Style: Progressive death metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Meshuggah, Rivers of Nihil, Entheos, Tesseract
Country: United States
Release date: 14 August 2025

“We all rip off Meshuggah!” Or so Devin Townsend famously said in his 2014 track, “Planet of the Apes.” Comedic exaggeration? Slightly. But Meshuggah’s influence and the proliferation of djent have defined a solid chunk of the metal released after the mid-aughts. Our boy Justin dove deeper into the style’s evolution in his review of Atlan Blue by Antediluvian Projekt—a middling djent album released earlier this year—but suffice it to say that numerous artists have added a couple of strings to their guitars and embraced those chunky, polyrhythmic grooves. And though in recent times many bands have adopted djent and its features as a weapon in their sonic arsenals rather than as a core part of their identity, the style remains prominent. Hell, even the latest Muse single, “Unraveling,” includes a gratuitous djent passage.

This brings us to progressive death metallers Kallias and their latest release, Digital Plague. The album’s story—one of humanity’s unhealthy digital obsession, technological overreach, and the ongoing pattern of creation and destruction—is given life by, you guessed it: big, heavy, djent riffs. As the band put it, “Think if Meshuggah scored Blade Runner.” Eight-string guitars in hand, Kallias ravage their way through the tracks with the intensity of a helicopter blade. But, while Meshuggah might be their most apparent influence, the band wield djent as one tool in their prog-death toolkit—technical chops, cinematic orchestrations and synths, odd time signatures, and diverse vocals all coalesce in a fresh and shockingly accessible release.

Kallias’s strength lies in the balance they strike between heavy chugs, progressive flair, and hooky passages, and nowhere is this more apparent than in standout track “Null Space.” Within the first two minutes, we’re treated to a massive, choppy verse, textural synths, proggy riffing, and an earworm of a chorus that reminds, frankly, of a ballsier TesseracT. Still, the track sounds cogent and compelling. Similar can be said about the infectious opening cut “Destructive Apathy.” Frontwoman and guitarist Nicole Papastavrou backs up her fiery playing with ferocious growls—across all Digital Plague, she’s a force. Meanwhile, in addition to his consistently outstanding instrumental performance, bassist Chris Marrone delivers a diverse array of clean vocals that provide something to grab onto amidst the mayhem. 

Digital Plague’s tracks don’t stray far from one another, each offering some combination of dramatic intensity and complementary melodicism. But to help keep the album from turning stale, Kallias introduce new elements throughout. The title track, for instance, builds tension with staccato, bowed strings, and later features a soft, almost Opethian bridge. “Pyrrhic Victory” distinguishes itself with chant-like clean vocals that further Digital Plague’s narrative, eventually giving way to a big, rolling outro accompanied by cinematic synths. “Exogíini Kyriarchía” leans most heavily into djent, and “Shadow Entity” is more brooding and ends with a guitar solo that stands as an album highlight. Each track provides something engaging to catch the ear, while tight and often technical musicianship is consistent across the release. The rhythm section, in particular, is ridiculously active, forming a solid backbone while still delivering blazing flourishes throughout. 

Yet, despite the band’s instrumental prowess and constant sprinkling of new ideas, Digital Plague feels a tad formulaic. Each song runs about four and a half to six minutes and has a similar atmosphere and feel. The compositions are dynamic within individual songs, but show less variety across the tracklist—they all hit the same spot, even if striking from slightly different angles. Fortunately, the formula works, and Digital Plague is a blast. But because of this, the album has a high floor and a relatively low ceiling. Venturing into a few new sonic territories and taking some bigger compositional risks could have elevated the release that extra bit.

All in all, Digital Plague nods at Kallias’s influences while holding its own identity. Plenty of riffs will make your face wrinkle and your head jolt, but you’ll also find about a half dozen infectious choruses to sing along to. And although the album could contain more diversity from song to song, its cinematic nature keeps it engaging, the tracks stand strongly on their own, and the performances are ferocious. Basic Meshuggah worship this is not. We’ve sure come a long way since HevyDevy’s proclamation.

Recommended tracks: Destructive Apathy, Null Space, Shadow Entity
You may also like: Soreption, Aversed, Subterranean Lava Dragon, Daedric
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Independent

Kallias is:
– Nicole Papastavrou (guitars, vocals)
– Chris Marrone (bass, vocals)
– Justin Gogan (drums)
– Erik Ryde (guitars)
With guests:
– Chaney Crabb of Entheos (vocals, “Destructive Apathy”)
– Ian Waye of Soreption (guitars)

The post Review: Kallias – Digital Plague appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal, alternative metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Tool, Karnivool, Soen (pre-Lotus), Leprous
Country: France
Release date: 21 June 2025

I first discovered Mantra by way of a review on this very blog covering Medium, their 2019 EP conceived around a gimmick of releasing two separate tracks which could be overlaid on top of each other to create the “true” full song. It should be no surprise that Mantra might return to a highly conceptual approach for their latest album Celestial. One “season” of this album has been released on each equinox or solstice starting last fall, and now that we’ve passed the summer solstice to complete the cycle, the four parts can finally be brought together for the full experience. I initially intended to review Celestial last fall after the project was announced and the first EP released, but it quickly became clear that trying to develop an analysis based on what was essentially an introduction would be a flawed approach. With the benefit of greater context, the opening tracks from Fall still feel like mostly setup, but now provide a proper introduction to a broader work instead of a ramp leading directly over the edge of a sheer cliff.

As a first impression of Mantra, Medium has always left me feeling a bit, well, medium—not due to any great flaws in the music itself, but because of how little its structural gimmick enhances the listening experience. Each track individually, as well as the final combination, just sounds like a normal (and generally pretty good) song; it doesn’t feel like either of the component parts are missing anything critical, but by the same token, putting them back together doesn’t offer any great sense of completion. With that in mind, Celestial faces a similar test: was it worth the song and dance around its staggered release, and do the chopped-up pieces join together in a way that feels more meaningful than just producing any old album themed around the four seasons? Or will the disjointed scheduling lead to an equally disjointed listening experience when all is told?

Mantra’s musical aesthetic as a whole is not the most original, nor generally the most flashy or virtuosically impressive. Their success depends heavily on maintaining a rich mix of alternative elements, with hefty bass, dark-roasted malt guitars, and edgy half-growled vocals that only rarely break completely into harsh tones. Medium’s greatest shortcoming was undercutting that core richness by dividing one strong track into two weaker ones. Although Celestial’s limitations are less inherent to its release structure, it seems its development may have focused more on each section’s role within the turn of the seasons rather than polishing each track to be the best it could be. Whatever the story of Celestial’s conception, though, the result is far from a failure. The opening Fall sands down some of the metal edges in favor of a heavy progressive rock hybrid that could be compared to Leprous’s most recent works or this year’s outing from Derev, but the second quarter Winter unfolds an icy shroud, hearkening back to Mantra’s more familiar styles with omnipresent bass and choppy, deliberately off-balance rhythms embedded in heady time signatures.

Mantra apply their penchant for grandeur towards building cathedral-worthy scenes filled with epic choral guest vocals from Juliette and Matthis Lemonnier, like the section just past the midpoint of Winter’s second track “Vessel” or the climactic final moments of the monolithic Spring. Celestial’s lyrics hint at grand extraterrestrial topics of apocalypses and dying suns, cosmic purpose granted to a chosen savior, and the folly and failure of one imagining a divine destiny that was never there. Despite the effort put into the seasonal release cadence, the four seasons don’t feature heavily as lyrical or stylistic themes, aside from the general connection between seasons and the sun; the focus lands instead on the deific glory of stars and the spiritual feelings they inspire. Widespread piano presence and the usage of particularly chime-like effects from both guitar and keyboard echo earthly religious musical traditions as well as evoke a more natural “music of the spheres” that might lend itself to pagan worship.

The biggest thing missing from Celestial is a sort of “wow” moment, a grand climax to make the listener sit up in awe. Their past works have accomplished this with satisfying, drawn-out development, which piles up more and more elements until the music is full to bursting. Celestial’s triumphant moments during the Winter and Spring seasons arrive too early in the tracklist and don’t quite reach the required heights, but Mantra’s overall compositions are strong nonetheless, providing an abundance of smaller peaks throughout to help keep the energy high.

Mantra remain single-minded in their goal to push the boundaries of musical composition through experiments in unconventional release formats. It’s unfortunate that these efforts don’t add a ton to the music itself; the base talent and quality of their compositions provide a strong starting point, but their final productions struggle to rise above that level and achieve true excellence. Mantra continue to deliver moody, untamed rhythms with a dark, satisfyingly crunchy toasted edge. With strong production and clever ideas behind the music, there’s plenty to recommend Celestial, even if the band’s full machinations haven’t quite come to fruition. I just wouldn’t advise waiting nine months to collect all the pieces.

Recommended tracks: Winter I – Isolation, Winter II – Vessel, Spring – Home, Summer I – Transcendence
You may also like: Mother of Millions, Diagonal Path, Riviẽre, In the Silence, Traverser
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Vlad Productions – Bandcamp | Website | Facebook

Mantra is:
– Gabriel Junod (percussion)
– Pierre Junod (vocals)
– Arthur Lauth (bass, piano)
– Simon Saint-Georges (guitars, electric oud)
With guests:
– Juliette Lemonnier (additional vocals)
– Matthis Lemonnier (additional vocals)
– Niqolah Seeva (oud)

The post Review: Mantra – Celestial appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by: Albert Bierstadt (1868); Layout by: Annick Giroux

Style: Epic Doom Metal, Folk Metal, Heavy Metal (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Unleash the Archers, Cirith Ungol, Visigoth
Country: Illinois, United States
Release date: 27 June 2025

Growing up, I was all about fantasy, especially in my metal. Themes of wonder and romance, mythical beasts and steadfast warriors filled my imagination. Yet these days, I’ve found it harder and harder to connect with this formerly potent musical leyline. Call it a reflection of the times. I still love the bands I grew up with—the Kamelots, Symphony Xs, and Dios—and I’ve flirted with some newer makes and models (Unleash the Archers has done some fantastic work in the space). But, as we’ve marched closer towards dystopia, tales of adventure seem perhaps churlish compared to the angst and uncertainty permeating our modern world. Sauron is winning, and the Fellowship is splintered over a culture war.

Yet there’s a part of me that yearns to believe in heroes of might and magic once more. Which brings us to Chicagoan heavy metal warband, Fer de Lance (not to be confused with the Peruvian thrashers of the same name). Coming onto the scene only five years ago with their Colossus EP, and debut full-length The Hyperborean in 2022, the band have flown completely under my radar until now. They peddle in “epic doom”—basically, fantasy-fuelled, mid-paced heavy metal full of lurching, heroic riffs and deliberate kitwork, like a steadfast march towards glory and gold. Taken in by the gorgeous cover art of latest album, Fires on the Mountainside, and intrigued by the promise of the epic doom metal by which Fer de Lance mark their trade, I was eager to see if these mighty men of metal have what it takes to break the curse and return the fire to my fantasy-loving heart.

If ever there was a soundtrack to evoke the sword-and-sorcery, devil-may-care adventuring of Robert E. Howard’s brooding Cimmerian, Conan, and kindred ilk, Fires on the Mountainside makes a strong case for consideration. From minute one, opener (and title track) “Fires on the Mountainside” saunters forth with jaunty guitar and a bard-worthy chorus as frontman MP bellows “I seeee… fires on the mountainside,” tossing in some Woah-ohs for good measure. Flickers of black metal emerge in the bridge as trem-picking and rasped vocals create a sense of descent into danger, showcasing Fer de Lance’s ability to steer the material wherever the greatest adventure lies. At nearly thirteen minutes, “Fires on the Mountainside” is one hell of a way to kick off a record, as it twists and turns and climbs across subgenres, from rousing epic doom, black metal, and glints of folk in the acoustic-strummed guitars that underpin much of the proceedings. MP’s range is impressive as he plumbs the depths of rattling growls, tough-guy gravel, all the way to the high-fantasy heights of falsetto wails.

What follows across the album’s forty-nine minutes sees the band pull from much of the same arsenal—though like the aforementioned Conan, they’ve descended from their wind-swept kingdom well-versed in their chosen arts, as no two songs sound the same. Take “Fire & Gold” with its Western-infused musical gallop, hand tambourines and stomping drums heralding a lone stranger’s ride into the kind of town where violence and virtue may yet clash, the dusty road stained black with an enemy’s blood under the white-hot bake of high noon. The chorus of “Death Thrives (Where Walls Divide)” sees MP’s harshes hit a vicious cadence akin to Legion of the Damned frontman Maurice Swinkels, giving the song an extra dose of theatrical menace before shifting into Eastern-influenced guitar wizardry of a most fine kind. MP finds some Ronnie James Dio-adjacent power in the vocals on “The Feast of Echoes,” leaning into some fun “mhmmmhmms” that make me think of a testosterone-fueled version of Rainbow.¹

Elsewhere and everywhere, I’m reminded in small ways of Eternal Champion, mostly in the band’s full-fledged commitment to the material. Fires on the Mountainside is refreshing: Unlike some fantasy-themed bands who write with their tongues planted firmly through cheek (and thus dabbling in irony-poisoned cringe), Fer de Lance write and perform their music with an unabashed, shameless love for the fantasy genre—theatrical, yes, but taken seriously. The songs are rousing, with full-chested deliveries and a palpable energy, despite the more moderate pacing. My only real complaint about the album is that some of the songs drag on a tad too long, and after a while I tend to forget where I am on the record. This is the kind of album that would absolutely thrive on a playlist. The songs are replete with fun transitions showcasing the music’s textures, which provide each track with individual merit. Yet together, Fires on the Mountainside loses some of its energy, the blazing bonfire giving ground to the encroaching shadows of distraction. By the time we reach “Tempest Stele,” the storm has turned into more of a gust and my legs ache for want of resting.

All said, Fer de Lance have come out of (subjectively) nowhere to impart upon mine ears a winsome collection of epic tales. In a day and age where fantasy-themed metal has largely been relegated to my rearview, Fires on the Mountainside stands as a perfect reminder that there are still bands out there writing the kind of stuff I crave—and new ones, at that! Like my current reading experience with Robert E. Howard’s The Coming of Conan the Cimmerian, Fires on the Mountainside offers a collection of well-crafted gems worthy of uncovering—perhaps best individually, rather than in one fell swoop. If you’ve been starved for metal of a steelier order, or just on the lookout for something new, then heed that yonder firelight in the distance, and let Fer de Lance take you on a glorious adventure.

Recommended tracks: Fires on the Mountainside, Death Thrives (Where Walls Divide), The Feast of Echoes
You may also like: Eternal Champion, Sumerlands, Conan
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Cruz de Sur Music Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Fer de Lance is:
– Rüst (bass, acoustic guitars, vocals, percussion)
– MP (vocals, guitars, keyboards)
– Scud (drums, vocals)
– J. Geist (guitars)

1.  I would love to hear Fer de Lance cover “Gates of Babylon.” ︎

The post Review: Fer de Lance – Fires on the Mountainside appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal, power metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Symphony X, Dream Theater, Seventh Wonder, Angra
Country: United States-New York
Release date: 14 June 2025

Sometimes I lament the fact that I only started The Progressive Subway in 2018. There werevso many interesting underground albums in the years prior, but if not for reviewing, finding a reason to attentively listen to a random good, maybe even great obscure album from, say, 2014 becomes increasingly difficult as the years go by. An underground album needs to be either strikingly unique or exceptionally well written (or both!) to stand the test of time. One such album I wish I had gotten to review is Daydream XI’s 2017 release The Circus of the Tattered and Torn: a brilliant concept album in classic prog metal fashion, blending Symphony X, Dream Theater, and Seventh Wonder in equal parts. Tragically, Daydream XI disbanded as their main songwriter Tiago Masseti moved from Brazil to New York. Now, eight years after Circus, Masseti has blessed us with a solo album to continue his prog-power quest for the stars. Can Odds and Ends live up to the hype?

In many ways, Odds and Ends continues where Circus left off and shows much of what made that album so special: ferocious, heavy-as-balls riffage, superb lead guitar work skillfully balancing melody and shred, charismatic vocals, tight songwriting, and all the odd-time and transition wankery a prog fan could ask for. The overall tone has become darker, however, thanks to brooding synths and slightly more ferocious riffs, and Masseti has also experimented with multi-tracking himself to make a choir, such as on “The Singer in the Arms of Winter” and “Never Be Like You”. Of course, one must not forget to mention the heavy Symphony X influences that seep through nearly every crack of Masseti’s writing, most of which he disguises just well enough to avoid the worship allegations (for when he doesn’t—just listen to the intro of “Heir of the Survivor”), and the clear Dream Theater-isms that pop up in proggier moments (e.g. the unison solo in “Against Our Fire”). Either way, Masseti’s talent for songwriting ensures influences are cute nods instead of belabored crutches, and his instrumental prowess is dazzling as ever.

At a succinct 47 minutes, Odds and Ends is remarkably compact, for the prog-power genre at large but especially so considering both Daydream XI albums spanned over 70 minutes. Much like Circus, the first half of Odds and Ends consists of compact, riff-driven tracks, while the latter half contains epics, slow burners, and ballads. This structuring leads to incredible momentum at first, but rather stilted pacing in the mid-to-late stretch that the album’s closing epic can only partially remedy, as any gathered steam has been irretrievably lost. On Circus, “Forgettable” was the major momentum killer, ironically living up to its name by being the third lengthy slow-starting track in a row when a faster overall tempo was needed (on a sidenote: this is my only real gripe with Circus). On Odds and Ends, most momentum from the first three tracks was already “Gone” thanks to a breather ballad, but it’s the follow-up Dio-homage “The Singer in the Arms of Winter” that truly wreaks the album’s pacing with its dramatic, plodding arrangements and extended ballad-y outro. The track is fine in execution by itself—if a tad long—thanks to Masseti’s excellent vocal prowess, but its awkward placement unnecessarily brings it down. The following “Never Be Like You” tries to patch things up by beginning explosively, but another extended outro—this time in dramatic midtempo—puts a lid on that fire before it could spread. 

Remarkably however, I found that switching the track order of “The Singer in the Arms of Winter” and “Never Be Like You” immediately fixes nearly all pacing issues (the remaining issue being that both tracks could have easily been trimmed a minute or two). As it stands, track 4 “Gone” is a welcome heartfelt breather, but the transition into the drama of “The Singer” is clunky both tonally and pacing-wise. By placing “Never Be Like You” at track 5 instead of 6, the album smoothly regains its momentum. The track opens with a very brief hypnotic, slightly haunting modal guitar motif—somewhere between phrygian and atonal—that gives an unsettling, vaguely Middle-Eastern vibe before unleashing a hellfire riff barrage. Coming off the emotionally charged twin-harmony solo that “Gone” ends with, this transition naturally reintroduces tension and intensity into the album’s narrative structure. Meanwhile, the song’s dramatic mid-tempo outro segues seamlessly into the lumbering, brooding heft of “The Singer”, whose ballad-like outro then glides without “Hindrance” into a gorgeous piano ballad.

But pacing issues are not the only complaint I have about Odds and Ends; Masseti’s vocals seem to have deteriorated ever so slightly since his Daydream XI days, too. He’s still got a majestic, versatile voice, but there’s forcefulness in his delivery that he didn’t need before, sounding noticeably more strained. Compare, for instance, his singing in “Trust-Forged Knife” by Daydream XI to virtually any track on Odds and Ends: on the former, he’s silky smooth for the softer lines and effortlessly majestic when he’s belting, while on Odds and Ends he sounds like he’s pushing his voice beyond its capabilities to impress you, coming off unnecessarily edgy. Furthermore, the compression levels on Odds and Ends border on unpleasant, most notably in the drums, making the record louder than it needs to be—again adding to the edgy masculinity feeling. The production is great otherwise, providing ample room for each instrument, and the riffs are positively crushing—I just wish it all came without the ear fatigue.

Critiques aside, Masseti’s exceptional talent for songcraft shines through many a time on Odds and Ends. “The Pool of Liquid Dreams” might be the shortest metal song on the album, but it’s by far the most densely packed one, going from leads that sound like they could have come out of a Slash record, to pop punk, to intense power metal, to absurdly cool odd-time sections and blistering shred, and back. Similarly, “Against Our Fire” is a rapid prog-power track with especially impressive soloing and it successfully experiments with harsh vocals in the chorus. And while I ragged on their track order, Masseti pulls out all the vocal stops for phenomenal results when “The Singer in the Arms of Winter” reaches its climax, and the vocal multi-tracking in “Never Be Like You” is used creatively. Finally, “Serpents and Whores” and “Heir of the Survivor” are fantastic bookend tracks. The former is a heavy, suspenseful chonker of an opener, while the latter blends melodic beauty with dynamic prog metal, taking clear inspiration from neoclassical Symphony X epics like “The Accolade” or “Through the Looking Glass”. That said, one could argue its opening melodies evoke that particular sound a little too well.

While Odds and Ends may not be exceptional like The Circus of the Tattered and Torn, it’s great to have Masseti back on the prog metal stage. He’s an extremely talented songwriter and performer with a lot of charisma. Much like its name indicates, Odds and Ends plays like a collection of ideas that don’t always coalesce well, but when they do, the results are spectacular. I hope he’ll be able to bless us with his songwriting talents more frequently from here on out; after all, it’d be a shame to let the momentum go to waste.

Recommended tracks: Serpents and Whores, The Pool of Liquid Dreams, Heir of the Survivor
You may also like: Daydream XI, Sacred Outcry, Scardust, Manticora, Witherfall
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Independent

Masseti is:
– Thiago Masseti (vocals, guitars, piano, keyboards)
With guests:
– Thiago Caurio (drums on tracks 1, 3, 4, 6, 8)
– Benhur Lima (bass)
– Bruno Pinheiro Machado (guitar solo on track 2)
– Renato Osório (additional guitars on track 4, 5)
– Marcelo Pereira (guitar solo on track 6)
– Cezar Tortorelli (orchestration on track 2)
– Fábio Caldeira (piano, orchestration on track 7)
– Eduardo Baldo (drums on tracks 2, 5)

The post Review: Masseti – Odds and Ends appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Post-metal, progressive metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: The Ocean, Mastodon, Psychonaut
Country: Croatia
Release date: 21 June 2025

Some things are much harder to learn later in life. As a triathlete, I lament the fact that I didn’t learn to swim properly as a kid. Sure, I eventually picked up the freestyle stroke well enough, but I’d be significantly faster had I instilled proper technique when my mind was younger and more malleable. At age 33, no matter how much I train, my technique has stagnated, even as I get fitter and fitter. Languages are similar, as I’m sure the hordes of people my age who’ve given up on Duolingo can attest. There’s a little-used word for the late learner, who may have missed the formative advantages of youth: an opsimath.

Opsimath also happens to be the name of the one-man metal project masterminded by Croatian multi-instrumentalist and vocalist Kristijan Bajlo. What the name refers to is up for interpretation: musically, is Bajlo an opsimath? Unlikely, given that he’s the same age as me and has built up a formidable list of active and past projects dating back to at least 2007. Perhaps the name refers to a late decision to begin Opsimath, and the learning required to carry it out, as the project wasn’t created until 2020. Maybe the name is nothing more than a name. Whatever the case, after Opsimath’s strong 2023 debut, Bajlo is back with Hauntings of Intrepid Stardust. Joining him is a host of guest musicians and vocalists, though he remains the project’s primary driver. Opsimath or not, does Bajlo’s follow-up effort show learning and progression, or does it stagnate like my middling swim stroke?

Although rooted in post-metal, Bajlo isn’t afraid to draw from whatever genres he sees fit, as Hauntings of Intrepid Stardust has elements from all over the metal universe. The overt black metal inspiration of the debut is nearly absent, but you can hear shades of prog, groove, stoner, thrash, a touch of Gothenburg, death, and others. And while none of Bajlo’s songwriting is especially unique in isolation, the way he dynamically infuses these different styles keeps the record exciting. Hauntings’ structure is somewhat unorthodox, offering eight tracks, with four heavier ones each followed by a softer one. From a compositional or conceptual standpoint, it’s not clear to me why Bajlo organized the songs in this heavy-soft pattern, and the listening experience can feel a little disjointed. But the quality of the songs themselves and Bajlo’s ability to wield and blend different genres so effectively make this easy to forgive. 

“The Snake,” for example, has a groovin’ albeit somewhat generic verse riff with Hetfield-like vocals, but soon the tempo slows and a proggy, off-kilter triplet rhythm takes hold; a hooky chorus follows, a soulful solo and swinging bridge comes after that, and then the track explodes into a full-on death metal section. That’s a lot packed into a song that’s so easy to listen to. Meanwhile, Gothenburg-esque guitars propel “The Beast” forward into a thrashy midsection and ripping solo. The two standout songs, however, are opener “Into the Abyss” and penultimate track “Under the Sunless Sky,” each being an absolute riff fest with plenty of texture. The former includes a classical guitar opening with traditional percussion, and the latter features an excellent mixture of male and female vocals. “Under the Sunless Sky” also has one of the catchiest riffs of the year, beginning the bridge just shy of the three-minute mark. The guitar solo that comes in and plays over it is the icing on the cake. 

Hauntings’ four other tracks—all of the softer variety—don’t quite match up in quality to their heavier counterparts, but they’re well done and enjoyable enough. Each is driven primarily by clean guitars, light percussion, and emotive vocals. Indeed, Bajlo and his guest vocalists are notably strong across the entire album, heavy and gentle tracks alike, varying emotion and intensity as each passage demands with gruff yet often melodic deliveries. From the hellish growls before the final chorus of “The Snake” to the heartfelt crooning of “Through the Whirlwinds,” the vocals consistently impress. The performance in closing track “Onward” is the biggest surprise, having an approach with an uncanny resemblance to that of Pain of Salvation’s Daniel Gildenlöw. Odd as that may seem after seven songs without theatrical flair, the vocals are charming and provide a memorable ending to the album.

Ultimately, Hauntings of Intrepid Stardust stands as an accessible yet refined metal album. Its main ingredients—the songwriting, vocals, and instrumental performances—are rock solid, and it boasts a production and mix on par with any other album out there. Although Hauntings might not feel perfectly balanced in its structure and quality, and its material isn’t earth-shattering, anyone who enjoys metal should find quite a lot to like. Hauntings of Intrepid Stardust builds upon Opsimath’s debut and delivers another success—Bajlo, the opsimath perhaps, has done it again. Maybe that’s all the inspiration I need to get back in the pool.

Recommended tracks: Into the Abyss, Under the Sunless Sky, Onward
You may also like: SIKASA, Cobra the Impaler, Hippotraktor, Obscure Sphinx
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Independent

Opsimath is:
– Kristijan Bajlo (all instruments, vocals)
With guests:
– Bruno Longfield (vocals, “Into the Abyss”)
– Karlo Žampera (lead guitars, “Into the Abyss” and “The Snake”)
– Linda Primožić Kinda (classical guitars, “Into the Abyss”)
– Toma Cukrov (keyboards, “Take Me Home”)
– Dario Berg (vocals, “The Snake”)
– Damir Tomić (vocals, “The Beast”)
– Bruno Grobelšek (lead guitars, “The Beast”)
– Lea Magzan (vocals, “Under the Sunless Sky”)
– Viktor Petrina (lead guitars, “Under the Sunless Sky”)

The post Review: Opsimath – Hauntings of Intrepid Stardust appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

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

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

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

Style: Black metal, melodic black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Emperor, Dissection
Country: Ohio, United States
Release date: 20 June 2025

As a ten-year old kid, I first discovered The Hobbit in my elementary school library. Its charm, characters, call to adventure, and perhaps above all, its meticulously crafted fictional world drew me in like no story ever has—at least in the literary realm. That initial enchantment naturally led to The Lord of the Rings, just in time for Peter Jackson’s films to hit theaters as I was finishing the books. I’ve returned to Tolkien’s saga many times since, and still revisit it now and then. As often happens, a love of Middle-earth opened the door to other high (and low) fantasy realms. Does your book have a map of a fictional world in the opening pages? Then I’ll probably check it out at some point.

Pair the allure of fantasy with my innate love of metal, and it’s no surprise that artists like Blind Guardian and Summoning quickly became favorites—bands whose music is conjured for a Tolkien-bred imagination. A few years ago, I was able to add another group to that cabal: Valdrin. But, unlike those who reinterpret familiar stories or put music to an existing lore, Valdrin have created a mythos all their own—a literary world inscribed upon black metal scrolls. I would be doing their work a disservice trying to summarize the hero’s journey of the titular character and his struggle with the malevolent Nex Animus, but suffice it to say: spiritual warfare, collapsing worlds, and existential dread are just the beginning.

Valdrin’s newest chapter, Apex Violator, continues their long-running saga of mythic chaos with a relentless, oppressive energy. While their previous album, Throne of the Lunar Soul, explored moments of triumph and sorrow amidst celestial fallout, Apex Violator is all sinister fury—a bit melodic, a tad fantastical, but pure scraping black metal cloaked in eldritch atmosphere. Scathing riffs wrapped in dissonant arpeggiation (“Ignite the Murder Shrine,” “The Muttering Derelict”), blistering percussion (“Poison Soul Vents”), and demonic, blood-curdling howls (“Veins of Akasha”) make up the bulk of this EP. We’re forgoing variety in favor of overwhelming force, here.

That dark force is made all the more sinister by various synths, keyboards, and choral chants throughout Apex Violator, lending a bit of flavor to the black metal cacophony. These elements are rarely the primary focus—they instead haunt the soundscape and lend an ominous sense to the EP. A standout in this regard is “Black Imperial Smoke,” whose macabre vocal chants can be nothing but cursed hymns echoing from the halls of a shadowy ruin. Additionally, the bridge in “Poison Soul Vents” has been stuck in my head for the past week, in no small part due to the deep, thrumming piano underneath the ominous guitar riff.

Still, I miss the sadness and grandeur that Throne of the Lunar Soul sprinkled around. Apex Violator is fairly one-note by comparison—little if any acoustic pensiveness, triumphant melody, or interludes for a breather to form those peaks and valleys that help create a truly standout album for me. This EP being a chapter dedicated to Nex Animus, I can understand why the atmosphere of the album is pure evil. I can’t help but wonder what pairing it with an emotionally unraveling latter half might do to elevate it, though.

As a standalone listen, Apex Violator may blur together a little, with little in the way of audible contrast. Yet, fans of the dark majesty of Emperor or the seething, melodic dissonance of Dissection will find much to admire here. Valdrin channels the phantasm of those black metal titans through the lens of their grim cosmology—and for the initiated, the fury of Apex Violator is another book of scripture. Map or not.

Recommended tracks: Black Imperial Smoke, Ignite the Murder Shrine
You may also like: Stormkeep, Caladan Brood, Gallowbraid
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Avantgarde Music – Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram | Website | Metal-Archives

Valdrin is:
– Colton Deem (guitars)
– Carter Hicks (vocals, guitars, keyboards)
– James Lewis (bass)
– Ryan Maurmeier (drums)

The post Review: Valdrin – Apex Violator appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: dissonant black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Deathspell Omega, Blut Aus Nord, Mgła¹, Misþyrming, Behemoth
Country: Poland
Release date: 27 June 2025

Polish art would have you believe the country is the most depressing place on Earth. Sculptor Alina Szapocznikow documented human suffering, fragmenting the female form and criticizing labor practices and war; filmmaker Artur Zmijewski looks into the traumatic past of his nation; and every metal fan is well-acquainted with the dystopian surrealist painters Zdzislaw Beksinski and Mariusz Lewandowski. Naturally, the nihilism of visual art has wormed its way deep into the heart of Polish metal with the country’s distinct black metal scene leading the charge, with notable artists like Mgła, Behemoth, and Batushka. Digging a little deeper into the scene’s catacombs, one will find K.M.’s dissonant black metal project Ars Magna Umbrae, full of existential dread yet fraying at the seams with the slightest twinkle of melody.

K.M. joins forces with vocalist E (Cultum Inferitum) to form a new band Thanatorean. Their debut record Ekstasis of Subterranean Curren picks up the writhing dissonance from K.M.’s main project, certainly, and at first glance is another inimically opaque record, styled after diabolical black metal icons, like Mgła and Deathspell Omega. On the surface, Ekstasisof Subterranean Currents seems like another solid entry into the canon of Polish black metal, and that’s that, end of story. And one wouldn’t be wrong for reading the record that way. The record opens on “The Descent” with creepy ambience suddenly racing into second-wave black metal riffery, swirling tremolos peaking their way above the seedy underbelly of the mix. E lets out well-enunciated beastly growls and gralloching highs across the record, cutting through the filthy, deathened black metal. Stormy bouts of chaotic noise overwhelm the senses at times like at the end of “With Tongues of the Underworld” and “Tranquil Trueness of End.” And throughout Ekstasis of Subterranean Currents, riffs contort unexpectedly to create a haunting atmosphere, permeated with dissonance. That’s the Polish black metal experience.

Thanatorean are more than meets the ear, however, and Ekstasis of Subterranean Currents is—dare I say—a fun record at heart. As opposed to the grim philosophy and anti-religious sentiments of the other bands mentioned, Ekstasis of Subterranean Currents plays around with death cults in their lyrics, utilizing dramatic vocabulary, camp rhyme schemes, and occasional dramatic spoken word (the final four stanzas of “To Abyss Sacrosanct” each open with an infinitive verb spoken before three short lines of E’s beastly harsh vocals. It’s incredibly sick, and Thanatorean don’t overuse the songwriting device). The attempt at high-brow lyricism is (perhaps unintentionally) funny as hell in a good way, the duo not taking themselves too seriously.

More importantly, the music is a rowdily great time. K.M. demonstrates his fealty to the riff as second-wave black metal and evolved dissonance collide—Thanatorean are at their most interesting and engaging when they experiment on the Ars Magna Umbrae side of the sound more than the traditional one. The angsty black metal musicians often still have excellent riffing, but Thanatorean separate themselves from their Polish kin with their occasional flashes of swagger. “The Descent” has a ripping guitar solo; every track has endlessly mutating and intricate guitar parts with silvering leads; and “De Profundis” and “To Abyss Sacrosanct” open with abhorrently tasty bass licks. In opposition to the complexity of the guitar lines, the songwriting on Ekstasis of Subterranean Currents is tame, with little variation in track-length or tempo among the nine short tracks. A few tracks also conclude with fadeouts, frustrating for the quality of progressive song evolutions K.M. has proven to be capable of with Ars Magna Umbrae. 

I’m pleasantly surprised at how Ekstasis of Subterranean Currents defied my expectations for it. K.M.’s mastery of warped atmospheres and E’s filthy vocals go together perfectly, blending to make Ekstasis of Subterranean Currents a record sonically evil but tonally more of a headbanger than a brooder-in-the-corner. Thanatorean’s debut is a solid proof of concept and a breath of fresh air for the Polish scene—I just hope they lean into a bit more weirdness going forward.

Recommended tracks: The Descent, De Profundis, To Abyss Sacrosanct
You may also like: Ars Magna Umbrae, Fryktelig Støy, Haar, Spectral Voice, Zhrine, Thy Darkened Shade, Kriegsmaschine, Negative Plane, Mānbryne
Final verdict: 7/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Metal-Archives

Label: I, Voidhanger Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Thanatorean is:
– K.M. (everything)
– E (vocals)

1. We are aware of DSO and Mgła‘s sketchy ties and do NOT support these bands and are merely using them as a sonic reference. ︎

The post Review: Thanatorean – Ekstasis of Subterranean Currents 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: Power metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Shaman, Angra, Queensrÿche
Country: Brazil
Release date: 13 June 2025

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Label: Wikimetal Records – Facebook | Official Website

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

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

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