Style: Progressive Metal, Death Metal, Black Metal (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Opeth, Borknagar, In Mourning, old Leprous
Country: Finland
Release date: 13 June, 2025

A recurring conceptual puzzle that lingers in progressive music communities is whether artists can be considered “progressive” while treading over waters previously covered by other sonic adventurers. For example, a band can be technical in their utilization of progressive songwriting techniques, showcasing fairly unconventional compositions in the grand scheme of music creation. However, many critics will still complain that these bands are not “progressive” because their contributions have largely been done before. This stubborn desire that prog fans have for innovation creates tension with their love for music that replicates sounds established by influential artists in the scene.

It’s well within reason for these kinds of thoughts to creep in and out of one’s mind while listening to an album like Vitruvian Rays, the debut LP by Sargassus. It displays an interesting execution of many techniques spanning progressive death metal, melodic death metal, black metal, and jazz fusion. Additionally, Sargassus show an admirable ability to deconstruct the tropes of these genres and rearrange them in ways that we don’t often expect, but little provided here is particularly new or original – few times does it even offer material worth taking the time to come back to.

On a positive note, Sargassus display a talented understanding of harsh and soft dynamics in metal instrumentation. The drummer, Matias Rokio, often contrasts intense snare drums, double-bass kicks, and blast beats in moments of high impact with softer, jazzy, prog-induced fills in transitional interludes or moments of respite. The guitarist, Teemu Leskinen, begins nearly every track with a moody melodeath riff, and as the song progresses, mix and match levels of gain and distortion on that riff, and then alters that riff again tremolo-style during climaxes. Leskinen and Rokio mix and match these techniques with each other to obtain new combinations in moments, as though they are collecting them like trading cards. Vocalist, Matias Stenman, mostly sticks with deep, textured growls and gurgles, both of which sound notably experienced. On a few occasions, he will also present rather ominous, ritualistic chants that do wonders for the eerie vibe of the album. Bassist, Mertta Halonen, seems to be rather static, providing compositional continuity by keeping the other band members anchored in subtle grooves. The synthesis of these instrumental components creates a sound most similar to a band like In Vain, Opeth, or Dawn of Ouroboros. 

Sargassus often take riffs that sound derivative at first but develop them into something of their own. For example, the main riff from “The Lone Idunn Grows in Shade” sounds eerily reminiscent of “Dual Existence” by Enshine—a fellow progressive melodeath band—to the point where it almost sounds ripped off. Sargassus presents it acoustically, then they distort it, add growls, and slowly increase the intensity of the rhythm section. The riff is reverted back to acoustic, but now it’s backed with impressive-as-hell jazz-infused drum fills; then it’s distorted again and delivered through blackened tremolos accompanied by evil shrieks. As a cool down, the riff is presented undistorted acoustic again, this time, alongside some nasty growls which create a gestalt creepiness similar to the way Borknagar used to do aggressive growls on top of soft instrumentals. The execution is thoroughly fleshed out in an interesting way, even though I’m a stickler for riffs that sound like they’ve been done before.

The writing of “Pahat Veräjät” and “Carving the Veins of God” seem to have similar songwriting elements in mind; the former features sinister vocals and particularly progressive drumming, the latter having an ultra killer tremolo riff. These two tracks also showcase excellent band chemistry, each member contributing to a sum greater than its parts. Another outstanding track is “On the Shoulders of Atlas,” which subversively closes with an extended melody that lounges around with these layered guitar chords and ominous vocals. I love when tracks have unexpected song structures and/or close tracks unconventionally. However, the band totally missed out on developing this nice riff into an epic climax by building it up with a harsher intensity through their aforementioned black metal and death metal techniques. This extended closer could have been turned into a sublime climax and could have been the best track on the album, but instead ….

The rest of the tracks have less success. “Judgment of the Four” meanders around for a while and peaks with this super lukewarm guitar solo that doesn’t know if it’s supposed to be this glistening, melodic respite amongst the brutality or a showcase of technicality. The solo sort of rides a wave in the middle of the two, leaving it to sound rather unimpressive. The band seemed to go for a sound similar to An Abstract Illusion here (can you blame them?) but failed in execution. The other tracks that bookend the album are just boring. They don’t have catchy melodies, nor do they experiment much with the song dynamics like you would expect from a band inspired by Opeth or In Vain.

While the band showcases a thorough understanding of the contents of the scene they’re grounding themselves in, even pushing the bar in a few moments on the album, their success is too scattered and not compelling enough to make up for their flaws. I’d go further to argue that a lot of this debut is, in theory, doomed from the start since Sargassus takes too much from bands that came before them. Many of these influential bands had much greater creativity and presented more compelling melodies over a decade before Vitruvian Rays. If bands like Borknagar, Leprous, and Opeth can growl over melancholic riffs, jazzy drums, and the like—but do so with stronger hooks and more powerful emotion—new bands are going to need to think more outside the box to overcome the standard set by their predecessors.

Recommended tracks: Carving the Veins of God, Pahat Veräjät, On The Shoulders of Atlas
You may also like: In Vain, Dawn of Ouroboros, Stone Healer, Schammasch, Enshine, IER, Aenaon, Eternal Storm, She Said Destroy
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Independent

Sargassus is:
– Matias Stenman (vocals)
– Teemu Leskinen (guitar)
– Matias Roko (drums)
– Mertta Halonen (bass)

The post Review: Sargassus – Vitruvian Rays appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by: Benjamin König

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Label: Prophecy Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

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

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

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

Style: experimental, noise, dark ambient, industrial, avant-garde black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Merzbow, Ben Frost
Country: Finland
Release date: 13 June 2025

“A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral.” – Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince

Finnish experimental metal artist Oksennus sees a pile of rocks and grinds them to dust in his deconstruction of metal, like a postmodernist would, on his newest release(s): Auringolla Ei Ole Käsiä and its sibling EP Naama Ummessa. Metal is broken down to its atoms—distortion, percussion, and vocals—and reassembled in a completely novel way. The shorter of the two EPs, Auringolla Ei Ole Käsiä, works within the confines of two tracks, each precisely 13:00 long to construct its cathedral of broken riffs and vomitous¹ vocals. 

Taking up the first half of the release, “Loppu” plays around within a unique, uncompromising atmosphere. Microtonal guitars ramble onward until gurgling vocals à la the Demilich guy on ketamine dominate the foreground—although they often drop into the background as Oksennus use the mix as an ever-shifting playground for which texture dominates. In the background, various “whooshing” noises recall a variety of things: a muted train going “chugga chugga,” shoveling snow, falling down the stairs with an electric guitar. As ominous as the sounds are unusual, Oksennus shatters conceptions of genre by dragging his distinct style of black metal from rawness to beyond—a primally unrefined ambience.

Not until “Tuli” does Oksennus make his most revelatory strides within a strictly metal framework. Beginning with inescapable blast beats in the vein of Plague Organ, he quickly contorts the rhythms into free time atop a buzzsaw guitar. As the track progresses, drum parts collapse at the seams as complex arrangements of percussion are stitched together, seemingly recorded a couple of seconds at a time. Moreover, the demented ambient noise of the first track continues throughout “Tuli” but in increasingly distorted tones—bringing them more firmly into the world of metal along with the blast beats—transitioning between the sound of blowing a raspberry and the droning vibrations of the cicada. Like how the best black metal rebels against religion and/or mankind, Oksennus is a perversion of an inimical power structure, as well.

“There is no innovation and creativity without failure. Period.” – Brené Brown

In Oksennus’ case, they rebel against the human eardrum. Auringolla Ei Ole Käsiä is nearly unlistenable without suffering the risk of a migraine, the EP transcending the comprehensive capabilities of the human mind in 2025 CE. The experimental elements mentioned are hardly intentional. The guitars are microtonal because Oksennus doesn’t know how to tune his instrument; the mixing shifts in and out of focus from engineering ineptitude; and the time is free because he can’t even program a drum correctly. Auringolla Ei Ole Käsiä is proof that the postmodernists often become satire of themselves (look into Salvatore Garau, for instance). I don’t think that Auringolla Ei Ole Käsiä was truly going for something revolutionary nor was his take a postmodernist interpretation of metal intentionally². The world of the experimental, progressive, and avant-garde will always create missteps, and Auringolla Ei Ole Käsiä is chief among them, purely as a result of Oksennus’ radical incompetence in composition and performance.

Recommended tracks: Loppu
You may also like: Jute Gyte, Botanist, Simulacra, Plague Orphan
Final verdict: 2/10

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

Label: Sacrifical Dance – Bandcamp

Oksennus is:
– K. Olavi K.virta

1. Oksennus means “vomit” in Finnish! ︎
2.  It’s a testament to how silly postmodernism can be that I bet you believed me for the first chunk of the review. ︎

The post Review: Oksennus – Auringolla Ei Ole Käsiä appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Dream Theater, Haken, Circus Maximus, Threshold, Voyager
Country: Finland
Release date: 16 May 2025

I know this will come as a shock to readers of a website dedicated to the progressive music underground, but I hate modern mainstream pop. Pick a facet of a song in the genre—melody, rhythm, tempo, etcetera—and it has all largely homogenized into a single mold flattened to a I-V-vi-IV chord progression¹ at 100 BPM with a bass drop targeting TikTok virality. I’m not so elitist as to call all pop music shallow or worthless, but when accessibility comes first, anything musically interesting to me usually comes last. With that in mind, I’m often at a loss for words to explain why I love progressive metal that has a semblance of pop sensibility. Some of my favorite modern artists—like Protest the Hero or Periphery—have a knack for throwing in a poppy hook at just the right moment to recontextualize a phrase or an entire song.

On that note, Joviac’s Autofiction, Pt. 1 – Shards appears to have tossed its hat into the ring. Taking plenty of influence from progressive powerhouses like Dream Theater and Haken, these Finns blend those inspirations with a flair for prog popification that’s undeniably catchy. So catchy, in fact, that I thought I might end up writing them off as cliché…until I saw their Bandcamp page include “addictive hooks and even clichés” in their mission statement. Turns out they got there first—and honestly, I can’t hate on the sincerity. Shards’ third track “B.O.M.B.” perfectly illustrates this embrace of hooks and tropes. In one of the transitional sections of the song, the lyrics deliver repeated, stacked rhymes that feel like they have no meaning: “Containing it, maintaining it, restraining it. I’m torn apart by gravity, calamity, depravity. It’s off the chart, and I can’t explain or give a name for this pain. I’m losing my aim. So I have to keep—” repeating the phrase. It’s corny and cringey, but ear-wormy as hell nonetheless.

Such moments don’t mean that the progressive metal that makes up the core of Shards is taking a backseat, though. The album opens with two instrumental tracks. The first, “Level 1,” wouldn’t sound out of place on Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence, with its flowing yet staccato rhythm, power chord groove, and organ-like keyboard accompaniment. Comparatively, the soft and airy textures of “Haven” stand starkly against the preceding song, but the piece serves as more of an extended intro to the aforementioned “B.O.M.B.” Later in the album, another instrumental track (“Level 7”) provides a delightfully heavy start, transitioning into an infectious guitar riff while a punctuated synth tip-toes over the top that will have you rewinding the track before it even has a chance to finish.

By contrast, what follows “Level 7” is a purely vocal track which all the choir kids should love. “Open Eyes and Mind” beautifully adds an additional voice and builds more accord each time the song’s singular phrase repeats. Which leads me to vocalist/guitarist Viljami Jupiter Wenttola: I can’t say that his voice has the most striking or distinct timbre, and on the lower end he struggles to get into the baritone range that some moments of songs demand. But, as “Open Eyes and Mind” and tracks like “Canvas” illustrate, his sense of melody and harmony is so spot-on that those aforementioned foibles hardly merit a mention. Wenttola’s vocal lines are the primary bait on Joviac’s hook, and I’m biting every time.

If you only listen to one song off of Shards to see if it’s for you, I’d consider “Shine” the album’s exemplar. The snappy riffs, sing-along vocals, and addictive keyboard motifs all take turns calling for your attention, and while the song is relatively straightforward in terms of structure, the off-beat main melody and tastefully shredding guitar solos carry the progressive credentials into this pop concoction. “Canvas,” on the other hand, eschews pretty much all prog sensibilities to create a radio-rock, quasi-ballad single straight out of the ‘80s—and I’m a total sucker for it. Elsewhere, Joviac don’t shy away from the more progressive elements of their sound and songwriting, and songs like “Burn” and “Once” illustrate all of it—longer compositions, unconventional structures, and even a tasteful amount of djenty downtuned rhythm to give the songs a distinctly modern flair.

The Dream Theater worship that Shards puts on display should reel in any fans of the prog metal standard-bearers (you can’t see it but I’m raising my hand right now). Many clean tones mirror the glassy sound of Images and Words, while several of the the low-tuned, overdriven guitars have a distinctly Train of Thought liquid smoothness to them. Varied and distinct keyboard sounds, and a bass that does more than just provide the bottom end also contribute to this vibe. And—not to put too fine a point on the comparison—the closing notes that ring out in “Burn” are a descending melody that will sound familiar to anybody who put “Metropolis” (the song or album) in heavy rotation at some point in their life. About the only thing that The Pull Me Understudies don’t infuse from the masters at any point is the percussion. By and large, the drumming is quite reserved on Shards compared to most progressive metal, making sparing use of flashy fills or heavy double bass precision. The drums are mostly content to maintain the tempo, keep things moving, and let the other instruments do the showing off.

Make no mistake, though, the influence from The Progfessors doesn’t define Joviac’s sound on Shards. Their blend of progressive metal and catchy refrains grows on me with every spin, and that medley becomes more its own thing with each and every listen. Autofiction, Pt. 1 – Shards doesn’t just flirt with accessibility—it weaponizes it. While I still have a distaste for modern pop, Joviac might make me stop saying that out loud if they keep twisting it into something this dense and nerdy. I’m already eagerly awaiting Autofiction, Pt. 2.

Recommended tracks: Shine, Level 7, Once, B.O.M.B.
You may also like: Moron Police, Maraton, Lost in Thought, Virtual Symmetry
Final verdict: 8/10

Related Links: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram | Website | Metal-Archives

Label: Independent

Joviac is:
Viljami Jupiter Wenttola – Vocals, Guitar
Antti Varjanne – Bass
Johannes Leipälä – Guitar

1. This video is still as relevant as ever. Things have only homogenized further since. ︎

The post Review: Joviac – Autofiction, Pt. 1 – Shards appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

No artist credited

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Label: Prophecy Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

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

1.  A fancy way to say “book reviewer” ︎

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

Artwork by: Mohammed Khoirul Anam

Style: Deathgrind, Grindcore, Technical Death Metal, Progressive Death Metal (Harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Cattle Decapitation, The Red Chord, The Number Twelve Looks Like You
Country: Finland
Release date: 20 April 2025

The first time I heard saxophone in metal was “The Silent Life”, off Rivers of Nihil’s masterwork album, Where Owls Know My Name (2018), and needless to say I was hooked on those sultry tones and how they fed deliciously into the song’s thunderous grandiosity. Since then, I’ve heard it more and more, utilized by diverse acts like Operation Mindcrime, The Anchoret, The Faceless, White Ward, and Sleep Token, each time popping up like a reward; a tasty treat for my musical palate. But, I am admittedly, on occasion, a gluttonous being, not always well-known for regulating my sweet-tooth. I want saxophone to be more than a gimmicky addition, but it often feels like a dream, one never to be realized.

Color me shocked when I discovered dreams can come true in the form of Blastanus, a DIY deathgrind/epicsaxgrind act hailing from Finland. They dropped two loads in the late aughts / early 2010s (Odd and Collapse) then promptly vanished to a changing room before returning a decade later to squat out a single “Agathusia” and full-length Beyond in 2022. Now in 2025, the ass-blasting trio of Antti Oksanen (vocals, guitars, bass), Henri Fredriksson (drums), and Kari Vakiparta (vocals) have returned freshly-britched and with longtime session brasskicker Jussi Hurskainen (saxophone) in tow for another toilet-terrorizer in Land of the Weak, Home of the Slave. Can these Finnish flatulators convince me of the saxiness of their particular brand? Or will I need to break out the Febreze?

I’m not one to normally pledge to the cause of grindcore, though I do find its compact stylings and breakneck insanity an occasional source of catharsis when the sadboi-core just ain’t cutting it. There’s an artistry to crafting bite-sized vectors of songcraft from which genuine listening value can be excised. The genre also lends itself to heightened levels of emotion (usually aggression, angst, pain, etc.), with acts like Closet Witch unloading dark matter heaps of suffering in a minute or less, leading to a hyper-injection of feelings that my instant-gratification lizard brain sometimes craves. Blastanus are certainly poised to scratch that scaly itch. On the (w)hole, Land of the Weak, Home of the Slave rips through its thirty-five minute runtime with all the jarring lethality of a post-McChicken bathroom break after clearing the obligatory mid-paced sampler platter that is opener “Inauguration”—a roller-coaster climb before the cheek-clenching freefall into the corkscrew riffage, machine-gun drumming, shredding roars and porcine squeals, and decadent saxophone to follow.

Oh, the saxophone. I wasn’t prepared for just how entrenched Mr. Hurskainen is on the album: he appears on twelve of the fifteen tracks, and in various configurations: Smooth n’ sexy (“Mephitic,” “Drones”), moody and accentual (“Bloodlines,” “Justice System,” “Janedoe”), and as a Weapon of Jazz Destruction (“Cencorship” [sic]). The way he weaves and saunters around the general chaos of his bandmates’ sonic slaughter is, quite honestly, impressive and a genuine highlight of the record. It’s nice to hear the instrument included in a full capacity rather than clinched to a particular moment or style, to be shaken down for its prog-points and then discarded.

Sadly, the rest of Blastanus’ ripping and tearing feels rote and unfortunately forgettable when stacked against the brass. Most of Land of the Weak, Home of the Slave whips through one ear and out the other; few things in its thirty-five minutes generate the staying power necessary to achieve the kind of earworm constipation I seek from music. There’s an entertainment factor here, for sure, but the realization I came to as I spun the record again and again was this: Hurskainen is the not-so-secret saxy sauce. Take him out of the mix and what remains is admittedly fun, but mostly forgettable technical deathgrind. The guitars rip like a renegade chainsaw. Fredriksson’s drumming would make The Flash quake. There are inspired moments where Blastanus clench up on the aural chaos to drop some interesting nuggets: a power metal-flavored solo on “Class Warfare,” the neo-noir bass-and-saxophone chill of “Drones,” “Justice System’s” knuckle-dragging slam, or the weirdly epic ten-minute closer “Don’t Vote,” which serves as a sort of super-cut of what the album offers across its more bite-sized morsels. But despite all the flavoring, there’s little that holds me beyond the simple dopamine hit that ridiculously brutal music can provide—not even Oksanen’s railing against our corrupt governments and generally trash society. His vocals are fun and fit the style, but lack the kind of soul-flensing evocations a’la Mollie Piatetsky (Closet Witch) capable of transporting me to states of emotional extremes. Also, why is “Jane Doe” so loud? It hits like a jump scare, feeling at odds with how the preceding tracks had been mixed.

While discussing Blastanus with my fellow Subway riders, a colleague referred to the inclusion of saxophone as a “dumb gimmick.” I didn’t necessarily agree, but repeat exposure has revealed a kernel of truth here: The biggest reason to recommend Land of the Weak, Home of the Slave is the novelty of Hurskainen’s saxophone. Without him, there’s little staying power in Blastanus’ latest gas. That’s a shame, too, because I love how fully they’ve incorporated the saxophone into the totality of the album. However, by making the sax less of a feature it’s oddly become something of a bug, breaking the album by revealing the relative banality of what surrounds it. If brutal noise and sultry tones is your jam, then you’ll probably have fun with Land of the Weak, Home of the Slave. I sure did. Like SpongeBob ripping his pants, though, there’s only so many times you can do something before the schtick starts to get old and it’s time to look elsewhere for entertainment.

Recommended tracks: Bloodlines, Drones, Justice System, Don’t Vote
You may also like: Closet Witch, Nightmare Unit, Infiltration, Replicant, Brain Stem
Final verdict: 4/10

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

Label: Independent

Blastanus is:
– Antti Oksanen (bass, vocals, guitars, songwriting, lyrics)
– Henri Fredriksson (drums)
– Kari Vakiparta (vocals)
– Jussi Hurskainen (saxophone)

The post Review: Blastanus – Land of the Weak, Home of the Slave appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Melodic death metal, metalcore, progressive metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Dark Tranquillity, Orbit Culture, In Flames, Arch Enemy, Lamb of God
Country: Finland
Release date: 25 April 2025

One of the biggest draws to metal as a genre is the fact that, at this point, it’s hardly a genre in any meaningful sense. If you choose carefully, you can pick about a hundred different bands from different corners of the metal universe, and not a single one will sound anything like another—their only commonality being the overarching genre tag they hold haphazardly. No matter your taste or mood, there’s something for you within metal’s vast expanse: fast and riffy, dissonant and crushing, introspective and atmospheric, technical, accessible, melancholic, heady, visceral, you get the point. The more my taste matures, the wilder it gets, and the more time I spend wandering the genre’s outer reaches. But sometimes the monkey part of my brain pulls me back toward the center. Give me some groovy riffs and shiny melodic leads, and I’ll forget all about that eighteen-minute, dissonant, avant-black track in the queue.

Enter Echoes of the Extinct with their debut LP Era of Darkness. I don’t mean to paint the album as overly simple—it has some progressive leanings and blistering chops—but primarily, these Finns center their sound on big, chugging guitars augmented by melodic death metal flairs. Clocking in at an even thirty minutes, Era of Darkness promises a quick, satisfying fix of head-bashing music; something to knock those primal cravings into submission so I can get back to whatever pretentious subgenre of a subgenre I was exploring. So, how does this jaunt toward the center of the metal universe fare? 

Drawing inspiration from their Nordic neighbors, Echoes of the Extinct’s guitars fill Era of Darkness with Gothenburg-style riffing and leads, and the vocal delivery often resembles the likes of Dark Tranquillity and In Flames. The straightforward melodeath influence shines brightest during choruses, those in “Empathy” and “Virus” sounding like they were plucked right from the late ‘90s Gothenburg scene: riffy, melodic, catchy, and energized without being overly technical. Although generic, the band does the style justice. But these melodeath features lie atop and decorate a metalcore-tinged foundation of heavy, rolling chugs reminiscent of Orbit Culture. In theory, these styles should coalesce in an extremely digestible mix of groovin’ low-string riffs balanced by faster melodic ones, shimmering leads, and big hooks—something to get the blood pumping and the head bobbing. In practice, though, that’s not how Era of Darkness plays out. 

For an album reliant on groove, Era of Darkness never lets you settle into a rhythm for long. Right when a nod-inducing pattern begins to take hold, Echoes of the Extinct take you somewhere else—they either speed you up and abruptly send you back to Gothenburg, or move you over to a different set of chugs that don’t quite complement the ones before. The experience is one of whiplash, stylistically and physically. “Last Page,” for example, is composed almost entirely on top of chugs, yet locking onto the underlying rhythm is like playing a game of whack-a-mole. The middle of “Virus” similarly bounces the listener around aimlessly, which is unfortunate because the track is bookended by some of the album’s catchiest melodeath material. The guitar and drum parts in “Virus” were evidently written independently and then put together, and it shows—in fact, the drum-guitar connection feels out of sync throughout the entire album. Still, it’s the penultimate track “Conflict” that’s the hardest to follow, as an all too fraught combination of styles, passages, and rhythms is packed almost randomly into less than a four-minute runtime. The band manufactures complexity when flow is what’s sorely needed.

To be sure, Echoes of the Extinct display potential. Although far from innovative, the interplay between the guitars is mature beyond what you’d expect from a debut, and the most enjoyable aspect of Era of Darkness is how well the lead melodies play off the foundational riffs. The vocalist also turns in a solid performance, with his strong choruses and sense of timing bringing some focus to an uncentered album. Perhaps a forgivable sign of youthful exuberance, Echoes of the Extinct simply stuff too much into a thirty-minute release. As a result, no one part stands out. Providing the numerous ideas room to breathe, and giving deeper thought to how and why one passage leads to the next, would have helped untangle the album into a more coherent experience for the listener. Opening tracks “Remedy” and “Empathy” are the most comprehensible and come closest to that impactful, squarely “metal” sound the album was poised to deliver, but on the whole, Era of Darkness misses the mark.

Alas, my trip back toward the center of the metal universe was an unsuccessful one. The should-be-satisfying groove and Gothenburg elements of Era of Darkness are marred by disjointed songwriting, and without flowing more naturally, the tracks’ component pieces aren’t compelling enough to stand on their own. But, while I’m here near the center, I may as well indulge—Dark Tranquillity’s Character should do. Then it’s back to those outer reaches, to answer important questions like whether an experimental drone and doom metal track justifies its thirty-five-minute runtime.

Recommended tracks: Remedy, Empathy
You may also like: Aversed, Allegaeon, Burial in the Sky
Final verdict: 4.5/10

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

Label: Inverse Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Echoes of the Extinct is:
– Kalle Hautalampi (bass)
– Jarmo Jääskeläinen (drums)
– Juuso Lehtonen (guitars)
– Tero Ollilainen (vocals)

The post Review: Echoes of the Extinct – Era of Darkness appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Black metal, folk metal (Mixed vocals, mostly harsh)
Recommended for fans of: Moonsorrow, Saor, Dissection, Immortal
Country: Finland
Release date: 28 February 2025

We’ve all been there: you’re out enjoying your commune-with-nature, and all of a sudden, a bunch of bishops stroll into town and try to upend your way of life. Those guys are absolute jerks, thinking they can come in without fanfare and force you into a completely new belief system. Wouldn’t it just be better if they, I don’t know, were chased into the forests to the north? The people of 13th-century Finland can’t help but agree, and black metal outfit Havukruunu are here to recount the story of how the Tavastians reclaimed their pagan traditions on latest record Tavastland. Will you revel in their tale, or is this a piece of history best left forgotten? 

Havukruunu’s brand of pagan black metal is reminiscent of fellow Finns Moonsorrow, composing tracks with a base of anthemic riffage and extended instrumental breaks. On Tavastland, they adorn their sound with any number of cinematic embellishments, typically through group chanting (“Yönsynty”, “Unissakävijä”), larger-than-life solos (“Kuolematon Laulunhenki”, “De Miseriis Fennorum”), or folk interludes (”Kuoleman Oma”, “Havukruunu ja Talvenvarjo”). Tavastland’s compositions are fairly unstructured, preferring to wander from riff to riff while retaining a central mood, though opener “Kuolematon Laulunhenki” makes a point to reprise its opening ideas at its end. Through voice-overs accompanied with a haunting owl-like flute, the album recounts vignettes from the villagers’ perspective just before the exile of Tavastia’s bishops in the 13th century.

When working within a less structured songwriting framework, moment-by-moment interest becomes paramount to retaining the listener’s attention. Havukruunu by and large succeed at this on Tavastland, particularly when leaning fully into aggressive black metal passages. “Kuolematon Laulunhenki” utilizes a bevy of playing styles to maintain interest, adding lightning-speed flourishes to the opening ideas and effortlessly transitioning from chunky mid-paced riffage to a chilling solo later in the track. “Havukruunu ja Talvenvarjo” features some of Tavastland’s best riffs, iterating on an ethereal and hypnotic motif that begins as an impassioned trek across a moonlit snowy forest and ends contemplative and heartbroken. Closer “De Miseriis Fennorum” effectively utilizes a similar trick in its middle section, recontextualizing spellbinding tremolos over a series of morphing drum patterns, each giving the riff a distinct feel and creating a sense of motion while staying in the same place melodically. The final moments of “De Miseriis Fennorum” are distinctly free-form with a wall of buzzing guitars and strings giving way to a lonely wind, alluding to the slow and icy death of the exiled Tavastian bishops.

Strong guitarwork comprises the core of Tavastland’s sound: a track’s success is contingent on the success of its riffs. Conversely, this means that when the riffs don’t work, the songs don’t quite work either, as the undeniably enjoyable folk facets aren’t quite able to hold up Havukruunu’s compositions alone. As a consequence, about half of Tavastland’s tracks are wholly adrenaline-pumping forays into the harsh wilderness, and the other half are one part spectacular and one part serviceable at best. This dip in excitement typically happens when the band slows down, as their ability to write more languid pieces doesn’t entirely stand toe-to-toe with their faster, more aggressive moments. “Yönsynty”, for example, features a spectacular beginning with gorgeous riff-chant interplay, but loses steam by its end at the hands of relatively anonymous riffage. “Kuoleman Oma” suffers the same problem in reverse: the track takes a bit too long to build momentum around its acoustic beginnings, though it closes on an ascendant solo that charges headfirst into tumbling and powerful guitar melodies. Additionally, the track features gorgeously intertwining acoustic guitar and bass halfway through, showing that the band are indeed capable of writing compelling passages both fast and slow.

Embellished by somber folk instrumentation and a menacing historical retelling, Tavastland rarely takes a break from its unrelenting wintry assault. When leaning into its more aggressive tendencies, the album shines the most, expertly iterating and recontextualizing riffs in a free-form songwriting framework. Though Tavastland never descends into unlistenability, its noticeable lulls do cause the experience to drag at times. Nonetheless, Havukruunu have once again proven their acumen for black metal songwriting and demonstrated themselves as worthy bearers of the crown of pinecones.

Recommended tracks: Havukruunu ja Talvenvarjo, Kuolematon Laulunhenki, Tavastland, De Miseriis Fennorum
You may also like: Ungfell, Thrawsunblat, Cân Bardd, Fellwarden
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Svart Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Havukruunu is:
– Stefa (vocals, guitars, keyboards)
– Bootleg-Henkka (guitars)
– Humö (bass)
– Kostajainen (drums)

The post Review: Havukruunu – Tavastland appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Album Art by Mikko Parkkonen / Aarni Visuals

Style: Djent, Alternative Metal (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Spiritbox (earlier), VOLA, Voyager
Country: Finland
Release date: 14 February 2025

Probably one of the most frustrating things in general for musical critique is when there is overt obsession with comparing bands singularly to whatever band does their genre best or is the current flavor of the day/week/year. While helpful for establishing a baseline, it often can be a bit reductive in totality, as a summation of a separate piece of work to be “of another” in some aspect. With this in mind, most of us here try to do exactly that: establish baselines of what something will initially feel like without leaning too much on comparisons to known quantities to give a judgment on a body of work. So with that all out of the way, let’s get this out of the way: Rioghan is a female-led djenty alternative metal project, and as such the Spiritbox comparisons are immediate from the outset (It was even on our internal submission spreadsheet. It is inescapable!). 

On latest album Kept, the Finnish outfit compose their sound much in the way many of these newer wave of melody-oriented low tuned alt metal bands do: baseline riffs or djent motifs that pop their head in and out of a song to establish a groove, lush wall-of-sound choruses to evoke a pop or mainstream rock feel (while keeping the low tuned aspect), and intermittent diversions from these in different ways to remind you “yes, we are dynamic and nuanced”. It’s a formula because it does work at a baseline; if you are good enough composers and riff writers, with a sufficiently good vocalist, you are guaranteed to make something catchy and agreeable. So then the question becomes: is this an album to be Kept around for future listens?

“Dreams” opens Kept in a form exactly as mentioned before: orchestration sets the mood before everything drops in on a djent groove riff to get the head nodding. This drops off to a lower dynamic tom-groove verse, introducing vocalist Rioghan Darcy in a slightly breathy intimate tone, before moving to a more fully arranged vocal stack sound in the chorus. “Dreams” continues in a modern verse/chorus/verse song structure before ending with Kept’s first taste of harsh vocals over top of the original groove riff. “Hands” focuses a bit more on this harsh vocal sound, though it does make room, as most of these songs do, for at least a couple lush choruses. From here, the songs continue these patterns, with small diversions into more synth sound focus, particularly on “Edge” and “Distance”, and various degrees of clean/harsh vocal balance. 

“Hopes” becomes the first true side street taken on Kept, highlighting its alternative instrumentation with verses led along by drifting accordion and acoustic guitar strumming, before giving way to a violin solo. This song still contains the alternative/pop-esque chorus visits, but the focus on layering orchestration as opposed to a synth+low guitar wall of sound gives a pleasant contrast to the album, and honestly may be its highest point.  “Red” is a final taste of the band experimenting with alterations to their formula: earlier releases and bios allude to the fact they act one time collaborated with Leprous vocalist Einar Solberg, and “Red” feels like a potential remnant of that time, its rhythmic guitar motif being reminiscent of tacks from Pitfalls or Aphelion (the best Leprous albums, fight me nerds), with the drumming and bass stabs over this motif teasing that feel as well. Darcy floats over these parts gracefully, and the final payoff from the motif building constantly is satisfying. 

The instrumental sounds are all solid and well done, perhaps a bit in the way of being a bit too on-the-nose for the sound and genre to really pique interest—these are all the expected tones and feelings of these instruments for this current subset of alternative metal, so it’s a bit hard to grab at one and say anything about it necessarily except “yes, this sounds good”. The drums pound through the mix in that large boxy way, the guitars are sufficiently huge in the ears and menacing in that clean-cut pop-djent way, and the bass holds down what it needs to, ever so often popping in to say “I’m here too, I promise”. The vocals when clean are well performed, produced, and layered. The harsh vocals leave a bit to be desired, as Darcy’s harsh tone tends to come in a bit thin, high, and pushed, and succeed most when pushed a bit back or layered with singing, or built on themselves with much more scream layers. 

Overall, Kept is a decent showing for this well-trodden sound, though it doesn’t do much to separate itself from its peers. This album succeeds most with its choruses, which are genuinely well arranged, catchy, and get stuck in your head immediately. Everything around that serves mostly as connective tissue to those choruses, outside of the diversions mentioned on “Hopes” and “Red”, likely Kept’s most successful moments. If you like the current vibe of alternative low-tuned metal with a leaning for melody and big sound, this will definitely hit your ears well, though it may not change your world.

Recommended tracks: Dreams, Hopes, Red
You may also like: Glass Ocean, Maraton, Valis Ablaze, External
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Inverse Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Rioghan is:
– Rioghan Darcy (vocals)
– Teemu Liekkala (guitar & keys)
– Tero Luukkonen (guitar)
– Antti Varjanne (bass)
– Valtteri Revonkorpi (drums)

The post Review: Rioghan – Kept appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal, metalcore (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Between the Buried and Me, early The Contortionist
Country: Finland
Release date: 8 November 2024

Earlier in the year, myself and my colleague Zach tag teamed a little album called Reconciliation by ALMO. Despite making a few ripples in the underground, we were less than impressed because of the tendency to borrow liberally from other bands: homages to Periphery, Devin Townsend, Haken and Between the Buried and Me abounded, sometimes so blatantly as to be offensive. This week, I was in our little music detective office with my feet up, smoking a stogie and sipping whisky listening to a jazz record when Zach came into the office: “Gee, boss,” he said, “There’s another case of musical homage gone awry. We’d better investigate.”

“TO THE PROGMOBILE!”

Coma Control’s debut Perennial starts well enough; the Between the Buried and Me influence is palpable in the sweeping solo over portentous chords, but we can forgive a little influence, can’t we? And sure, when the harsh vocals come in, you do think “hey, this guy really sounds like Tommy”, but a lot of singers sound like other singers, right? Unfortunately, as you get further into the album, it becomes apparent that Coma Control are determined to stand in the shadow of the one band they’ve heard. Of course, BTBAM are one of the most talented and complex bands in the prog scene; sounding this much like them takes a hell of a lot of talent, it just doesn’t suggest an original sound.

But perhaps I’m being unfair. To their credit, Coma Control jettison the zany tangents that are so indelible to BTBAM’s sound, and they lean on the heavier side, occasionally veering into melodeath as on the opening to “Scour the Air” or the majority of “Mending Arms”. This is the jewel in Perennial’s crown, opening with an eerie tribal rhythm and segueing into a delicious melodeath riff, the entire song highlights a slightly more original mode of composition with adventurous chords and blast beats providing a template of how Coma Control could evolve beyond their influences. 

In the meantime, however, we have to contend with the… let’s call them ‘homages’. The calm mid-section on “Scour the Air” is ripped straight out of Parallax II, and closing track “Don’t Sleep or You’ll Fall” opens with a riff that’s far too close to the staccato climactic riff in “Silent Flight Parliament”. “Reunion: Regression”, meanwhile, borrows a little too liberally from “Memory Palace”. Sometimes the homages are less blatant but still noticeable—“Don’t Sleep or You’ll Fall”, for example, ends in a theatrical manner which feels just like “Goodbye to Everything”; I believe the young folk call this ‘writing in the same font’. We’ve said it a hundred times: sound too much like another artist and all you’re going to do is give the listener a hankering to listen to them instead of you; as Julian Barnes once put it, “who wants plonk when you can get château bottled?”

Coma Control aren’t the first band to sound really similar to a band they admire, nor will they be the last, but it’s simply not that interesting to listen to a band whose guiding compositional philosophy seems to be a WWBTBAMD bracelet. Certainly, it takes talent to sound this much like one of progressive metal’s most beloved acts, but it takes more talent to develop your own original take on that sound. Coma Control demonstrate that they could do that with tracks like “Mending Arms” but first they need to lay their ghosts to rest.

Recommended tracks: Mending Arms, Scour the Air
You may also like: Luna’s Call, ALMO, Rototypical
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Independent

Coma Control is:
– Tapio Honka (probably everything? All I’ve got to go on is Metallum)

The post Review: Coma Control – Perennial appeared first on The Progressive Subway.