Style: Atmospheric sludge metal, avant-garde metal, poetry (Spoken word, harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Isis, Neurosis, Chat Pile, Thou, Mizmor
Country: Canada / Maryland, United States
Release date: 25 April 2025

‘We didn’t demand more from a democracy of monsters.’

The grimy post-apocalyptic imagery conjured by post-rock and avant-garde artists like Godspeed You! Black Emperor and Ashenspire are sharp critiques of the hostile world crafted by modern society. Canadian sludge metallers Sumac explored similar themes and soundscapes on their 2024 opus, The Healer, but with a balmy twist: Aaron Turner and co. find beauty and catharsis among the aftermath, exploring healing as a non-linear process in a series of cacophonous, improvised sludge metal pieces. On their latest release, The Film, Sumac join forces with industrial hip-hop artist Moor Mother, crunching the scope of The Healer’s pieces down to relatively bite-sized movements and giving them structure through spoken word. How does The Film play out?

The atonal warbling of Sumac’s guitars adorn the crooked canvas of “Scene 1”. Seas of crumbling gray buildings stretch beyond the horizon, and the mind desperately claws for tonality and rhythm among the scraping dissonance of Aaron Turner’s guitarwork. Figures and forms almost coalesce in the coarse and mangled chords; by design, they’re just a bit too out of reach to fully form into a cogent shape. The listener is left to sit in anxious ambiguity as a consequence. Then, a voice materializes from the rubble, a rudder to a vessel with no form. First distorted, then yanked into clarity, it calls out:

‘I want my breath back.’

Throughout “Scene 1”, Moor Mother sneers in the face of an invasive hegemony through spoken word poetry, unearthing a siren call against the Colonialist tendrils that push into the scree’s every crevice. We’re told over and over that the kudzu has died, but she insists that anyone with a keen eye can see how its roots continue to spread and how its vines choke out the grove’s most vulnerable.

‘That’s why we don’t believe. We don’t believe. We don’t believe. We. Don’t. Believe. WE—DON’T—BELIEVE.’

Among the swirling cataclysm laid down by Sumac, Moor Mother exudes both a razor-sharp focus in spoken-word verses and an assertive bluntness in her punctuated litany. By way of hypnagogic paranoia in “Scene 2: The Run”, war-torn landscapes in “Scene 5: Breathing Fire”, and frustrated inner conflict in “Camera”, Moor Mother anchors The Film, cleverly intertwining her poetry with amorphous and wailing instrumentation. Calls of ‘So long they’ve been hating, waiting, debating how to keep you enslaved / Better lose your mind, lose your mind, lose your mind, lose your mind / Run away, better lose your mind / Hurt off, dust off, hate off, change off, devil off / Better run and lose your mind’ on “Scene 4” exemplify The Film’s percussive lambasts, branding themselves onto the surface of your mind with each repetition and leaving behind no ambiguity in her snarling conviction.

Though some moments come across a bit referential for my tastes (e.g., a reference to the Whip and Nae Nae on “Scene 3”, and a callout to Blue’s Clues on “Scene 5: Breathing Fire”), Moor Mother’s approach is overwhelmingly effective as a whole. The sentiments on “Camera”, for example, are masterfully executed, cleaved in two as tension is forged between opposing forces. On one hand, her lyricism portrays a strong desire to be cognizant of injustices and engage in activism against them; on the other, a pang to ‘stick one’s head in the sand’ emerges, as the deluge of nightmares constantly surfaced is simply too much for a single person to bear. The effect is heightened when Moor Mother’s voice takes on an unearthly form, malleated into a down-pitched, ominous panopticon:

‘Let the camera do the talking. Don’t look away. Don’t look away. Don’t. Look. Away. Let the camera do the talking. Get away, get away, get away, get away, get away, get away.’

Moments of clarity and conventional song structure occasionally bubble to The Film’s surface. “The Truth is Out There” utilizes consonance and pleasant textures, acting as a small palate cleanser before The Film’s mammoth closer. Even in its more melodic passages, though, Sumac opt to use oblique, eccentric chord choices to keep the listener from getting too comfortable in their sense of levity. “Scene 3” features a relatively standard post-metal song structure, slowly building into a massive apex and crushing the listener under pounding drumwork and frantic reiteration of ‘In the way of our dreams…’ by its end.

“Scene 2: The Run”, in contrast, teeters between the more constructed and the more nebulous: the thrumming, pulsating bass across its runtime acts as an oscillating searchlight, keeping its sparse soundscape grounded. Led by Moor Mother’s poetry, one has a brief window to dive between concrete crags and reach shelter between the rumbling flashes. Intensity ebbs and flows, exploring dissonant tremolos and weighty dirges but each time returning to the searchlight’s bassy thrum. The track’s closing moments unveil a climax of explosive drum grooves, hypnotic, swirling guitar chords, and ghoulish howls. The crumbled remains coalesce into a tumbling, horrific golem, shattering off pieces of itself as it thrashes about.

‘Memories. Looping. Dead. Sky is. Falling. Falling. Blood. Red. Blood. Blood. Red. Blood.’

“Scene 5: Breathing Fire” is a consummation of The Film’s elements, a Chekhov’s Arsenal of ideas and techniques introduced earlier in its runtime. Anchored by Moor Mother’s poetry, the track melts and morphs between stillness and intensity, smoothness and texture, consonance and dissonance; its introductory moments beget premonition of something more chaotic, more violent, and more powerful than anything encountered up to this point.

‘War breath always breathes—fire. Time’s in neglect, and I’ll see you on the other side. I’ll see you on the other side.’

The instrumentals bear a laserlike focus: whereas before the rhythms lumbered in dissonant chaos, they now punch the back of your head with militaristic precision.

‘I need a moment. I need a moment. Sorting through snakes and serpents. I need an omen.’

The patterns aren’t quite discernible at first glance, using basic rhythmic building blocks in spectacularly odd meter. Tension builds around drums that congeal through kinetic cymbal splashes.

‘We’re in the boxing rings and fighting for our lives. Fighting for our lives. FIGHTING. FOR. OUR. LIVES.’

An instrumental bomb drops. Sumac settle in to a bulldozing groove while Moor Mother summons an apocalyptic fury, snarling overtop magnitude ten forces.

‘I PRAY THE TIDES GO. I PRAY THE TIDES GO. I PRAY THE TIDES GO THE WAY OF THE WOLVES. THE WAY OF THE WOLVES. AND OUT COME THE WOLVES. AND OUT COME THE WOLVES. TAKE WARNING. TAKE WARNING. TAKE CAUTION, TAKE. OFF. RUNNING. TAKE OFF RUNNING. TAKE OFF RUNNING. TAKE—OFF—’

The gravity of the instrumentals outmatches their stability, and “Scene 5” begins to deconstruct. A familiar chaos creeps back in as guitars melt into buzzing warbles and the frantic jingling of chimes fill every inch of negative space. A wailing, trembling guitar solo attempts to push back against the bubbling waves of bass, but the exertion of the two is too much, and the entire piece collapses. Little is left other than guitar scrapes, squeaks, and cresting cymbal washes.

‘Basic instructions before leaving Earth. Basic instructions before leaving Earth…’

For the first time during The Film, an unabashedly tranquil space is broached. Guitars amble around plaintive chords, and drums gently lilt along. The final stretch of “Scene 5” exudes catharsis, releasing a tension that’s been building since the record’s first moments and giving the listener space to rest and reflect.

‘I. Want. My. Change. But what do we return to? But what do we return to? What do we return to?’

In The Film’s calm aftermath, only pebbles and ash remain; in this dust is the space for something new to grow. The Film is at the same time heartbreakingly concrete and nightmarishly surrealist, juxtaposing dissonant sludgy improvisation against a spellbinding voice that confidently leads the traveler through a forsaken barrens. Despite a spate of horrific injustices and efforts from every corner to oppress, intimidate, and silence marginalized groups, we must continue to strike away at what makes us human, and at the same time fight to make the world something more than a place not designed for us.

Recommended tracks: Scene 5: Breathing Fire, Camera, Scene 2: The Run
You may also like: BÅKÜ, Ashenspire, Five the Hierophant, Lathe
Final verdict: 9/10

Related links (Sumac): Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram | Metal-Archives
Related links (Moor Mother): Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label – Thrill Jockey Records: Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Sumac is:
– Aaron Turner (guitars, vocals)
– Nick Yacyshyn (drums, percussion, synths)
– Brian Cook (bass)
Moor Mother is:
– Camae Ayewa (vocals, synths)
With guests:
– Candice Hoyes (vocals, track 3)
– Kyle Kidd (vocals, track 4)
– Sovei (vocals, track 5)

The post Review: Sumac, Moor Mother – The Film appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Sludge metal, experimental post-metal, drone (Harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Lathe, Big|Brave, Mizmor, Five the Hierophant, Thou
Review by: Dave
Country: Canada
Release date: 21 June 2024

My taste in music generally leans towards the cheesy, the fantastical, and the dramatic: albums like Amorphis’s Silent Waters and Seventh Wonder’s The Great Escape are my bread and butter, showcasing passion and storytelling in a borderline saccharine manner. However, I am a man (read: gay little forest goblin) of many facets, and I, too, like to indulge in things that are dissonant, angry, and bizarre on occasion, whether it be the untethered intensity of The Dillinger Escape Plan’s Dissociation or the psychedelic explorations of The Mars Volta’s Frances the Mute. So when I hear of Sumac’s The Healer and its dark, unsettling sludge improvisation, I’m curious to try it out, despite the chance that it sits well outside my tastes. Will Sumac buck the traditional Dave taste trends, or will The Healer’s healing message fall completely on deaf ears?

A name like Sumac would suggest a shady tree in a meadow with perhaps a slight air of contemplativeness, but this is about as far from Sumac‘s approach as you can get: their music is gray, decaying, and occasionally menacing. The Healer is the logical conclusion to the imagery of Ashenspire‘s Hostile Architecture, where a dystopian hellscape designed to make you suffer has finally collapsed in its entirety and all that remains are rubble and the shell of a former civilization. Moments of vile intensity are juxtaposed against droning feedback where your gaze cannot be pulled from the weathered skyline until you’re buried under yet another tower crumbling underneath its fractured structure. The Healer is a good illustration of how catharsis and the healing process are often non-linear and occasionally outside of our control, as both moments of dread and moments of brief brightness are often bookended by droning improvisational sections, a faint glimmer of hope apparent in lyrics that juxtapose grim imagery with optimistic symbolism, such as “World of Light”’s “Rats stir, quiver / Under sun’s unbidden pallor / Oh, muted hearts / Through clasped hands glimmer / Shine!” and my personal favorite, “New Rites”’s “From flesh and fallow limbs / Petals open.”

The Healer luxuriates in moods and atmospherics, with extended and feedback-heavy guitarwork making up a considerable chunk of the album, but Sumac are also not afraid to incorporate heavier, more focused moments where they are needed. Incomprehensibly huge opener “World of Light” drifts in and out of improvised sections, but fills its last two minutes with an explosion of Opeth-gone-dissodeath riffs; “Yellow Dawn” starts off in a similar fashion to “World of Light,” but a third of the way through slides into an aggressive and psychedelic jam with squealing guitars, pummeling drums, and thick rumbling bass; “New Rites” sits the longest in sludge territory, including the heaviest drum instrumentation on the album, coalescing with The Dillinger Escape Plan-esque buzzy jazz guitarwork to positively crush the listener to smithereens before closing on an emotive guitar solo accented with powerful drum stabs; and “The Stone’s Turn” is likely the most terrifying track, introduced with scraping guitars that build into a whirlpool of abject incomprehensible chaos through a variety of unsettling guitar textures with only the faintest blip of conventional riffage shining through its murk.

While The Healer is certainly well-paced, giving the listener time to meditate to improvised drone moments before accompanying these sections with heavier sludge sensibilities, a considerable amount of patience is needed to fully enjoy it, along with a willingness to sit in dissonant, bleak, and occasionally terrifying atmospheres. This is not helped by the runtime: The Healer’s shortest two tracks are just shy of thirteen minutes and the longest are a towering twenty-five minutes, making for a difficult-to-digest experience over its nearly eighty-minute runtime. Those who revel in avant-garde instrumentation and improvised jazz will find this a quote-unquote “comfortable” experience; for me, however, this makes for an album that’s highly regarded but requires a particular state of mind to revisit.

The Healer has succeeded in expanding my taste palate, giving me an appreciation for oppressive soundscapes through its vivid lyricism and message of finding hope among decay and rubble. I would have preferred it to be just a touch shorter, but I will most certainly be picking this up when I have a craving for drawn-out, experimental sludge. If you have a taste for extended pieces that ebb and flow between unsettling mood exploration and sludgy chaos, The Healer will unequivocally restore you in full.

Recommended tracks: Yellow Dawn, New Rites, The Stone’s Turn
You may also like: Minsk, NNMM, Bong-Ra, Zos, Sol
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: Thrill Jockey Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Sumac is:
– Aaron Turner (guitars, vocals)
– Nick Yacyshyn (drums)
– Brian Cook (bass)

The post Review: Sumac – The Healer appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Atmospheric Sludge Metal, Grunge (Mixed vocals, mostly clean)
Recommended for fans of: Cult of Luna, Conjurer, Alice in Chains, Isis
Review by: Dave
Country: Poland
Release date: 10 May 2024

A few weeks ago, I harped on how Heavy Rain’s desert-like atmosphere was done to its detriment: to keep it brief, Heavy Rain treated the desert imagery on its album cover as carelessly as the AI that generated the cover, the desert manifesting as a barren metaphor for how lacking in variety the album was. This week, I’ve yet again been cast into the desert by Sunnata’s Chasing Shadows, with the promise of “mind-altering, shamanic doom metal with a dose of grunge and psychedelia.” I’m a bit more optimistic going into this one, though: the gorgeous and haunting artwork showcases a ghostly figure in the middle of a black desert, staring into a void that’s only slightly brighter than the overwhelming darkness surrounding. So, does Chasing Shadows live up to its promise of mind-altering psychedelia or are we yet again left stranded among the dunes?

The best word to describe Chasing Shadows is “austere”: while the atmosphere conjured is not exactly hostile, it could easily be described as otherworldly, harsh, and uninviting, whether it be the droning Alice In Chains style vocals teetering in and out of harmony, the bass rumbling underneath Cult of Luna-esque guitars that dance on the line between consonance and dissonance, or the dense, occasionally claustrophobic composition. The desert in which Chasing Shadows exists is undoubtedly liminal, making you think about what sorts of weird incomprehensible things can exist in a terrain so harsh and empty, then bringing those things face-to-face with you: at times, you’re the subject of a ritual you don’t understand performed by people you’re not familiar with; later, you’re trapped in the middle of a sandstorm, unable to see anything except for sand whirring in front of your face as its intensity waxes and wanes; and at points, there is a relaxing calm as you luxuriate in the cold, dry air under a full moon. And that’s just the first three songs.

Chasing Shadows wildly succeeds as an atmospheric piece: it takes a while to get fully acclimated to the sound as the chromatic palette is fairly limited and compositions can be overwhelming at times, but Sunnata manage to create rich and evocative textures within a limited tonal range. Droning chants are pitted against a persistent drum pattern as intensity ebbs and flows on “Torn,” creating an ominous wall of sound that swallows you in a sandy riptide; dissonant vocals are layered on top of shrieking synthesizers on “The Sleeper” for the album’s most terrifying moments; and “The Tide” offers a sunset-painted respite from the intensity as held-out chants intertwine with sparse guitar flourishes. A touch of industrial/electronic experimentation can even be found on closer “Like Cogs in a Wheel, We’re Trapped Between Waves of Distorted Time,” which poses distant reverberating guitars against a simple and effective drum beat. Most effective of these moments, however, is the hypnotic opener “Chimera,” which introduces slow and sparse chants after an intense opening passage, gradually increasing in speed and building to an earth-shattering climax propelled forward by chunky mid-paced sludge riffs. Sunnata were smart to choose “Chimera” as an opener as it gently sets the tone of the album while still making time to effectively crush the listener by its end.

Every fifteen minutes or so, we are graced with an interlude. You may think that fifteen minutes per interlude is overkill or that one typically has interludes foisted upon them as opposed to being “graced” by their presence, but Chasing Shadows both badly needs respites from its intense soundscapes and also manages to elegantly intersperse these breaks across its runtime. Each interlude stays firmly within the album’s atmosphere and provides moments of interest while still operating as a palate cleanser between the more mammoth tracks: “At Dusk” is gorgeous and lush, “Adrift” is powerful and catchy, and “Through the Abyss” is haunting and wistful. Despite their comparatively ephemeral nature, they are just as essential a component of Chasing Shadows as the extended pieces.

More to the point of effective interludes is the question of pacing. The three interludes not only act as palate cleansers giving room to breathe between compositions, but also serve to tonally sequester different sections of the album. “Chimera” and “Torn” lean heavily into a droning, psychedelic atmosphere; “Wishbone” and “Saviour’s Raft” are overall the heftiest tracks with emphasis on muscular riffage and gritty, powerful vocals; “The Tide” and “Hunger” are considerably slower and more subdued, giving the listener room to breathe and meditate; and “The Sleeper” and “Like Cogs…” lean fully into darkness with the most disturbing and unfamiliar sounds to be found on the album. Unfortunately, it’s more difficult to tie the conceptual themes in with the musical ideas, but the impressionist lyricism works well enough alongside the musical backdrop.

I have very little, if anything, negative to say about Chasing Shadows. Through deliberate and well-paced buildups, expert utilization of a modest tonal palette, and tasteful execution of droning chants, Sunnata have crafted a landmark album in atmospheric sludge. Despite its somewhat inscrutable exterior, Chasing Shadows works magnificently as an unsettling late-night mood piece or as an accompaniment to the period after golden hour and before total darkness. While I would usually complain about an hour-plus runtime, Sunnata justify the length with a diverse yet atmospherically cohesive exploration of moods. Maybe getting swallowed by the sand isn’t so bad after all!

Recommended tracks: Chimera, Saviour’s Raft, Torn
You may also like: Hypno5e, The Salt Pale Collective, Nebulae Come Sweet
Final verdict: 8.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Official Website | Facebook | Metal Archives | RateYourMusic

Label: Independent Release

Sunnata is:
– DOB (bass)
– ROB (drums)
– GAD (guitars)
– SZY (guitars, vocals)

The post Review: Sunnata – Chasing Shadows appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive Sludge Metal, Post-Metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: The Ocean, Gojira, Vildhjarta
Review by: Cooper
Country: France
Release date: 24 February, 2023

Ever since I first was hypnotized by the 2016 masterpiece that was Hypno5e’s Shores of the Abstract Line, I have been something of a fanatic for the boundary-pushing Frenchmen. Formed in 2003 by Emmanual Jessua, now the only remaining original member, Hypno5e’s studio outputs tell a story of gradual, ever-upwards progression. After their debut release of Des deux l’une est l’autre in 2007, they found what I would consider to be their core sound on their third release Acid Mist Tomorrow: a mix of post-metal-esque exercises in tension and release, utterly inventive breakdowns that just edge towards djent (perhaps as a result of convergent evolution as opposed to direct inspiration, though), and haunting spoken word samples. After the release of AMT, Hypno5e entered what I would consider to be their golden period with the releases of the already mentioned Shores of the Abstract Line, the acoustic tinged soundtrack of Alba – Les ombres errantes, and my personal favorite album of theirs, A Distant (Dark) Source.

After the release of AD(D)S, though, Hypno5e was shaken by a lineup change that saw the exit of long term bassist Cédric “Gredin” Pages and drummer Théo Begue who had both been with the band through many albums. As a result, Charles Villanueva and Pierre Rettien were taken on, and they now comprise the rhythm section we hear on Sheol, the band’s most recent release. To many the lineup change will be unnoticeable, after all the main creative force behind Hypno5e, vocalist/guitarist Emmanual Jessua, is still doing his thing, but to the more astute the changes are obvious, especially on the drums.

Where Begue was a drummer characterized by his liberal use of double bass drumming that could elevate heavy moments to stratospheric levels of intensity, Rettien seems to have a couple more tricks up his sleeve. The blisteringly heavy and complex moments are still there during the breakdowns of tracks like “Lava from the Sky”, “The Dreamer and his Dream”, and the utterly magnificent title track, but these moments are juxtaposed against things like the wide open drum “solo” during the second half of “Sheol, Pt. II” and the mesmerizing beats that bring home the intro section of “Bone Dust”. At some points, I find myself reminded of marching band drum lines and the fragmented drum fills that can seemingly only be performed by ten or so musicians, yet are performed here by just one man and his drum kit. Sheol, simply put is masterclass in progressive metal drumming.

As for the other elements of Sheol, they are exactly what I have come to expect from Hypno5e. The multitudinous guitar tracks of acoustic and electric variety provide ample texture to both the heavier and lighter moments on this album with “Tauca” especially being a great example of gorgeous acoustic guitar textures despite being a generally weaker track overall. Additionally, as a gear nerd myself, I must commend the ample, yet still subtle, use of guitar effects from the shimmering delay that accentuates the album’s opening guitar lines to the detuned, warped vinyl sound that we hear on the closer’s first part. The vocals, which may be a turn off for some first time listeners due to their unique inflections when clean and their mushiness when harsh, are–at least by Hypno5e standards–solid; Jessua is no songbird, but he brings enough emotion and melodic hooks to get by. The spoken word samples, while much rarer on Sheol than previous releases and often in English as well, always hit their mark, and the orchestral elements, be it the the strings often used in the introductions or the occasional reed instrument such as found on “The Dreamer and His Dream”, are all quite engrossing, especially thanks to their powerful production. In fact, the production in general on this album is quite well done; at several moments over the course of my many listens, I found myself holding my breath as the song was pared down to its core elements before my very ears, each layer removed revealing more complexities that were hidden beneath. I just wish that the dynamic range was larger so that these moments could have been even more poignant.

I said earlier that the story of Hypno5e was one of gradual, ever-upwards progression ultimately culminating in the band’s previous three releases which I have referred to as their golden period. As I have listened to Sheol over the course of this past year, I have considered carefully where I would place it amongst the band’s gleaming back catalog. On one hand it remains true to the core sound established by its predecessors, but on the other–primarily thanks to the addition of new members–it is the freshest Hypno5e album in about ten years. So while I still think A Distant (Dark) Source is their magnum opus, Sheol certainly ranks amongst the other top golden period albums. For fans of Hypno5e there will be moments on this album that you adore, and there may be others which you despise. Ultimately though, it is the next gradual step Hypno5e has taken on their evolutionary journey, and I know that I will keep listening, in wait for whatever they have in store for us next.

Recommended tracks: Sheol, Lava from the Sky
You may also like: Psychonaut, The Salt Pale Collective
Final verdict: 8.5/10

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

Label: Pelagic Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Hypno5e is:
– Emmanuel Jessua (vocals, guitars)
– Jonathan Maurois (guitars)
– Pierre Rettien (drums)
– Charles Villanueva (bass)

The post Missed Album Review: Hypno5e – Sheol appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Post-Metal, Doom Metal, IDM (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: The Ocean, Primitive Man, Cult of Luna, Dvne
Review by: Cooper
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: 25 August, 2023

In a genre such as post-metal where experimentation is often lauded, The Salt Pale Collective‘s debut offering, A Body That Could Pass Through Stones and Trees, proves that sticking to the tried and truly refined can be equally engrossing. By taking cues from nearly all edges of the realm of post/doom/sludge metal and then refining those influences into infinitely listenable and sleek slabs of metal grandeur, TSPC have ensured that I’ll be listening to these songs whenever I need my post-metal fix. Add to that the companion piece The Crimson Queen Has No Tongue, which I’ll also be reviewing, and you’ve got a post-metal feast for the ages.

The album opens with intro track “Tria Prima,” setting the tone with harsh synth noise and spoken word samples; immediately, the listener is transported to a world of grit and muck, so much so that when the chanting vocals move in afterwards in all their earnestness, the juxtaposition is downright startling. And with the listener thrown off balance, The Collective seizes the opportunity, pummeling the listener with pounding drums, hefty bass, and guitars meaty enough to sink your teeth into. The production quality here is top notch stuff, enough so to make any moment on this album interesting purely for its sonic textures. “Tria Prima” flows directly into track two, “The Great Work”, and it is here where TSPC define their core sound, and boy is it heavy.

Along with the gorgeously produced onslaught of guitar, bass, synth, drums, and sax established on the opener come some of the filthiest harsh vocals I’ve heard all year. They are, simply put, perfect for the genre, low enough to blend in with the instruments as texture when necessary but powerful and enunciated enough to carry pivotal music moments single handedly. And when the melodic clean vocals enter later, the combination of both styles is utterly decadent. After about a dozen listens, I still find myself joining in during these moments on tracks like “Exploding Triangles” and “Sermon of the Edacious Reverent”. Another subtle – but ultimately important – element to the TSPC sound is their playful use of vocal effects. The changes made are minute, often just a little warble added here or a quick reversal of a phrase there, but the result is felt strongly. So much so in fact, that I didn’t like them at first, feeling they were cheesy and distracting. But as I listened more, drawn back by damn near everything else, they grew on me, becoming just another element of texture in the sonic onslaught.

Because the album is meant to be listened to as one large song (with the band going so far as to provide that single unbroken experience via Bandcamp), the quality of some individual tracks is difficult to gauge. For instance, tracks “Tria Prima” and “The Metabaron”, while great in league with their brethren, are not meant to be heard alone. The former is an intro track, as we have already discussed, and the latter is an ambient synth interlude that, despite lasting as long as any other song on the album, doesn’t accomplish much. While enjoyable as an album, these songs are necessary and extremely beneficial for the album’s flow, but as standalone tracks, which I choose to judge them as based on their runtime, they are kinda boring. Thankfully, the whole album is only forty-three minutes so complete listens aren’t exactly a chore.

Like I said in the intro, if you’re at all familiar with the realm of post/doom/sludge metal then most of what you hear on this album will be friendly territory. As I listened, I was consistently reminded of The Ocean, Cult of Luna, and Dvne, three bands I’m sure that any post-metal fan is presently aware of. However, instead of simply imitating their influences, The Salt Pale Collective takes the elements that made their influences so great and refines them. As I have already said, these tracks are infinitely listenable, and I have found myself spinning this album more than any other I’ve reviewed. For fans of post-metal, A Body That Could Pass Through Stones and Trees is essential listening.

If you liked what you heard, be sure to also check out my review of this album’s companion EP, The Crimson Queen Has No Tongue.

Recommended tracks: The Great Work, Exploding Triangles, Sermon of the Edacious Reverent
You may also like: Nebulae Come Sweet, Ergo I Exist, LLNN
Final verdict: 8.5/10

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

Label: Independent

The Salt Pale Collective is:
– Barney Hodges (Sax)
– Annina Melissa, Rhys McCubbin, Nick Yule, Richard Parsons (Vocals)
– Neil Adamson, Dan Thornton (Textures)
– Sara and Paul Mac (Chants)
– Alan, Baz, Ian, Lauren, Mark, Marco, Matt, Muckrel, Pete, Steve, Smellyot, Steven R, Nathaniel Williams (Voices)
– Ethan Hutchinson, Ash Cook, Abigail Dixon, Liam Hesslewood, Decadebridge and Al Harris.

The post Review: The Salt Pale Collective – A Body That Could Pass Through Stones and Trees appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive Metal, Death Metal, Post-Metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: The Ocean, Opeth, Cult of Luna
Review by: Christopher
Country: Germany
Release date: 7 July, 2023

I’ve been writing for The Progressive Subway for about a year now—long enough that I might just start to find that some of the bands I reviewed when I first started are beginning to release more material. Actually, I didn’t think that time would come for a while longer but Seyr have turned around and delivered a new EP just eleven months after their debut album, Flux—what better way to mark the anniversary of my tenure here?

Their new one-track EP 27 Million consists of a sixteen-minute-long track. Of course, I went back to Flux to compare. The post-metal excesses of their debut are reigned in, and the prog death side of their sound takes precedence. The soaring licks and mounting tension of post-metal are still utilised, but Seyr have taken a conscious step towards a heavier sound.

Compositionally, “27 Million” definitely addresses the issues on their debut. This is a solid song with a strong sense of flow, in a sense reminding me of Wills Dissolve’s Echoes, another epic one track album which also journeys through vistas of soft ambience as well as punishing heaviness. Sebastian Elm’s versatile vocals continue to impress, running the gamut from crooning baritone cleans to rabidly ferocious growls.

Opening with soft vocals over clean-picked guitar and gently thrumming bass, the harsh vocals soon announce themselves. Elm’s cleans are especially impressive in the section starting at 4:40, with some chaotic lead guitar licks and swelling chords aiding him. Soon after, the track takes a turn for the sombre, with a creepy acoustic guitar part at 6:17 which takes me straight back to “Blackwater Park”. The band build effectively on this eerie section, steadily ramping up the dynamism as the drums return, Elm begins to croon pensively, and the lead guitar lines float airily away—it’s a textbook example of post-metal influences done right. Around nine minutes in, the harshes and quasi-operatic cleans are layered together to great effect, and the track closes with a coda reprising the intro as the drums embark on a slow death march. That’s not everything “27 Million” has to offer, but suffice to say, the composition is a pleasing one. 

As a bit of a side note, “27 Million” is separated into five movements. Two of these movements—”Opaque” and “Tides of Mourn”—were released as ‘singles’ in anticipation of the full release. Yet apart from the singles, no mention of the movements is made on Spotify or Bandcamp for the full EP; they’re only named on the YouTube upload. As a result, I’ve gone with timestamps over naming movements for this review. Other than that, my only qualm with “27 Million” is that the production can be a little fuzzy at times, and although Krüger’s tasty bass work is audible, the bass tone is oddly flat compared to the other instruments. 

Tighter and more dynamic than their debut, it’s a pleasure to watch Seyr as they find their feet. The compositional care and gravity that are on display here more than make up for the minor issues in production, and ensure Seyr will soon be a force to be reckoned with.

Recommended tracks: 27 Million (obviously)
You may also like: Wills Dissolve, Sikasa
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Independent

Seyr is:
– Sebastian Elm (vocals)
– Levon Khatchatrian (guitar)
– Omar Meli (guitar)
– Max Krüger (bass)
– Levin Wießner (drums)

The post Review: Seyr – 27 Million appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Post-Metal, Progressive Metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Cult of Luna, The Ocean
Review by: Sam
Country: Belarus
Release date: 20 April, 2023

Post-metal is one of the genres I respect the most. I am not always in the mood for it (usually I prefer faster and/or more immediate stuff), but there is a certain artistry to the genre that I love. The slow, meticulous atmosphere building until the eventual (sometimes multiple) crescendo(s) requires finesse that is hard to pull off. When done unskillfully, this type of song build can easily fall into mindless droning until the band gets bored and suddenly decides to pulls all the stops, going from zero to a hundred. But when done right, it can lead to some of the most transcendent moments in music (see for example: “In Awe Of” by Cult of Luna or “Not in Rivers, But in Drops” by Isis). We haven’t had much post-metal coverage recently (if you’re reading this Jonah, your reviews of all things sludge are missed), but when I found this band in our list, I wanted to make some amends, because there is something special brewing here.

Nebulae Come Sweet (what a mouthful!) is a progressive/post-metal band from Belarus. What immediately stood out to me is the use of strings. Indeed, they have not just a full-time cello player but there’s nearly an entire backing orchestra as guests: violin, trumpets, saxophone, you name it. There’s even an accordion and a backing choir! The soundscape is extremely rich and layered because of this at almost all times, removing every inch of the post-metal dullness I talked about earlier the record otherwise might have had. If the metal aspect is just strumming around, the orchestra develops the mood, and when the riffs get more imposing, the orchestra provides texture and nuance. You can hear every little detail as well thanks to the brilliant production job by Maxim Samosvat.

It is hard to discuss the metal aspect without talking about the orchestral elements given how intertwined they are. In the opener “Lumen” there is a call and response going on between the guitar and the cello, one providing heaviness, the other providing melody. The guitarwork really is just a part of the whole sound. Especially as the focus lies on texture, the guitar strumming is just one of many layers. This comes at the cost of having slightly more basic riffs when the band goes heavier to leave space for the orchestra though. I also found myself slightly bored at the drumming sometimes, which does as required but not a whole lot more. To make a slight leap, Cult of Luna I consider to be the golden standard of post-metal, and they are amazing at subtly increasing the drumming intensity, with each fill slightly more intricate than the last, and a rhythm that continuously morphs upward until it explodes at the crescendo. Drummer Igor Kovalyov knows which groove to play, but I’m missing said fills, minor variations, and explosivity when compared to the Swedish genre-grandmasters. 

That lack of explosivity also translates more generally to the crescendos reached, where I often find myself wanting a bit more than I got. It’s not that they are bad, they’re quite great actually, but there is a lingering feeling that the band has the ability to pull off a masterpiece and they can’t quite seem to get there. Opener “Lumen” is the greatest “offender” of this, building to something huge, but then fizzling out before truly transcending. “Candor” is more satisfying with its swelling tremolo crescendo. Lastly, I should also mention a strong (modern) The Ocean influence in this band’s sound. Especially in “Claritas” where there is a strong resemblance in the guitarwork and some of the symphonic passages to the Phanerozoic albums. And I’m sure the more die-hard fans than me will be able to pick up on more nods to the paleontology fanatics.

The album ends with an orchestral piece, rehashing the themes and motifs of the album to bring it to a satisfying conclusion. I am not sure whether it is a concept album since I am awful at deciphering lyrics, but it sure plays like one since the track transitions are seamless and the final song is called “Epilogue en si Mineur”. Either way, De Lumière is a great, innovative slab of post-metal which every fan of the genre should hear, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see it pop up on a few end of year lists. Good job fellas.

Recommended tracks: Candor, Splendor, Epilogue en si Mineur
You may also like: Dead to a Dying World, Ode and Elegy, Sikasa, Dirge (bandcamp), East of the Wall (bandcamp)
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: Independent

Nebulae Come Sweet is:
– Igor Kovalyov (drums, vocals, synths)
– Sergey Shidlovsky (bass)
– Dmitry Matveev (guitar, backing vocals)
– Anastasiya Vashkevich (cello, strings)

With guest musicians:
– Aleksey Maksimov (guitar)
– Andrey Buzovsky (guitar)
– Diana Gvozd’ (piano)
– Anastasiya Sutyagina (violin)
– Igor Shevtsov (trumpet)
– Daniel Egorov (trumpet)
– Alexander Zvyagintsev (accordion)
– Ivan Izmalkin (saxophone)
– Igor Butz (bass)
– Alexandra Sidorevich (backing vocals, choir)
– Alexey Shipulin (narrator, choir)

The post Review: Nebulae Come Sweet – De Lumière appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: atmospheric sludge (instrumental)
Review by: Dylan
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: 6 August, 2021

Even though I’m taking a sort of break from reviews, I couldn’t help but feel intrigued about Existence is Temporary, an EP which looked to infuse Sludgy riffs with a sense of dreaminess that I found instantly attractive. This release was created by Grace Hayhurst, who I had a chat or two with in the Progressive Metal discord server but had no idea she was up to something like this until she hit us with the promo release. I was immediately met with an ethereal landscape surrounded by tight musicianship that perfectly knew how to drive a song forward, and make it be instantly memorable with no lyrics (bar a spoken word interlude).

Its main style is really quite curious. While the riffs are certainly driven by heaviness/distortion, with a sense of chunkiness willing to take even the strongest men down, there’s a contrasting beauty to the songwriting with the atmosphere around it. It is like the world is falling down around you, yet you remain reflective about it as you watch it unfold before your eyes (made obvious on the spoken word interlude “Existence is Temporary” where the idea of the EPs concept is made clear). This “philosophical” air about the release is best felt on any section that includes a keyboard. This isn’t uncommon per-se in atmospheric releases as it is a rather frequently used resource for sections where it all quiets down, before the other instruments build themselves back up to destroy you. But in Existence is Temporary it is frequently used both in interludes and as the cherry on top of the already complex instrumentation to give it an edge in songwriting which is not only really unique, but very well accomplished too. The way it is used to drive songs forward gives me a Steven Wilson vibe immediately, but in a way where you feel an artist is wearing its influences whilst understanding what makes them good.

This beautiful recipe was dead-set on success the moment it all came together. It just makes sense, almost as if the songs are progressing naturally from what came before, until it reaches a natural, satisfactory conclusion. It’s a shame that it is one of the few releases out there that I feel are too short for their own good. The concepts it presents (even if delivered instrumentally) are just too deep for it to only last 25 minutes in my opinion, it could’ve gone on for another 15 minutes and I’m sure it would’ve kicked even more ass. But to be fair, every song in this EP seriously screams perfectionism, so it can’t have been easy to write even more of them. All in all, Existence is Temporary is not only a massive win for Grace Hayhurst, but also a phenomenal release to build a career out of.

Recommended tracks: Negative Incline, The Search for Purpose
Recommended for fans of: Steven Wilson, Mastodon, Toska
Final verdict: 8.75/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Twitter | last.fm

Label: Independent

Grace Hayhurst is:
– Grace Hayhurst (all instruments)

The post Review: Grace Hayhurst – Existence is Temporary appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: atmospheric sludge metal, doom metal, metalcore, screamo (harsh vocals)
Review by: Sam
Country: US-CA
Release date: 26 February, 2021

Over the course of the past few months I’ve been doing various discography runs. By doing at least an album a day I went through a ton of new artists. The most notable product of these adventures is that I got into post-metal, doing five of the major artists in The Ocean, Neurosis, Cult of Luna, Isis, and Intronaut. This album by Black Sheep Wall is the first time since then I’ve gone to review a post-metal album. Or at least, that’s what it said on our spreadsheet. Because unfortunately for me, post-metal this is not (being the closely related atmospheric sludge metal instead). And to make it even worse, it has very significant influences of two of my most Loathed genres in metalcore and screamo. Being stubborn as I am, I couldn’t just give it to someone else, because I strongly felt like I just had to finish the task I had set out to do.

What drew me to this album was the humongous, thicc sludge riffs, great production value, and amazing looking album art. And indeed those elements are all done really well. The album sounds exactly how you want an album in this genre to sound. This riffs sound massive, the bass tone is thicc, the vocals are front-and-center without overtaking the instruments, and the drums have a dry punch that compliments the rest really well. It’s balanced very well, both in terms of mixing and mastering. It’s loud when it needs to be, but also spacious and soft when it needs to be so you don’t get ear fatigue.

What did give me ear fatigue though were the vocals, but that’s more personal taste. I absolutely can’t fault Brandon for his vocal performance. He brings that typical metalcore angry sound into his harshes, and he’s very convincing at it. It’s a very powerful, animated performance that’s far from one-note. I imagine he gets great strength from the lyrics, which he told were very personal to Invisible Oranges in an interview. The lyrics tackle a number of things. As I understand it, they tackle the perils of growing up in too much comfort and how it makes you weak, likening it to a relation where only lust counts, but at the same time critiquing society for how much financially worse the current generation has it compared to previous ones (“Your savings are our debt and we fucking hate you”). It’s a great deal of hatred, both at himself and at the world. They’re written in a very direct and confronting style, making it both personal to the author and very relatable to the listener. They did a great job with them in my opinion.

I found the songwriting largely strong here, but there are some caveats. The band is at their best during the active, riff-heavy parts. The riffs are so heavy it feels like an elephant stepped on you. They use various riff patterns to keep it dynamic, and the drums follow suit during these parts with a good amount of fills and rhythms. The third song “Concrete God” is a prime example of this and easily a highlight on the album. Where it tends to fall flat though is during the more atmospheric bits. It reminds me a lot of early Intronaut tonally during the more quiet parts, but they fail to sufficiently progress the atmosphere, making it sound really lethargic. Whereas a band like Cult of Luna constantly builds up the intensity with increasingly intricate fills and atmosphere, Black Sheep Wall lacks good melodic progression and the drumming remains in the same place too much.

The lack of lead play in general I found to be problematic on this album. Not that this is a genre known for flashy guitar solos, but nearly every cathartic part seemed to stem from a breakdown. This album would have greatly benefitted from some more expressive melodic atmosphere. In the opener “Human Shaped Hole” I was teased with weedly weedly leads that, though admittedly I’m not a fan of personally, would have greatly helped in giving the album more variety. By the time the second song “New Measures of Failure” concludes its 13 minute runtime, I’ve nearly forgotten about them entirely. The song in general is exemplary for both everything this album does right and everything it does wrong, starting with a great riffing assault, but eventually devolves into endless boring atmosphere. As the song reaches its climax and they shout “I hope you hate me \\ I hope you always hate me” I think to myself “well, I sure do now.” Not even the trumpet cameo on “Ren” can save the atmosphere in that regard.

I don’t think Songs for the Enamel Queen is an unsalvageable record. Despite the flaws I mentioned and its relatively lengthy 59-minute runtime, the album is surprisingly listenable and for the most part captivating enough to offset boredom (though some atmospheric parts can be a real slog). At its peak this is some very good sludge metal, and I suspect that those who don’t have the innate metalcore dislike that I have will get a lot more mileage out of this album. I wholeheartedly recommend this album for anyone who likes their metal heavy and groovy, because it delivers those aspects in spades.

Recommended tracks: Concrete God, Prayer Sheet for Wound and Nail
Recommended for fans of: Gojira, Cult of Luna, (early) The Ocean, (early) Intronaut, riffs as heavy as an elephant stepping on you
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Silent Pendulum Records – Bandcamp | Website | Facebook

Black Sheep Wall is:
– Brandon Gillichbauer (vocals)
– Scott Turner (guitars)
– Andrew Hulle (guitars)
– Juan Hernandez Cruz (bass)
– Jackson Thompson (drums)

The post Review: Black Sheep Wall – Songs for the Enamel Queen appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Post-Metal (Mixed vocals)
Review by: Chris
Country: Italy
Release date: October 9, 2020

It seems lately I’ve been on a tour de Italy, especially in the area of ‘ post’ genres, most notably with Nero Di Marte leading that charge right at the top of the year. So far it seems to have convinced me to keep my eye on this part of the world for these kind of releases, and La Fin can be another car added to the train with The Endless Inertia. A 6 piece outfit, La Fin employs a triple guitar setup (which I’ll talk more about later) to create their post-metal compositions. In their words, The Endless Inertia is an album using the metaphor of inertia for the the quiet and stillness in our lives, intentional or not.

The album opens in peaceful post-metal fashion on “Intertia”, with long drawn reverb tails on a soft chord arpeggio, which slowly darkens itself in both tonality and instrumentation while almost throat-singing style vocals further pad the atmosphere. Moments later the distortion kicks in from the other guitars while the original motif is allowed to continue underneath. The motif escapes itself for complementing tremolo picking higher structures, and the vocals turn to The Ocean-esque harsh tones. While what I’ve described definitely is well done on this first song, these kind of progressions are expected of post-metal. The Endless Inertia does has more surprises in its breadth as it continues, however.

“Zero” in glimpses shows an inclination towards a black metal-inspired sound, opening with frantic blast beats before abandoning them for further changes in pace. While the album very obviously has its extreme heavy moments, there are some standout lighter sections for moments to catch one’s breath, such as in the back of “Hypersleep” and “Endless”. The cleaner vocals tend to be pushed much further back and washed than their harsh counterparts, to fit the rest of the instrumentation following a similar trend; in a lot of the lighter sections nothing is necessarily meant to be the true master of the show. Instead, those moment serve as a coming together of the mood, whereas the heavier moments to to trend towards forcing the ear onto the groove/riff or the vocals themselves. I had mentioned earlier The Endless Inertia has some surprises in store; these are mainly sections where the compositions dip into the blackened territory, or when the drums truly have moments of really just going crazy underneath the wall of sound.

I had mentioned La Fin employs a three-guitar setup. This always sounds great on paper, but I do find a lot of bands hamstring themselves in this setup by always doubling parts regardless, turning the extra guitarist really into a glorified double-track. La Fin has a few moments they fall into this, but thankfully for most of the album there are few moments all three guitars seem to be doing similar parts at all. Many times you have harmonization or counterpoint parts occurring between two of the guitars, while the third provides the texture and ambience that would be expected in a post-metal world. The bass and drums provide exactly what they need to, with the bass being the consistently heavy voice to push things along, and the drums doing a great job of bouncing between grooving heavy beats and smoother cymbal focused beats on the soft parts.

For fans of any of the modern post-metal heavyweights this is definitely a solid album, though personally I felt it has a few places it fell flat. I didn’t find the ebb-and-flow of the record as smooth as I would have hoped, and had a few too many moments of soft-part-exploding-immediately-into-heaviness instead of a more gradual development. On subsequent listens many of the lighter sections seemed very samey and blended together over time; this could be purposeful, but it did make me not like those sections as much. It could almost be considered a praise though, as I feel my mind really wanted to get back to the filth and heavy grooves, which have a good many shining moments throughout. As stated earlier, this is another item on the list of reasons I need to pay more attention to whatever is going on in Italy that keeps these albums coming.

Recommended tracks: Inertia, Disembody, Eulogy
Recommended for fans of: Cult of Luna, The Ocean, ISIS
Final verdict: 7/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Argonauta Records – Bandcamp | Website | Facebook

La Fin is:
– Marco Balzano (vocals)
– Michele Banfi (guitars)
– Loris Laugelli (guitars)
– Lorenzo G. Ruggiero (guitars)
– Riccardo Marino (drums)
– Federico La Torre (bass)

The post Review: La Fin – The Endless Inertia appeared first on The Progressive Subway.