes, electric & acoustic guitars, percussion, vibraphone, Fender Rhodes, Clavinet, rubber chicken, lead & backing vocals)
Marco Mayer – (bass, electric & acoustic guitars, lead & backing vocals)
Hector Ruslan – (electric & acoustic guitars, lead & backing vocals)
Rodolfo Salgueiro – (Fender Rhodes, Wurlitzer, Mellotron, piano, organ, synths, triangle, lead & backing vocals)

Album art by: Eduardo Ver

The post Review: Papangu – Lampião Rei appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive death metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Opeth, Swallow the Sun, In Mourning
Country: Brazil
Release date: 5 July 2024

Sound the alarms, and man your battle stations! The fated day is upon us. Opeth has returned to making death metal. I know they had (finally) figured out prog rock with In Cauda Venenum and that Mikael had all but promised the death growls were a thing of the past, but here we are. It’s 2024, and we’ve got new Old-peth to enjoy… Wait one second. I’m receiving new information as we speak. It would seem that Opeth‘s newest Under the Shadow of a Foreign Sun wasn’t written by Opeth at all but is rather the third output of Brazilian death metallers Piah Mater. You could have fooled me!

In all honesty, the direct similarities between Opeth and Piah Mater, particularly on this new album, are rather sparse although admittedly glaring. Vocalist Luiz Felipe Netto’s low and open harshes would draw immediate Mikael Akerfeldt comparisons from even the most newbie Opeth enjoyer, and the long form composition style that the Brazilians employ is at best a first cousin to the style made popular in progressive death metal by Opeth’s early albums. Other than those similarities, and a few deja vu invoking riffs in tracks like “As Islands Sink” and “Terra Dois,” the style exercised by Piah Mater on Under the Shadow of a Foreign Sun is no more derivative of Opeth than any other prog death album of the past twenty years, a marked change from the bands previous output.

The best element of this album is certainly its use of harmony. From the first moments of opener “As Islands Sink” to the much doomier “In Fringes”, the luscious vocal harmonies were always pleasing to my ear, elevating the engaging—if not exactly memorable—lead melodies towards something actually quite decent. This trend continued into the guitar production where, more often than not, a riff always consisted of both a fairly standard distortion sound as well as a more affected tone, be it by wah, fuzz, or some other pedal, that added resonant stereo texture to the mix. Other than Chevelle, I had yet to hear a band so often employ this technique to such success. Unfortunately, while the album has a stellar sound (other than lacking bass) in key moments, it was for the most part unable to stretch that quality over entire songs.

The main issue with Under the Shadow of a Foreign Sun is its song structures, or structure rather. Other than the two interlude/irregular outro tracks, “Macaw’s Lament” and “Canicula,” respectively, each track follows the same essential formula. Begin with a vibrant and catchy guitar riff (that you may or may not have taken from Deliverance, Blackwater Park, or Ghost Reveries); once you get bored, meander into some proggism or another, preferably a mid-tempo exploration into some tonal anachronisms be they synths (“As Islands Sink”) or saxophones (“Fallow Garden”); eventually, build back up into that original riff to make it seem like the song had some contiguous throughline, and finally end with a pointless soundscape exercise that wipes the slate clean the next track’s foray along the same path. This sort of song structure works well once on an album; see “The Grand Conjuration” on the aforementioned Ghost Reveries—have we passed the point of too many Opeth comparisons—but it doesn’t work if it’s the only song structure used; when each song starts and ends at the same point, the album’s net distance traveled is zero.

The closer “Canicula” eschews the trend thankfully, making use of distinct female vocals, cello, and a lone acoustic guitar, that together surprisingly create the most somber and heavy tone found on the album. Although the track’s finale is not nearly as climactic enough for an album striving to such epic heights across its other songs, I do appreciate the effort of doing something different after so much of the same, even if it is too little too late.

So while Under the Shadow of a Foreign Sun may sound like Opeth returning to its death metal roots at face value, it seems that Piah Mater have yet to capture the refinement that made Opeth’s golden era so great, let alone find a truly original sound of their own. Guess we’ll just have to wait until the next Wilderun release for more of that sweet sweet progressive death metal; it’ll probably be better than anything Opeth ever made anyways.

Recommended tracks: In Fringes, Terra Dois
You may also like: Wilderun, In Vain
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Code666 Records – Facebook

Piah Mater is:
– Luiz Felipe Netto (Vocals, Guitars, Keyboards, String Arrangements)
– Igor Meira (Guitars)
– Luan Moura (Bass)
– Pedro Mercier (Drums)
– Isadora Melo (Vocals on ‘Canícula’)
– Jørgen Munkeby (Saxophone on ‘Fallow Garden’)
– Marta Garrett (Backing Vocals on tracks 1, 2 & 5)
– Jassy Mumin Gabriel (Backing Vocals on track 1)
– Daniel Albuquerque (Viola on tracks 5 & 6)
– Ayran Nicodemo (Violin on tracks 4, 5 & 6)
– Damian Bolotin (Violin on tracks 5 & 6)
– Joe Zeitlin (Cello on tracks 4 & 6)
– Bruno Serroni (Cello on track 5)
– Yuri Vilar (Flute on track 6)
– Mafram do Maracanã (Percussion on track 6)

The post Review: Piah Mater – Under the Shadow of a Foreign Sun appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: power metal, progressive metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Angra, Edu Falaschi, Shaman, also Angra
Country: Brazil
Release date: 31 May 2024

Angra’s Temple of Shadows is my favorite power metal album ever, bar none: it’s Auro Control’s, too. Since 1993 with debut record Angels Cry, Angra have been the kings of the Brazilian power metal scene, and they’re wildly revered, admired, and influential for nearly every melodic Brazilian metal band ever, but on Auro Control’s debut  album, The Harp, the group isn’t exactly subtle about the Angra worship. Angra-isms are to be expected, but with Aquiles Priester (Angra) as a feature and a near identical style, why would I ever choose to listen to Auro Control over Angra? These guys themselves love Temple of Shadows and surely know that no mere mimic could ever come close, especially on a first try. Immediately, I’m confused who Auro Control’s target audience is.

The first true track, “Feel the Fire”—I’ll let that sink in… (for those who don’t know, the first track on Temple of Shadows is “Spread Your Fire”)—is bombastic, catchy power metal with choral accents during the chorus, a scream of “FIIIIIIIIIIIIRE” that would make Edu Falaschi (ex-Angra) blush, and some satisfying guitar solos with sugary tones. Auro Control are clearly students and huge fans of Angra, and they’re remarkably accurate at parroting the band’s sound, yet as I mentioned, I’m not sure why I’d listen to this instead of Angra. The Harp suffers from an undynamic production style which takes away lots of the potential pop from the sound, and Lucas de Auro’s vocals, while admirable in range, currently lack the power that is necessary for power/prog, especially when compared to an Edu Falaschi. Making a surprising cameo, Jeff Scott Soto’s (ex-Sons of Apollo) gruff vocals fit in well with the style of “Not Alone” and elevate Auro’s vocals with their stylistic contrast. But in the end, The Harp is Angra with worse production and vocals.

On the instrumental side, however, Auro Control have much more spark, with Thiago Baumgarten on bass and guitarists Diego Pires and Lucas Barnery being absolute studs. The album lacks creativity, but they have a ton of talent—listen to the bass solo on the title track if you need more proof. Even the boring tracks like “Conception” and “Afterglow” are chock full of guitar solos that make my small shred-loving heart full. If  Pires and Barney stepped out of the shadow of the perfection of duo Kiko Loureiro and Rafael Bittencourt and merely used their influence on their style, a sophomore Auro Control album could feasibly be a solid standalone power metal album. 

Finally, what separates Angra from Auro Control most is Angra’s superior album structuring and more varied progressive elements. Temple of Shadows alternates between all-time power metal anthems and more slow-moving, adventurous tracks; Auro Control has the speed throttle turned all the way up for the majority of the album barring “Conception” and the incorporation of Brazilian folk elements and fretless bass in closer “Breaking Silence.” These guys sure can play power metal, but I’m craving more variety halfway through. Perhaps this comes with Brazilian heritage influences à la Angra featuring Milton Nascimento or perhaps it’s listening to some Dream Theater—I don’t know their creative process—but what I do know is that The Harp is sorely lacking despite the band’s competence.

Recommended tracks: Spread Your Fire, Temple of Hate, The Shadow Hunter, Wings of Destination, Wishing Well
You may also like: Angra
Final verdict: Angra ÷ 2 = 5/10

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

Label: Rockshots Records – Facebook | Official Website

Auro Control is:
– Thiago Baumgarten (bass)
– Davi Britto (drums)Thiago Baumgarten (bass)
– Diego Pires (guitars)
– Lucas Barnery (guitars)
– Lucas de Ouro (vocals)

The post Review: Auro Control – The Harp appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: prog metal, prog death metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Opeth?
Country: Brazil
Release date: May 3, 2024

I grew up going to Church because my parents intended for me to become a proper, God-fearing man. The weekly Sunday school, Catholic sacraments, late night Easter Vigil Masses, Church outreach events: I did it all. I also attended an extremely Christian middle school and then a Catholic high school. Y’know what they call those? Atheist machines. If my education didn’t steer me away from Christ, my first listen to Ben Baruk’s Cosmogony probably would have with its insipid Christian lyricism and its bloated, meandering runtime. 

After an endless intro replete with pointless spoken word, “Scene One: I. The Almighty Music” shows off the sole graces of Cosmogony: occasionally intriguing choir parts, synthesized horns done well to dramatic effect, and decent guitar solos. Yet in the moments in between those acceptable parts, I was subjected to uninspired chugs, a singer without the skill for conviction, whispers, spoken word, and cheesy synthestra, seemingly random transitions that transcend the capacity of my musical mind, programmed drum solos, out of tune notes (7:41 into “Scene Three: Designing the Reality”)… it goes on and on for sixty-nine minutes (the Lord’s number).

Like my musical arch nemesis, Max Enix, what Ben Baruk attempts is admirable in scope, detailing God’s very act of creation with an orchestral metal suite, several different singers, and a range of moods and styles, and like old Max, Ben Baruk is not cut out for it and should reconsider his approach to music. The same perplexing vocal lilt of Enix’s composition muddy the already strained singing performance—all styles suffer, from the gruff cookie-monster harshes to the forced soprano to the painfully inadequate lead male cleans. Even though I fundamentally disagreed with how Enix used his orchestra, at the very least it was real, and Ben Baruk suffers production hiccup after production hiccup with his synthesized strings often being lost under the programmed drums or the vocals lost under the strings. 

Cheap orchestra sounds are expected for up-and-coming underground bands, so you’d hope the riffs would at least be good. They’re woefully uninspired, chugging along similarly to bland djent but without any rhythmic complexity: I honestly was having flashbacks to the godawful Culak album I had to review. The non-metal sections are more entertaining than the programmed blasts, gruff harshes, and generic riffs, but the transitions between the two are never smooth and often the songs will stumble through riffs like a blind drunkard (PSA: watch out for stray Kia Souls). Each song is several minutes too long, several eclipsing the sacred ten minute mark.

Finally, the Christian lyrics would make even somebody devout roll their eyes. When “Holy Spirit / Holy Spirit / The only creator / The one who can give you life / Lord of existence / The imperishable flame” is sung in “Scene Five: The Imperishable Flame,” I almost threw up and certainly turned away from God, switching my music over immediately to Mayhem. The trite lyricism isn’t nearly as ambitious as the music, but it’s generally the same level of quality. I respect Ben Baruk’s efforts and want him to refine his craft, but if he is to promote his religious beliefs in this manner, he needs to present them with a compositional medium of care.

Recommended tracks: Scene One: II. Cognitive Dissonance, Scene Seven: Fall of the Firstborn
You may also like: Max Enix, Geres, Culak
Final verdict: 3/10

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

Label: Vision of God Records

Ben Baruk is:
– Lais Cunha (drums)
– Rafael Rodrigues (guitars)
– André Fernandes (guitars, vocals)
– Maria José(vocals)
– Cadu Matos (bass)

The post Review: Ben Baruk – Cosmogony appeared first on The Progressive Subway.