Style:  progressive black metal, electronica, industrial metal, symphonic metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Mechina, Thy Catafalque, Sigh
Country: France
Release date: 1 August 2025

I love when an artist has a philosophical vision that the music matches. The man behind Creatvre, Raphaël Fournier, knows exactly what he wants Toujours Humain (Always Human) to represent: a deep tension between being human and being part of the fast-approaching technological future. In I, Voidhanger’s Bandcamp blurb for the record, Fournier drops some absolutely fire explanations like “It [Toujours Humain] echoes the cries of those no longer heard, fragments of tweets turned into prayers” and “It’s an allegory of self-erasure for individuals, as programmed by those who set the agenda… The shame of still being biological.” A bit pretentious? Absolutely. But the description is undoubtedly poetic, and Toujours Humain definitely walks the walk.

As a writer at a blog of luddites, I am naturally drawn far more to the side of Creatvre that looks toward the past and not the imminent technocratic future. The project’s 2020 record, Ex Cathedra, is brilliant Baroque-inspired black metal with flute and real strings; in 2025, the Baroque aspect of Creatvre’s sound is wrapped into synthwave à la Keygen Church, the only remnants of non-electronic instruments being sax and trumpet in tracks like “R+X,” “Diffimation,” and “Shaïna.” Toujours Humain successfully distorts their classical compositional style rooted in human tradition into an industrial, synthesized album that sounds like it could be from the future.

Synths and synthesized choirs, off-kilter electronic beats, and industrial metal barking harshes lay down the foundation for Toujours Humain and its view of technology. Atop that base, Creatvre creatively branches out in a couple ways: the aforementioned Baroque influence in impressive counterpoint (“Hope Inc.”, “Chant des Limbes”), dancey industrial beats under trem picking (“Plus Humain”), vocoder (“Plus Humain”) and dynamic synthwave (“Toujours en Bas,” “Diffamation”). Fournier also explores several compositional assets that don’t work in his favor, like the constant industrial sections focused on rhythm much more than melody, the latter of which is Creatvre’s strong suit. Some tracks rely too much on those industrial cliches, too, leading them to be completely forgettable on the tracklist (“R+X” aside from its trumpet part, “810-M4SS”). Fournier’s vocals are also one-note, staying entirely within a small span of mid-range harsh growls, with an odd whispered quality from multilayering, that feel out of place compared to the often exploratory and dynamic music on Toujours Humain. 

Exacerbating the middling industrial metal sections is a loud, fittingly over-produced sound. The strong guitar leads on “Syntropie” and “Chant des Limbes” get buried in a dozen different synth tones, which bleep, bloop, arpeggio, and provide a fat bottom end to the sound. No room is left for breathing in the mix—not that our cyborg counterparts will need air—in favor of a full, epic sound. The choral moments are the only ones that benefit from the loud mix, as they achieve a bombastic score-like quality, similar to Neurotech. The rare moments where fewer elements are moving around the sonic space in parallel are clearly where Creatvre excels; for instance, at 1:12 in “Hope Inc.”, Fournier isolates the main lead guitar with a single synth line to go into the Baroque-infused main melody in the “chorus” of sorts. The track also has a much more energetic swing than much of the rest of the album, mostly avoiding the industrial slog. 

Fournier gets his point across on Toujours Humain that man and machine are on an imminent collision course with his blend of old and new, but I hope that he rediscovers his more human composition because my still-unchipped brain prefers the symphonic black metal of Ex Cathedra over the industrial synthiness of Toujours Humain. Or, perhaps, I’m just too slow at evolving to fit the new technology and will be left behind as an embarrassing remnant of what our species was, fleshy and reliant on oxygen.

Recommended tracks: Hope Inc., Chant des Limbes, Diffamation
You may also like: Grey Aura, Neurotech, Keygen Church, Les Chants du Hasard
Final verdict: 6/10

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

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

Creatvre is:
– Raphaël Fournier (voice, guitars, bass, synths, drums, trombones, trumpet, saxophone)
With guests:
– Ombre Ecarlate (additional composition)
– Cédric Sebastian (additional vocals on tracks 6-7)

The post Review: Creatvre – Toujours Humain appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: experimental black metal, psychedelic black metal, dissonant black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Oranssi Pazuzu, Blut Aus Nord, Ulcerate
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: 1 August 2025

A couple of my non-metal friends asked me the difference between black metal and death metal at dinner the other day, and I struggled to come up with a sufficient answer before finally deciding on “black metal focuses on atmosphere; death metal on bludgeoning.” It’s a drastic oversimplification, but how else would you describe the minutiae of extreme metal subgenres to people who would hear both as offensive noise? I was relatively proud of my off-the-cuff answer. British psychedelic black metal band Sea Mosquito certainly fit my miniature description of black metal as a wave of guitar, synth, and drums washes over the listener for forty-four minutes on Majestas. The record can be oppressively nightmarish, but without many distinct riffs, the atmosphere the group conjures is key to their success. 

The guitar parts function in the same manner as the synths—a background for the drums and rare lead guitars. From the swirly album opener “Organs Dissolved in Lacquer” to the dissonant closer “To Look upon Your Own Skeleton,” you are baptized in tremolo picking, awash in ambient synths. Occasionally, Sea Mosquito blesses the listener with a cleaner guitar tone, providing a lead above the murk like on “In Reverence of Pain.” Those moments with something more concrete to grab onto are godsends amidst the dark, hellish undercurrent. Beyond the guitars, the drums on Majestas are strong and dynamic. The drummer transitions between nice blast beats like on “In Reverence of Pain” to being the center focus like at 3:00 in “Organs Dissolved in Lacquer,” where he does monstrous cascading lines as if he provides the riff. While the rest of the band waffles about on their instruments, he carries Sea Mosquito’s inertia and rhythm—without him, Majestas has no movement.

Weirdly, Sea Mosquito leave the vocals drowning in the shadows while the acerbic highs would do well to create some clearer tension in their sound. When the vocals take center stage—the spoken harshes heralding the climax of “Ascension” and the spoken Arabic in the ghazal in “Ode to Wine” notably—are the moments when Majestas reaches its full potential. The lyrics, while difficult to parse except when vocalist Nuun switches into a more spoken register, are always interesting, contributing excellently to the cult-like atmosphere. My favorite track, “Ascension,” is elevated by its critique of postmodernism, with a crystal-clear uttering of “you will never feel the power of the sublime” leading into a bright, expansive, yet oppressive wall of sound as a climax. Many of the lyrics are inspired by Romanian religious scholar Mircea Eliade, and the literary slant is one of the album’s strongest assets in terms of atmosphere-crafting. 

But despite the many atmospheric strengths of Majestas, the emphasis on that aspect of their sound is the record’s downfall. Hardly a memorable moment is to be found in most of the tracks on the record, as it becomes an amorphous slog, more focused on textural style than songwriting substance. The album is nightmarish, psychedelic, and literary, yet the lack of sharp songwriting and forgettable riffs, while also mixing the vocals too low, is too much to overlook, leaving Sea Mosquito to be just another dissoblack album to add to the pile.

Recommended tracks: Ascension, In Reverence of Pain, Ode to Wine
You may also like: Decline of the I, The Great Old Ones, Haar, Omega Infinity, Noise Trail Immersion
Final verdict: 6/10

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

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

Sea Mosquito is:
– Nuun – Voice
– Fas – Spirit
– Akmonas – Soma

The post Review: Sea Mosquito – Majestas appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: technical death metal (mixed vocals, mostly harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Soreption, Gorod, Rivers of Nihil
Country: Russia
Release date: 18 July 2025

Every band name ever is stupid, so as long as you aren’t a common noun/verb/adjective (Need, Oak, X) or utter nonsense that’s hard to look up or type (OU, Lyxætherivminthraxas, Xavlegbmaofff…X), you’re doing ok for yourself. And I’ll add an honorable mention for the category of band names “___ and the ____s,” my personal least favorite. Even the most legendary of bands have stupid names: Megadeth sounds like a dyslexic fifth grader named a band, and The Beatles is a cheesy pun. Every year, I find more bands to add to the “terrible band names” pile. Only halfway through this year, and I’ve already stumbled across acts like Professor Emeritus, Wyatt E., Frogg, Pissectomy, and Toughness for the first time. Next on the endless list of hilariously terrible Noun band names is Anthill. Surely they make up for the terrible title with a decent working album title, right? …Right?

Well, Russian tech death outfit Anthill have shafted themselves a little by calling their second LP Volume III (Climbing the Bone Mountain), adorned with (I believe) unintentionally phallic cover art. No matter how serious the music is—and the record has a fully fleshed out story in the lyrics telling a fantasy tale full of blood, bones, war, self-actualization, and pus—I will giggle like a seventh grader every time I think about Anthill clambering up boner mountain. But alas, this is supposed to be a music review and not an album title one, so I’m happy to report Anthill‘s music is miles better than their christening abilities.

Anthilov’s guitar playing is incredibly intricate in contorted patterns and odd rhythms, with full-bodied basslines weaving their way into the heart of the riffs and dynamic drumming underneath it all. All in all, Volume III (Climbing the Bone Mountain) is everything you can ask for as far as working man’s tech death goes. He shows off elite skill with his fretboard, the riffs hammering away with little disregard for anything but virile technicality with Soreption-esque groove. He incorporates many techniques like the sleek trem-picking at the end of “At the Foothill” to fast alternate picking at 3:40 in “III Trail (Withered Trees),” one of the strongest riffs on the album. The real star of Anthilov’s riff-writing capabilities is the manner in which the guitar and bass interact, switching between who carries the melody and who the harmony repeatedly, the interplay consistently reminding me of “Lay Your Ghosts to Rest” by Between the Buried and Me throughout the album.

As a tech death album, I’d hope the performances are killer, though, so how are the other aspects of the music? Riding… er, Climbing the Bone Mountain is produced with a DIY charm, and Anthill avoids pretty much all tech death production pitfalls; Anthilov’s tones are dirty enough to not be sterile yet they remain also crisp, and the bass fills out the bottom of the mix without being lost. Unfortunately, Anthill run into several problems with songwriting—namely, they cannot naturally transition between riffs or ideas, often due to awkward time signature changes. The songs therefore quickly devolve into an endless string of spaffed out notes at rapid speed, and after a couple dozen riffs without creating any sort of theme, the guitar parts completely lose me in their knottiness, compounded by a lack of any cohesion in the songwriting. Everything blurs together. The brief moments that change up the speedy, tech death pace are the record’s most mediocre parts, too, including inoffensive but bland spoken word (“I Trail (Smoldering Torches),” unrefined clean vocals (“II Trail (Magic Mirrors)”), and a wholly disappointing cello solo from Orgone’s cellist that just doesn’t fit the vibe of the track (“III Trail (Withered Trees)”), seeming supplanted on top of the riff rather than being actually integrated into the meat of the song. The only change in pace that really works is the brief interlude/intro track “Crossroads. Intro,” a lovely solo piano piece setting the stage for the second half of the album. 

Despite demonstrating promising talent with their fingers, I don’t think Anthill will be the cause for many bone mountains yet. Thankfully, headbanging is more of a guarantee, and digging into the more intricate riffs has proved enjoyable even if forty-four minutes of them straight has my eyes glazing over, metaphorically. In a scene with competition as stiff as tech death, Anthill needs to keep at it if he wants any chance of mounting the tip, the zenith of the genre. And remember, kids: don’t use an Anthill as a fleshlight, even if you can’t get someone to summit your bone mountain.

Recommended tracks: At the Foothill, Crossroads, V Trail (Apogee of Enmity)
You may also like: Sentiment Dissolve, Carnosus, Inanimate Existence, Coexistence
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: independent

Anthill is:
– Artem Anthilov (guitars, vocals, bass)
– Evgeny Nesterov (bass)
– Andrey Litvinenko, Alexander Kasiarum, Ivan Korniienko (bass)
With guests:
Stephen Jarrett (Orgone) – backing vocals in I, II and V Trail, Intro to Crossroads.
Chris Bradley (Beneath the massacre) – guest guitar solo in Crossroads.
Denis Shvarts (Dark Matter Secret) – guest guitar solo in IV Trail.
Andrey Matchtevelov – guest cello solo in III Trail.

The post Review: Anthill – Volume III (Climbing the Bone Mountain) appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Dream Theater, Haken, Threshold, Circus Maximus
Country: Germany
Release date: 25 July 2025

Progressive metal is no stranger to classic literature. From Mastodon’s retelling of Moby Dick on Leviathan (one of my all-time favorite albums) to Symphony X’s The Odyssey based on, well, The Odyssey, prog metal fans could probably ace a high school literature class just by referencing their record collections. The two media may as well be siblings—sharing complex and expanding structures, lofty ideas and existential themes, and a tendency to prioritize the journey over any particular moment or destination. Both demand patience while rewarding immersion, and you’re going to need a lot of the former with Tiny Miracles, the second full-length from international prog-metalers Sad Serenity. From well-known works like Thoreau’s Walden to relatively obscure science fiction short stories such as An Empty House with Many Doors by Michael Swanwick, each of the six tracks on Tiny Miracles takes some influence from the literary realm, blending music and narrative in true prog fashion.

Sad Serenity’s 2023 debut, The Grand Enigma, revealed a band that pulls from the traddiest of trad-prog: high vocals hover atop liquid smooth distorted guitars, various and sundry tickled ivories, and some flashy drum-work—all wrapped in a flair for technical proficiency, a taste for intricate songwriting, and an eye toward grand, cinematic ideas both lyrical and musical. Their music prays to Dream Theater while lighting candles at Haken’s altar. Tiny Miracles is no different in this regard. With improved production, refined riffage, and a clear concept, the LP marks an upward trajectory for Sad Serenity.

However, one element of their debut still looms large: excess. Now, I’ll happily listen to a twenty-minute prog epic. I’m an endurance listener, not a sprinter. But long songs still need movement, contrast, and development to earn their keep. Here, little if any tonal variation within or between the songs helps to establish their identities. Rather than unfolding, the songs often feel stretched to their absolute limits. “Tiny” miracles, these are not. “The Elemental Dance,” Tiny Miracles’ lengthiest showcase at nearly twenty-three minutes, illustrates this issue. Opening with a skip hopping guitar riff accompanied by some attention catching synths and keyboards, it journeys through several movements spliced by quasi-interludes that provide only a little dynamic contrast. These movements—mostly made up of identically-toned guitar riffs and impressive, sweepy solos—aren’t distinguishable enough from each other to recall much beyond the intriguing intro.

I’m tempted to say that you could superimpose that problem on Tiny Miracles as a whole, but a few standout songs and ideas prevent me from doing so completely. I particularly enjoy “Alter Ego”—based on Robert Louis Stevenson’s Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The song’s monstrous opening riff, soft and catchy vocals in the verse, and contrasting melodies are appropriately thematic to the classic story that speaks to the light and dark inside of us all. “A Cabin in the Woods,” Sad Serenity’s version of Henry David Thoreau’s Walden, is lofty and grandiose, exploring melodies ranging from appropriately woodsy to insane and delirious with cabin fever. The end result is far removed from the simple and meditative ideals of Thoreau’s experiment.

Though several songs are elongated past their own good, I continue to be drawn in by Tiny Miracles’ literary inspiration and lyrics. The aforementioned “Alter Ego” does a fantastic job of setting the stage of its tale: “Fog’s slow creeping / Gas lantern’s glimmering / Town life’s procession still rolling in.” The lyrics also capture the emotional core of Stevenson’s story with lines like: “Caught in between incongruous natures / Paradoxal through and through / Daydreams of their separation / A Man’s not truly one, but two.” The affective pull of the lyrics is made all the more powerful by vocalist George Margaritopoulos’ delivery. Though not presenting a lot of tonal variety, Margaritopoulos shows some impressive upper range (“Torn,” “Tell the Moon”).

The other musical components of Tiny Miracles follow the path laid by the vocals: exceptional musicianship undermined by a lack of variety, which leads to a kind of outstanding sameness that makes the album hard to distinguish from moment to moment. The album has some genuine highlights, but they’re often interwoven into extended stretches that blur together. Like the literature that inspired it, this record demands full engagement from the listener. But unlike those works, it struggles to consistently reward the listener for that attention. Sometimes tangled in its own sprawl, the album will both awe and test your endurance, leaving you equal parts impressed and adrift.

Recommended tracks: Alter Ego, Cabin in the Woods, Tiny Miracles
You may also like: Headspace, Vanden Plas, Virtual Symmetry
Final verdict: 6/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Independent release

Sad Serenity is:
– Marcell Kaemmerer (guitars, keyboards, bass)
– George Margaritopoulos (vocals)
– Vinny Silva (drums)
With guests:
– Andrew Huskey (vocals)
– Lathika Vithanage (violin)
– Ellen Mross (accordion)
– Aranka Stimec (transverse flute)

1. The promo copy I received had a sticker covering most of the artist’s name, and I’m unable to otherwise determine the artist. ︎

The post Review: Sad Serenity – Tiny Miracles appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Symphonic metal, progressive metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Nightwish, Epica, Orphaned Land, Myrath, Dream Theater, Symphony X
Country: Israel
Release date: 18 July 2025

Symphonic metal takes up a lot of space. I mean that as a compliment: the genre is aurally packed wall-to-wall with sweeping orchestras, grand choral arrangements, and shredding, heavy riffs. Sure, it can be campy, corny, overwrought—but for those who like their music larger than life, symphonic metal just hits different. I fell for it hard as a tween, when I nurtured a severe Nightwish obsession that gradually bloomed into an appreciation for the genre as a whole. Years later, in 2017, I stumbled across Sands of Time, the debut full-length album by Israeli five-piece Scardust. The band’s audacious reimagination of the symphonic metal playbook earned them a spot in my rotation that has endured to this day.

Unlike scores of bands who take the approach of copying Nightwish or Epica’s homework and changing a few details so they don’t get caught (or not), Scardust have an unmistakable trademark sound. They take pride in the technical skill of each band member, weaving ample showmanship into Mediterranean-and Middle Eastern-influenced compositions that often nestle bass or guitar solos alongside sprawling orchestral and choral arrangements which are—for my money—more thoughtfully and creatively architected than most in the genre. Scardust’s ambition has never dipped, but can their third album, Souls, keep up the momentum?

Um, maybe a bit too much. Scardust’s previous albums each opened with instrumental and choral overtures that elegantly set the stage for what was to come. By contrast, the number of different musicians introduced in the opening minutes of Souls makes me think of kids on a school trip, rushing to take a group photo before they get back on the bus. The orchestra and the magniloquent Hellscore choir—directed by Scardust frontwoman Noa Gruman—are there, as expected, but the rest of the band muscles in quickly, squeezing in bass and guitar solos in under four and a half minutes. And, soaring over it all is Gruman herself, with dizzyingly acrobatic vocal manoeuvres coloured by a timbre so polished that it almost seems shellacked. It’s all happening, all at once, and the momentum doesn’t let up. By the time Souls’ third track, “RIP”, rips out of the gates with Gruman growling over frenetic backing from the band and choir, I wish the whole ensemble would simply stop and take a deep breath. Mercifully, they do. Softer interludes on this track and scattered across the album’s forty-minute runtime bring relief, but Scardust never stop giving a hundred and fifty percent.

At the heart of Scardust’s unstoppable force is Noa Gruman, whose skill as a vocalist is unquestionably dazzling. Her range spans many octaves and styles—from whistle register to growls. In particular, her harsh vocals have improved significantly since the band’s earlier albums. They’re crisp, ferocious, and impressively enunciated. However, there’s one critical lesson that Gruman appears to have not yet learned, and it’s that less is sometimes more. Just because you can hit a laser-precise E♭6, growl like a bog monster, and belt like Floor Jansen, doesn’t mean you should do all of those things in a single breath (as at the end of “My Haven”). Moments of restraint could allow her remarkable technique to feel more emotionally resonant, and give the listener space to breathe. A true frontwoman, Gruman clearly commands the spotlight, but the other band members revel in their moments of explosive flair, whether it’s Yoav Weinberg’s thrillingly athletic drumming in “Long Forgotten Song” or Aaron Friedland’s zingy keys in the opening of “Touch Of Life III – King Of Insanity”.

In Souls’ already crowded milieu, the album’s guest contributors have their work cut out for them to find space. Ally Storch of Subway to Sally adds some impressive violin gymnastics to “Searing Echoes”, but her interludes feel pasted in rather than smoothly integrated, a shame on an already bloated track. Meanwhile, Haken’s Ross Jennings struggles to go toe-to-toe with Gruman in the three-part “Touch of Life” suite that closes the album. Gruman’s vocals demand a similarly bombastic duet partner¹, but Jennings’ unique vocal tone makes for a rather lopsided pairing. Later in the suite, when he sings solo, the effect improves considerably.

Scardust’s energy and intensity are higher than ever. But is it too much? My main gripe with Souls is that the band appears to have taken a formula that was already a lot and pushed forward in places where I want them to pull back. I don’t need them to get the jump on every big moment before I expect it, to dial everything up to eleven. Still, Souls sometimes captures that mesmerizing momentum from past albums without collapsing under its own ambition. “Dazzling Darkness” builds with refreshing subtlety, and closer “Touch of Life III – King of Insanity” cleverly reprises motifs from 2017’s Sands of Time. Both tracks’ scurrying melodic modulations showcase the band at their irrepressibly catchy best.

You’ll always know a Scardust song when you hear one. In the oversaturated symphonic metal landscape, originality and daring ambition count for a lot. But Souls sees the group leaning further into maximalist tendencies which tread a fine line between awe-inspiring and overwhelming. I don’t expect Scardust to ever rein themselves in. But next time, I hope they’ll trust that giving it a hundred percent is already enough.

Recommended tracks: Dazzling Darkness, Touch Of Life III – King Of Insanity
You may also like: Master Sword, Delta
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Frontiers Music – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Scardust is:
– Noa Gruman (vocals)
– Gal Gabriel Israel (guitar)
– Aaron Friedland (keyboards)
– Orr Didi (bass)
– Yoav Weinberg (drums)
With guests:
– TLV Orchestra
– Ally Storch (violin)
– Ross Jennings (vocals)

1.  For example, Orphaned Land vocalist Kobi Farhi paired well with Gruman in his guest appearance on Sands of Time. ︎

The post Review: Scardust – Souls appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Label: Independent

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

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

Style: Power metal, progressive metal (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Stratovarius, Queensrÿche, Fates Warning
Country: Texas, United States
Release date: 27 June 2025

As any musician knows, actually writing music is only part of the album cycle. To craft a successful record, deep thought must be given to the recording process, the mixing, and the mastering, otherwise there’s a much slimmer chance of your vision truly coming to life. Texas prog metallers Transcendence were quite cognizant of this when penning their planned-for-2020 record, Nothing Etched in Stone. Intended to be a singular piece, recording and mastering issues surfaced from the constraints of the pandemic. After five years, the group has finally gotten the chance to re-record and distribute the album, with the caveat of splitting it into two parts. Does Nothing Etched in Stone, Part I etch itself into the progressive metal monolith?

Nothing Etched in Stone effuses a classic heavy metal sensibility—glimpses of Queensrÿche emerge in vocalist Brian Dixon’s timbre and in the straightforward, riff-heavy approach to songwriting. Choruses are the compositional focal point, as the surrounding sections serve as a buildup to these moments led along by the vocals. In many cases, Transcendence feels more closely aligned with power metal than it does progressive metal with its relatively compact runtimes, focus on melody over technicality, and energetic sensibilities.

The lack of showboating or complex song structures is not to say, however, that Nothing Etched in Stone is a dull or featureless listen. The vocals in particular are a standout, Dixon imbuing his performance with charisma and energy. On “Take Control”, he takes on a Timo Kotipelto-style (Stratovarius) approach full of excitement and large melodies, while “One Fear” interplays djenty grooves with brooding vocal lines. Closing ballad “Ruins… Before the Dawn” best showcases Dixon’s versatility, as he is given room to both pull back and punctuate: the harpsichord plays nicely with his varied performance, shining a light on the more delicate aspects of his voice and juxtaposing the more in-your-face lines from previous tracks with an impassioned and heartfelt atmosphere.

Ironically, though, many of the tracks in between end up falling flat precisely because of Dixon’s energy. Despite his charisma and distinctive timbre, there is a sense of homogeneity as his execution sits at a single level across almost all of Nothing Etched in Stone. “Ruins… Before the Dawn” is the central exception to this rule, indicating that Transcendence are fully capable of writing dynamic and layered pieces if they so choose to. Maintaining the excitement of the first two tracks is challenging without any variation; in the case of Nothing Etched in Stone, little room is given for more delicate, restrained passages and virtually no extra oomph is given to climaxes. As a consequence, the record is rendered a bit stale for most of its runtime.

The backing instruments don’t fare much better, often lacking the charisma or prominence of the vocals. Transcendence’s chorus-focused approach means that in many instances, the music becomes an afterthought, particularly when taking into account the overabundant mid-paced tempo comprising the bulk of the album’s runtime. The pacing is also done no favors by the relatively pointless intro track, nor is it helped by the two consecutive interludes before “Ruins”, which do little more than derail the album’s compositional arc. However, the band manage to break out of their confines on occasion, whether it be the surprising instrumental switch-up halfway through “Last Solstice”, the melodic, high-energy guitar leads on “Take Control”, or the temperamental djent grooves on “One Fear”. Additionally, “Voices in the Dark” features energetic guitarwork along with a solo which interplays nicely with the vocals, and the use of harpsichord and a bass-forward chorus on “Ruins” adds a tinge of baroque flavor. 

More so than remastering and perfecting the recording, Nothing Etched in Stone, Part I needs to be tweaked to make room for more exploration of highs and lows. Were the band to utilize more dynamics by giving space to recede in intensity or push its sound a bit further, the record would be a thoroughly enjoyable slab of chunky power-prog. Nothing Etched in Stone is evidence of Transcendence‘s potential as songwriters, especially when executing the dreaded ballad, but unfortunately, these highlights are marred by an overall homogeneous listen. Knowing that this is only half of the whole piece and pacing issues have already emerged gives me concern for the fate of the upcoming Part II, but I will remain optimistic—nothing is etched in stone, after all.

Recommended tracks: Ruins… Before the Dawn, One Fear, Take Control
You may also like: Pathosray, Conception, Enbound, Lancer
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Cosmic Fire Records – Facebook | Official Website

Transcendence is:
– Kirk Wood (bass, vocals)
– Derrek Edwards (drums)
– Jeff Ford (guitars)
– John Howser (keyboards, piano)
– Brian Dixon (vocals)

The post Review: Transcendence – Nothing Etched in Stone, Part I appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by: Dmitry Rogatnev

Style: Avant-garde Metal, Brutal Death Metal, Deathgrind, Jazz Fusion (Harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Cattle Decapitation, The Number Twelve Looks Like You, The Red Chord, Pathology
Country: Russia
Release date: 13 June 2025

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you took insanely technical deathgrind, the Cowboy Bebop soundtrack, and a smoky jazz joint on the harbor, then shot them through the musical equivalent of whatever hellish industrial-grade contraption processes chum? Me neither, but apparently ByoNoiseGenerator did. These unhinged Russians have crawled out from the briny depths of Perm Krai after seven years away, dripping seaweed and sheathed in the viscera of multitudinous aquatic horrors, bludgeoned into pulp and ready to serve via the stern and merciless hand of avant-garde deathgrind. Break out your bibs and fetch the butter—time to chow down on the band’s third LP, Subnormal Dives.

To anyone expecting the sultry and sophisticated sax-stylings of say, a Rivers of Nihil or Sleep Token, you may want to get back in your dinghy and row for the nearest opposite coastline. ByoNoiseGenerator, true to their name, are out here dropping sonic depth charges loaded to the gills with pure aural madness. Grooving slam breakdowns (“NULL.state = PERMANENT; return VOID;“), Primus-esque guitar funkery (“NoSuccessToday!”),  and skull-pulping grindcore all shoot through violent streaks of freeform jazz both manic and moody—often within the confines of the same track. For the first nine minutes,¹ ByoNoiseGenerator keep the pressure building as they cram multiple songs’ worth of ideas into tracks that nary crack the three minute mark. The band pull the listener deeper and deeper into this Subnormal Dive, gleefully assaulting our ears with a smorgasbord of hyper-processed violence perhaps only meant for the deepest of undersea dwellers.

It’s not until “LoveChargedDiveBombs” that we receive any surcease from ByoNoiseGenerator’s bio-organic brutality, with gentle radar pings, feathering drum and bass, and flickering saxophone doots creating an almost pleasant atmosphere. Denigrating chaos returns soon after via trampling blast beats and vocalist Tim’s inhuman growls, but the preceding forty-five seconds go a surprisingly long way towards letting me catch my breath before the band force me back underwater. The choice to slow things down in the song’s back half, showcases how—when it fancies them—ByoNoiseGenerator are capable of creating some rather captivating stretches of music. This characteristic defines more than a few songs across the platter (“Eb(D#),” “I’mNot20Anymore (21Ne),” “4-HO-DMTNzambiKult,”), and the band often nail the transitions in spite of the general atmosphere of mad-cap insanity and sonic whiplash that underscores their efforts.

Elsewhere and everywhere across Subnormal Dives, however, chaos reigns supreme. For twenty-three minutes, ByoNoiseGenerator toss and tumble the listener across heinous tempo and stylistic changes that would give even the most seasoned diver the bends. Songs are less-definable by any idea of coherent structure, and more by what fleeting strips of music that may qualify as identifiable (and palatable) to you. For my money, I love when the band cut away the deathgrind to revel in the smoky notes of playful saxophone and fluttering cymbal work that give Subnormal Dives its Bebop aesthetic. Whether that’s the funky drum-and-bass sections (“4-HO-DMTNzambiKult,” “deBroglieNeverExisted”) or back alley neo-noir vibes (“LoveChargedDiveBombs,” “5mgInspiredVibes”), these parts stand out as highlights of ByoNoiseGenerator’s glittering talent. For others, that satisfaction may come from the relentless grindcore butchery staining every cut.

Wherever you land, Subnormal Dives is a journey taken with the highest of caution. Even well-adjusted metalheads may struggle to decipher the band’s non-euclidean configurations, driven mad instead by ByoNoiseGenerator’s insistence on an almost blink-and-you’ll-miss-it approach to songcraft. There’s something to be said for not beating a motif, riff, etc. to death, but the opposite holds true, too. Take the scraping death metal ebb and flow at 1:38 in “IQ69Exaltations,” which serves well in hooking the listener—but just as you’re really starting to nibble, the moment is gone, a fish fry-flash in the pan, and we’re on to new flavors. Fortunately, with grindcore you’re never in for that long of a haul. Subnormal Dives’ twenty-three minutes fly by like a marlin on a mission. And when shit is this gleefully unhinged, it’s hard not to have a good time. Just… maybe don’t ask how they make the fish stix.

Recommended tracks: Eb(D#), LoveChargedDiveBombs, deBroglieNeverExisted, 5mgInspiredVibes
You may also like: Blastanus, Malignancy, DeathFuckingCunt, Diskord, Veilburner, Bloody Cumshot
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Transcending Obscurity Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

ByoNoiseGenerator is:
– M1t (bass)
– NOx (drums)
– Tim (vocals)
– HaL° (guitars)
– Sh3la (saxophone)

1.  That’s five whole tracks here. Grindcore is wild, I tell yah what. ︎

The post Review: ByoNoiseGenerator – Subnormal Dives appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Neofolk, dark folk (Clean vocals, mostly instrumental)
Recommended for fans of: Vàli, Ulver (Kveldssanger), Empyrium, Agalloch (The White EP), Nest
Country: West Virginia, United States
Release date: 9 May 2025

The book Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer is a revelation, outlining in no uncertain terms a synthesis of scientific and Native Animist thought into a singular holistic worldview. In her book, she recounts and analyzes Eastern Woodland mythos through stories from several tribes, including the Potawatomi and Haudenosaunee peoples. At their cultural nexus lies gratitude, an ethos that one reciprocates the gifts of nature through stewardship, mutual care, and the creation of art. Neofolk-turned-black-metal project Nechochwen aims to embody this gratitude on latest record spelewithiipi through a series of vignettes dedicated to the river and region of the same name¹. How does Nechochwen express their gratitude for the land that shaped them?

A carefree, pastoral air encompasses spelewithiipi’s compositions, led by guitars and occasionally embellished by flutes, hand drums, and field recordings. Many pieces encompass the dark folk spirit of Ulver’s Kveldssanger through their motif-drenched guitar work while others lean into an americana edge with twangy sliding notes, rambling melodic expositions, and playing inspired by banjo techniques. “Precipice of Stone” even tends to a Tenhi songwriting style with gloomy psychedelic soundscaping and dirging drumwork from Pohonasin; the tonality and open voice of Nechochwen’s cathartic vocalizations in the latter half lends the piece a distinct Eastern Woodland touch.

The central ethos of spelewithiipi is presented on opener “lenawe’owiin”, meaning ‘Native American way of being’². Nechochwen weaves a web of ideas shaped by personal, interpersonal, and cultural knowledge, reflecting on dreams and visions (“lenawe’owiin”, “Precipice of Stone”), locations that inspire thought on past and future (“spelewithiipi”, “mthothwathiipi”, “Great Meadows Vista”), and figures steeped in intrigue (“othaškwa’alowethi behme”, “Nemacolin’s Path”). “tpwiiwe”, or ‘one who brings truth’, is a glyph commonly inscribed on prayer sticks to give thanks to any number of beings and spirits; the track itself is intended as a sort of tpwiiwe whose symbolism is left up to the listener. The experience is particularly striking, inspiring a series of internal struggles and resolutions while reflecting on how gratitude manifests in my life. spelewithiipi’s presentation as a whole inspires an easygoing stream-of-consciousness, sauntering unhurriedly between concepts while staying tethered to its central tenets like stories told around a campfire with friends.

spelewithiipi’s pieces go through similarly relaxed trajectories, morphing internally within sections and starting anew once an idea has reached its end. Many tracks end up surprisingly oblique in their structure despite the simplicity of the compositions, requiring some patience and effort to get a hold of their fuzzy sensibilities. “spelewithiipi”, for example, dreamily captures glimpses of a single location, gently exploring its river banks before moving on to a scene from another time. “tpwiiwe” and “mthothwathiipi” guide the listener in similar form through a subtle and suggestive evolution of balmy picked acoustics. The approach begins to fall apart a bit, however, on closing tracks “Nemacolin’s Path” and “Primordial Passage”. The former embodies the spirit of Chief Nemacolin, renowned for his remarkable skills as a guide and navigator through forest landscapes; the latter internalizes the mix of excitement and wistfulness that comes with leaving your homeland and being the first to explore a new place. Both gently reprise melodies from their opening sections, but the pieces meander a bit too liberally, missing ideas that give a sense of direction.

Thematically, this nonchalant approach is relaxing and soothing, but it bears additional challenges when looking at spelewithiipi’s songwriting narrative. Plenty of variation is offered in length and structure: some tracks are internally complete, and some are more nebulous. Overall, though, there is an underlying sense of heterogeneity that prevents the pieces from coalescing as wholly as the ideas behind them. The drumwork on “lenawe’owiin”, for example, feels like it’s building to something more intense that never comes, giving a sense of incompleteness when the record suddenly moves on to another idea. Additionally, “othaškwa’alowethi behme” is a mysterious and somewhat foreboding interlude with nice soundscaping, but it feels a bit jarring in its placement after “tpwiiwe”, one of spelewithiipi’s more tranquil and delicate moments.

In trying to ford spelewithiipi’s forests, I realize I simply don’t have the same navigational acuity as Nemacolin. Swelling with beauty, metaphor, and gratitude, the record vividly explores a multi-faceted relationship with land, culture, and self, but without the context behind the pieces, the compositions can sometimes struggle to bear the weight of their meaning. Regardless, spelewithiipi offers ample food for thought under its delicate structure and free-flowing approach, inspiring a closer examination of the land that surrounds us and our relationship to it.

Recommended tracks: tpwiiwe, mthothwathiipi, Precipice of Stone
You may also like: Ulvesang, October Falls, Liljevars Brann, Wÿntër Ärvń, Sangre de Muérdago
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Nordvis Produktion – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Nechochwen is:
– Nechochwen (guitars, flute, hand drums, vocals)
– Pohonasin (bass, drums)

1. Spelewithiipi is the Shawnee name for the Ohio River, but specifically the area surrounding Ohio and West Virginia. ︎
2. The language is not specified, but the blurb related to this track on Nechochwen’s Bandcamp calls out the loyalhanna hotewe, implying the word likely comes from that group. ︎

The post Review: Nechochwen – spelewithiipi appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: post-metal, sludge metal, shoegaze, noise rock, stoner rock, post-hardcore (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of:  Parannoul, Asian Glow, Neurosis, Boris
Country: South Korea
Release date: 15 May 2025

Modern medicine is amazing. People have lived well over a year with an artificial heart, and doctors can perform entire heart transplants. Alas, the human being still needs a heart, be it a machine or originally somebody else’s, and a person would wither and die almost instantly without the blood-pumping organ. South Korea’s Baan have a mission: rip out the still-beating heart from four genres and try to keep the result alive for sixty minutes. According to their Bandcamp, Baan aim to be “Doom but not boring / Screamo but not crying / Hardcore but not macho / Shoegaze but not sucks.” Dodging all four of those pitfalls while playing those genres is gonna require a musical miracle to occur on Neumann. Do Baan achieve what doctors cannot?

Let’s proceed one by one. Neumann certainly avoids the crying part of screamo by not being screamo beyond some halfheartedly shouted harsh vocals; the record also contains some amateur cleanly sung, crowd-chant adjacent cleans. Both vocal styles are completely obliterated by the mix to the point of being nearly inaudible—they may have recorded them from across the street—rendering them a strident nuisance. Similar to the self-described “screamo” aspect of Baan’s sound, the macho part of hardcore, by virtue of mostly avoiding true punkiness, is eschewed by Baan. Those two soul-of-the-genre omissions are cheating, though, and Neumann is really post-y, noisy, atmospheric sludge metal, with the atmospheric part coming from shoegaze and stoner rock influence.

Thankfully, the doom metal (read: sludge and post- metal) parts are not boring, and the shoegaze aspect don’t sucks [sic]! Fuzzed out guitars and Baan’s love of noisy amplifiers drive Neumann, and the South Korean band have a keen ear for melody and rhythm, with wistful yet hard-hitting guitar parts and dynamic, Mastodon-esque drumming. “Birdperson 새사람” has the first shoegaze part around 3:40 with airy guitars above pummeling double bass, but it’s not until the second track “Early Bird Dies Fast” where Baan hit their stride, the spacey trem picking of the simultaneously woolly yet shimmery guitars playing a beautiful tune—almost nostalgic in tone, as if Astronoid wrote stoner doom. The strongest asset in the band’s arsenal, however, is their weaponization of noise, with exemplary moments like the middle breakdown of “Sing a Brave Song 2 씩씩한 노래를 불러라 2” and the sludgy violence of “Reversal of a Man.” The bass playing is also killer, but unfortunately it almost never makes an appearance with the exception of “Sing a Brave Song 1 씩씩한 노래를 불러라 1” where it gets significant time leading. 

Despite the strength of the riffs and drumming, the album wears itself thin within forty minutes, the schtick played out. By the end of the three-part “Sing a Brave Song 씩씩한 노래를 불러라,” I’m snoozing at the prospect of more Baan, and the boring track “Not Yet” contributes nothing that previous songs like “Histrionic” hadn’t done better. Moreover, the closer, “Oldman 헌사람,” plays into a tedious atmospheric intro that lasts for several minutes before recapping with uninspired shoegaze vocals from Asian Glow; so, I’m forced to admit that while the shoegaze instrumental sections don’t sucks, the shoegaze vocals sucks. Baan clearly had fun tinkering with their amplifiers and jamming out—at the expense of a more concise, better album. 

South Korea is truly a hotbed for noisy, homemade shoegaze recently (Parannoul, Asian Glow, Huremic), and Baan have certainly made a name for themselves with the release of Neumann. Their mix of energetic, growly, and fuzzy guitar tones with passionate and delicate melodies contributes something new to their scene. The band just needs an editor and a better singer. But fans of everything from post-metal to punk will find something to enjoy in Neumann—I certainly did.

Recommended tracks: Early Bird Dies Fast, Histrionic, Sing a Brave Song 1-3 씩씩한 노래를 불러라 1-3
You may also like: Meth., The Angelic Process, Glassing, Huremic, Sadness
Final verdict: 6/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Instagram

Label: independent

Baan is:
반재현 [Baan Jae-hyun]
김진규 [Kim Jin-gyu aka April 28th]
이성재 [Lee Seong-jae]
장진웅 [Jang Jin-ung]

The post Review: Baan – Neumann appeared first on The Progressive Subway.