Style: jazz fusion (instrumental)
Recommended for fans of: Dave Brubeck, Tony Levin, later era Cynic, The Omnific
Country: Netherlands
Release date: 6 June 2025

Just like any prog metal fan worth their salt knows Dream Theater’s Metropolis Pt. 2: Scenes from a Memory, Dave Brubeck Quartet’s Time Out is an essential jazz recording—heck, it’s the first jazz album to sell a million copies. Yet despite the fame, Time Out was still theoretically revolutionary, its experimentation with varied time signatures permanently altering the face of jazz. The odd segmentation of the 9/8 time signature of “Blue Rondo a la Turk” and the now classic 5/4 swing of “Take Five” may sound commonplace today, but in the 50s? Wild stuff. Dutch guitarist, bassist, and sitarist Barend Tromp¹ takes a page out of Brubeck’s 60+ year old book, his new album Odd Time Concepts revolving around, well, odd meters, strange time signatures, and wonky rhythms. 

Time Out’s greatest strength is that you would never know it’s in “unusual” (for the era) time signatures; at the record’s core is whimsical jazz explorations that still sound undated, full of masterful songwriting. On the other hand, Odd Time Concepts goes awry at that central tenet of writing good songs, with Tromp and his guests opting for fashion over form, resulting in a record more gimmicky than musically worthwhile.

As the record is so focused on time signatures, the rhythm section is the main draw, with the bass taking on the majority of the leads (fretless and fretted) and emphasis is placed on the drumming parts, including a feature from King Crimson alum Pat Mastelotto. The resulting sound on Odd Time Concepts mixes the blubbery bass of The Omnific, the mind-warping instrumental interplay of Planet X, and the aimless songwriting of Panzerballett and Quadvium. Tromp is a killer bassist technically, that much is clear. After a dreamy, breathy (read: flatulent) fretless intro to “Sitharsis,” a driving riff by the fretted takes over, nice and thumpy. His slapping on “Heavy Slap” isn’t nearly as funky as I’d have expected, disappointingly lethargic; the expansive, subaudible tone isn’t a favorite either, sounding too rounded without enough grit on the lower end. Moreover, while the bass riffs themselves are varied—as are the ways they interact with the keyboards, synths, and guitars—by tracks like “Thirteen” (in 13/8) in the back half of the album, the up-and-down, punchy playing of Tromp is predictable. 

Although focusing more on messing around with time signature than on interesting melodies, the guitar playing shows flashes of songwriting competence that the rest of the album lacks. The playing on “Chromatron (Parts 1-3)” has the melody decay throughout the short track, and “Thirteen” has a killer fusion solo reminiscent of Planet X or Exivious. The rhythm in “Pandrah Ka Yantra” is annoyingly distracting, but Tromp’s guitar playing matches his sitar in an intriguing pattern.

Speaking of the sitar, non-Western instrumentation is a recurrent theme across Odd Time Concepts, which works surprisingly well for the record—but is frustratingly underutilized, leading it to come across as yet another gimmick. “Sitharsis” and “Pandrah Ka Yantra” both have banging sitar parts, interwoven well within the jazz. Sticking within South Asia, “Heavy Slap” has a random tabla, although that isn’t employed as naturally as the sitar. Finally, moving a bit to the East, and “Gamelan Sepuluh” features a strong Gamelan melodic theme, a decidedly successful exploration into the sound. However, their inclusion makes Odd Time Concepts all the more frustrating as the record abandons its good ideas and sticks with the worse ones. For instance, the synths which populate many tracks either sound like they’re from a Halloween soundtrack (“Madhuvanti”) or are full of reverb. For some reason, though, Barend Tromp has his mind absolutely set on implementing dub² throughout the album, more than the sitar even. That experiment, unlike his South (-east) Asian explorations, doesn’t work well, the electronic effects at odds with the more traditional, human-centric jazz fusion. 

Odd Time Concepts sticks with lame gimmicks while leaving its best ideas out in the sun to be forgotten; the record is ostensibly rhythmically focused, yet its highlights are in the guitar and sitar leads. Barend Tromp and his troupe are talented jazz musicians, but they need to step back and look at the masters like Dave Brubeck to escape the shadow of the gimmick. Odd Time Concepts alone do not make an album.

Recommended tracks: Sitharsis, Chromatron (Parts 1-3), Pandrah Ka Yantra
You may also like: Panzerballett, Coevality, Soften the Glare, Planet X, Quadvium
Final verdict: 4/10

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

Label: independent

Barend Tromp is:
– Barend Tromp – fretted and fretless basses, fretted and fretless guitars, sitar and synths
With guests:
– Trey Gunn – Warr guitar solo on 5
– Pat Mastelotto – drums on 8
– Ron van Stratum – drums on 2 & 10
– Nathan van de Wouw – drums on 1 & 6
– Eugene Vugts – drums on 4

1. Yes, we all read it as Barron Trump first at the blog and were surprised he played jazz. This is NOT Barron Trump, though, rest assured. ︎
2. For context, dub is typically an instrumental form of reggae focused on studio effects like reverb and delay. ︎

The post Review: Barend Tromp – Odd Time Concepts appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal, post-metal (mixed vocals, mostly clean)
Recommended for fans of: Early Leprous, The Ocean, Mogwai
Country: Netherlands
Release date: 4 April 2025

A handful of phrasings and a trail of misattributions surround one extraordinarily metal writing concept: you have to be willing to kill your darlings. Those beautiful sentences you’ve crafted, in perfect prose, that end up adding no value to your piece? Kill them. That concept you fleshed out in a rigorously detailed paragraph, only to realize it doesn’t serve the narrative? Drop the axe. The unnecessary, dramatic list of examples when a simple explanation would have done? You gotta ki… wait!

Whether literary or musical, we have a hard time doing away with our creative expressions, even if they no longer serve a purpose once given context. Imagine being a young band, having spent years putting your ideas into music, piecing components together into songs, and rehearsing them till they become part of your being. As you all progress as songwriters and musicians, and finally begin forming an album, could you do away with those precious ideas that don’t quite fit anymore? Do you kill your darlings, or look desperately for a way to keep them?

Well, you know where I’m going with this: let’s turn to We Are Solitude, the debut album of progressive post-metallers Inner Cabala. Although I don’t have a way into their collective psyche, Inner Cabala appear to have a hard time letting go. We Are Solitude is an eclectic mix of tracks sounding of slightly subdued, modern progressive metal and relatively light post-metal—like the less boisterous child of Bilateral-era Leprous and The Ocean. Except, the child is having a bit of trouble growing up and finding its personality. 

Amidst this search for itself, We Are Solitude is most effective at its simplest. In a concise four minutes, standout track “Feathers” flows cogently from a catchy, winding intro riff to a punchy verse, and then into an energetic chorus. After a couple of repetitions, a seamless bridge leads naturally to a massive breakdown that ends the track. Bravo! This streamlined approach works well for Inner Cabala, who have a strong knack for melody and riff writing. “Hollow” follows a similar pattern, featuring a two-part chorus that, in addition to being a total earworm, is written excellently—the perfect mix of pop sensibilities and progressive instrumentation. But the track’s momentum is stopped dead by an acoustic bridge slapped right in the center without warning. The bridge isn’t especially interesting, and it doesn’t serve a broader compositional purpose; as with many passages, it sounds like something the band just couldn’t quite bring themselves to scrap. 

Although the tracks are dynamic, they often fail to build tension that leads to a cathartic payoff or steadily intensify an idea until a tidal wave of sound has formed—staples of well executed post-metal. Typically, a disconnected soft part is followed by a disconnected heavy or fast part, giving a gas-brake feel rather than a smooth oscillation among peaks and valleys. “Of Time Rejoiced” is the worst offender, full of interesting ideas welded haphazardly into a track that jerks the listener around with passages that may as well be from different songs entirely. To be sure, We Are Solitude does hold flashes of brilliance. In the last minute and a half of “Semblance,” a layered, emotional refrain is accentuated by a somber but infectious guitar melody, showcasing the best of Inner Cabala’s post- aspects. And the entire second half of the closer “Mediocrity Divides II” is a proggy trip through big, sludgy riffs that ultimately resolve with a nod to the album’s opening track, bringing We Are Solitude full circle. But both of these tracks suffer from upfront bloat—the former spending far too long plodding toward its resolution, and the latter having acoustic portions that bring it to a standstill rather than lead toward the climactic ending.

With its numerous stripped-back, softer passages, We Are Solitude leans heavily on the vocal performance to fill open space and provide emotional lift. However, perhaps to mask some limitations in ability, a fuzz covers the vocals through the entire album, eschewing a natural feel and instead providing a compressed, processed one. This incessant vocal effect grows tedious quickly, and the album’s heartfelt sections suffer the most, as a slightly distorted rasp covers movements where an organic voice is sorely needed. “Crippled Reality,” primarily a ballad that feels disconnected from the rest of the album to begin with, is a particularly tough listen for this reason, but every track would benefit greatly from more natural vocals. 

Ultimately, We Are Solitude rings of a band clutching their nascent ideas too tightly, forcing the ideas together rather than evaluating whether each still has a place. Fortunately, many of the ideas are quite good, and Inner Cabala clearly have an ear for melody and the ability to write engaging, interesting prog—the album is enjoyable enough, even if its best moments are hamstrung by a lack of organization, too many lesser passages, and ineffective vocals. The foundation of a strong album is here, and Inner Cabala appear capable of delivering something that holds its own among their more mature progressive metal peers. So, please, kill those darlings next time and you might be left with something special.

Recommended tracks: Feathers, Hollow, Mediocrity Divides II
You may also like: Kingcrow, Rendezvous Point, Hippotraktor
Final verdict: 5/10

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

Label: Independent

Inner Cabala is:
– Pim Limburg (vocals)
– Alexandru Daniel Taun (guitars)
– Razvan “Sid” Poinaru (bass)
– Carlo Belloni (drums)
– Alessandro Zanchetta (guitars)

The post Review: Inner Cabala – We Are Solitude appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: avant-garde black metal, progressive black metal, dissonant black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Thy Catafalque, Oranssi Pazuzu, Enslaved, Blut Aus Nord, Imperial Triumphant
Country: Netherlands
Release date: 28 March 2025

I know lots of music, literature, and visual art. I know plenty of music inspired by literature; literature inspired by art; visual art inspired by music; well all six combinations, you get it. Grey Aura’s Zwart Vierkant albums—Slotstuk is the follow-up and conceptual sequel to their 2021 album—are the first album I’ve ever heard based on a book that’s based on artwork. Slotstuk follows the second half of Ruben Wijlacker’s novel De Protodood in Zwarte Haren, in which our main character Pablo is seduced by the world of Supremist art—he follows his obsession by unveiling the void as his artwork, representative of the death of the physical realm. The concept is intense, inspired by the freakiest of the Modernists, and Grey Aura certainly have the appropriate style of music to back it up. So the question remains: is the music good enough to make me succumb to the void?

Grey Aura’s style on Zwart Vierkant: Slotstuk is intense, heady, and thrilling avant-garde black metal similar to their Hungarian peers Thy Catafalque. On each non-interlude track (there are three primarily Spanish guitar interludes), Grey Aura begin with a heavy riff centered around some warped idea of a melody, using varied and punishing drumming to force the track forward at a brisk march. Rhythmically alternating between a manic groove I don’t know whether to headbang or bust a move to and voracious blast beats, Slotstuk doesn’t stay still and proves Seth van de Loo to be one of the most promising percussionists in the scene. The guitars push back against the direct attack of the rhythm, lapping around each other in increasingly complicated circles, skirting around the melody, until they’ve nowhere left to go; in these moments, the music collapses in on itself, overwhelmed by the noise (my favorite example is only a minute into the album on “Daken als Kiezen”). Exhausting but satisfying, the constantly tense songwriting and dizzying riffs are an incredible tool to build tracks around. Grey Aura display an uncanny ability to shove full-fledged crescendos into only a minute or so of time.

Backing up the prominent guitar and drum parts is a small cast of different instruments. What stood out to me on 2021’s Zwart Vierkant was Grey Aura’s use of rather eclectic instrumentation, from a range of percussion styles to horns and acoustic guitars. All of these remain on Slotstuk but in subdued fashion; the result is a potentially less gimmicky sound. However, as much as gimmicks don’t necessarily make for good songwriting, Slotstuk is a tad less interesting. It’s a shame only the shorter tracks like “Nachten Zonder Dagen” have trombone and tuba because—let’s be honest—who doesn’t want those prominent on their avant-black album? Like the prior installment in the album duology, Sylwin Cornielje’s bass is produced fantastically and is the stitch keeping the self-fraying music together. Amidst the chaos, the chunky and often contrapuntal bass lines are all one can track to keep oneself sane, like on “De Ideologische Seance” or the brutal “Waarin de Dood Haar Kust.”

Clearly, Slotstuk is not for the faint-hearted—potent and harsh even in small doses. Ruben Wijlacker’s vocals make the already hard-to-approach album all the more difficult to appreciate. When I visited our blog’s glorious founder Sam in Amsterdam last, he yelled at me in Dutch to the effect of ‘turn that nonsense off’ when I put on my favorite comfort music, Imperial Triumphant. Well, being screamed at in German is scary; being screamed at in Dutch is just sort of confusing, albeit intriguing. This is precisely what Grey Aura’s vocals are, and I don’t really know if it works because they’re neither manic enough (something like Le Grand Guignol) nor varied enough (Thy Catafalque) for the style. Wijlacker’s vocals aren’t as impressive as the instrumentation around him.  

Just like his unceasingly shouting vocal style, the music can be too intimidating for its own good. Grey Aura play with dynamics—I mentioned their mini crescendoes—and they certainly have the cutesy little interludes, but Slotstuk is constantly a bit too overwhelmingly dense. For instance, while the blast beats are admirably metronomic, I find van de Loo’s usage of extremely intricate, almost danceable grooves far more intriguing. Moreover, the grooves don’t sacrifice heaviness but transfer the massive amounts of energy Grey Aura store into a more inspired package—when they’re focused on blast beats, they sound much more like a standard dissoblack bands than when the drumming and percussion is more varied.

Zwart Vierkant: Slotstuk can be as dense as a black hole and took many, many listens for me to grapple with its contents, and in that regard, it is an overwhelming success. It tears apart its own reality and internal logic as each song grows until the inevitable crumpling. The black void box is real. Although they de-emphasized several of Zwart Vierkant’s best elements, Slotstuk is a fitting conclusion to the saga of Pablo our painter, and I think I may have been driven mad trying to review this. As intended.

Recommended tracks: Daken als Kiezen, Een Uithangbord van Wanhoop, Waarin de Dood Haar Kust, Slotstuk
You may also like: Dystopia, Am I in Trouble?, Dødheimsgard, Arcturus, Hail Spirit Noir, Haar, Sigh, Schammasch, Skythala, Thantifaxath, Convulsing, Veilburner, Ὁπλίτης
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Avantgarde Music – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Ruben Wijlacker – Vocals, electric guitar, acoustic guitar, synthesizer
Tjebbe Broek – Electric guitar, acoustic guitar, Spanish guitar
Sylwin Cornielje – Bass
Seth van de Loo – Drums, percussion

Ruben Schmidt – Cello
Alberto Pérez Jurado – Tuba, Trombone

The post Review: Grey Aura – Zwart Vierkant: Slotstuk appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Thrash metal, progressive metal, black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Vektor, Coroner, Hellripper, Warbringer
Country: Netherlands
Release date: 7 March 2025

After splitting an EP with progressive thrash legends Vektor, Cryptosis burst onto the scene in 2021 with its debut full-length effort, Bionic Swarm.¹ The album unleashed thirty-seven minutes of balls-to-the-wall, technical thrash. There were some hints of the band’s status as relative neophytes—Bionic Swarm felt a little one-speed, lacking versatility in composition and staying within a narrow sonic range—but on the whole, Cryptosis had wrought a distinctive sound and positioned itself among the genre’s upper echelon. 

Having enjoyed the debut and believing that its sound still had plenty of room to develop, I made a mental note to keep an eye out for the band’s next release. I then totally missed a 2023 EP,² confirming that mental notes are useless, and stumbled upon Cryptosis again recently after news of Celestial Death, the band’s sophomore LP. My personal wishlist for the release (perhaps not a fair thing to impose) centered on expanded songwriting: I wanted rhythmic variety, more texture or atmosphere, and further exploration in song structure—essentially, some compositional meat on those tech-thrash bones. Although the debut was rock solid, I felt Cryptosis was capable of something more epic. Would Celestial Death avoid the dreaded sophomore slump and deliver?

After an obligatory opening minute of instrumental ambiance,³ Cryptosis launches into “Faceless Matter” with the same frenetic style as the last album—except within about thirty seconds it’s apparent that the band has turned the volume up on the mellotron and synth and leaned heavily into atmospherics. The sound is overtly blackened, with some combination of synth, mellotron, and choral effects featured prominently, even taking a lead role in the verse. Minutes later, the band slows things down in a short bridge, followed by a melodic guitar lead soaring over thrashy drumming. Everything is recognizably Cryptosis, but the sound is larger and more dynamic than before—it seems the wishes on my list are being granted.

Celestial Death’s biggest evolution comes in how heavily black metal is woven throughout. “Static Horizon” and “The Silent Call” are just as black as they are thrash, featuring brooding atmospheric passages and biting tremolo riffs—and “Absent Presence” might not be categorizable as thrash at all, with sections drenched in something bordering on ambient black metal. Meanwhile, much of “Ascending,” a standout track, wouldn’t be too out of place on a middle-era Enslaved record, and an instrumental track closes the album with a melodic-black feel. This massive infusion of black metal only hinted at in Bionic Swarm is executed well and broadens Celestial Death’s sonic scope tremendously. 

But fans of Cryptosis’s brand of thrash fear not: you can put on that old sleeveless band tee and battle jacket. “Reign of Infinite” and “In Between Realities” bring as much energy as the debut album, as does the especially techy “Cryptosphere.” And there’s no shortage of fiery riffing amidst the darker, synth and mellotron-led passages—even if the guitars rely more on tremolos this time around. The bass continues to punch with sharp licks, the raspy vocals continue to growl through expectedly sci-fi lyrics, and the drums continue to rip. The drumming on “Ascending” is particularly slick, quickly trading off between the hi-hat and ride in a way that complements the guitar’s melodic tremolo picking and delivering nasty fills every few bars. While Celestial Death is more atmospheric and better-paced than its predecessor, it’s still an incredibly aggressive record.

Celestial Death, however, doesn’t quite have the matching shift in production to fit Cryptosis’s stylistic expansion. Like Bionic Swarm, every instrument is loud and pushed toward the front, a technique that better fits the rawer debut. To be sure, Celestial Death still sounds clear and powerful; it can be just a little loud and overwhelming in sections where each instrument is playing full bore. Otherwise, there’s not much to nit-pick here—the album might not offer anything truly transcendent, and like much thrash, the vocals can be a tad repetitive in tone and delivery, particularly during choruses (“Cryptosphere” as an example). A touch of vocal variety would have helped expand the band’s sound that extra bit further. 

In the four years intervening between Cryptosis’s rookie and sophomore efforts, the band has matured, channeling its exuberance into a product with greater compositional and sonic depth. Many feel that modern thrash lacks intrigue, and Celestial Death injects the genre with a blackened tech variety that’s robust enough to rise above most of the scene. And still, I’d bet on Cryptosis continuing on an upward trajectory and delivering something even more ambitious next release. Rather than leave it to a mental note, I’ll write it down this time: Cryptosis is one to continue to watch.

Recommended tracks: Ascending, Reign of Infinite, In Between Realities
You may also like: Demoniac, Paranorm, VENUS
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

Label: Century Media Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Cryptosis is:
– Frank te Riet (bass, mellotron, synthesizers, backing vocals)
– Marco Prij (drums)
– Laurens Houvast (vocals, guitars, spoken words)

1. Although Bionic Swarm was Cryptosis’s debut LP, the same three members had released two albums without much fanfare as a self-described old-school thrash act named Distillator. After drifting away from typical thrash and honing its own style, the band changed its name and, shortly after signing with Century Media Records, released Bionic Swarm as the first full-length album of a new band.  ︎
2. After listening to this EP recently, it turns out I didn’t miss too much: two new tracks, and two live ones. The first new track, “The Silent Call,” did signal the band’s heavier shift into black metal discussed below, and a version of it appears on the new album. ︎
3. Every thrash or tech album I’ve reviewed in the last couple of months—those by Exuvial, Synaptic, HARP, and now Cryptosis—has begun this way, as do too many others. It’s not an offensive way to start an album and provides something to walk out to at live performances, but in my opinion it rarely adds any value and has become trite. In my world as a corporate schlub, it’s the equivalent of an email that begins with the phrase: “I hope this email finds you well.” ︎

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

Style: Industrial Metal, Breakcore, Black Metal, Doom Metal (mostly harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Bongripper, Om, Author & Punisher, Igorrr
Country: Netherlands
Release date: 21 February 2025

I’ve only been writing for The Progressive Subway for about two months now, but I fear it has already irreparably altered my taste in music in some ways. For example, when an artist describes their own work as “dissonant”, I have PTSD flashbacks to a few weeks ago, when Andy asked me to check out Gorguts‘ Obscura for the first time. Bong-Ra‘s latest LP, Black Noise, is downright pleasant in comparison.

Bong-Ra is one of many projects from the mind of Jason Köhnen (Celestial Season, The Answer Lies in the Black Void, The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble, etc.). If you’re interested in exploring the territory where metal and electronic music overlap, a stroll through Bong-Ra‘s back catalog is an excellent introduction. Black Noise is not the first metal-electronic fusion album from Bong-Ra, but it is the best example of where that balance is shifted in favour of fans of black or industrial metal, as opposed to breakcore and raggacore (Warrior Sound, Monolith) or drone metal (Antediluvian, Meditations).

Black Noise is largely a work of industrial metal with a tasteful infusion of electronic instrumentation. On the opening track “Dystopic”, trudging guitars occasionally glitch, and you’re reminded every so often that the drums are programmed as the track flows into and out of breakcore sections. At times, Köhnen hearkens back to his earlier, more atmospheric oeuvre, like on “Bloodclot”, a sparse track with a throbbing bassline reminiscent of a pulse. “Parasites”, another memorable work, is notable primarily for its prominent sampling of wet, writhing, wriggling creatures; partway through “Parasites”, those squidgy, slimy samples are timed to align with the bass drum, making it sound like a band trying to play their way out of a pit full of worms and leeches.

But Black Noise is not a particularly memorable album on the whole. When I introduce someone to a new band, I can tell they’re not really open to giving it a chance when the main criticism they have is “all of the songs sound the same”. I think that’s usually a cop-out, and what they really mean is “I listened to the album and didn’t pay attention because I didn’t care all that much, so I don’t remember the differences between the tracks”. But friends, I have listened to Black Noise upward of a dozen times now and I can tell you with certainty: most of the songs on this album sound the same.

The first three tracks – “Dystopic”, “Death#2”, and “Nothing Virus” – are nearly identical sonically. The same monotone growling vocals, the same distorted guitar tone, the same mechanical ambiance. Sure, the lyrics are different track to track, but on individual tracks they’re so repetitive as to be almost mantric. Each of these songs has a choppy delivery: short one-to-three word phrases repeated over and over. The entirety of the lyrics¹ for “Dystopic”, for example, are

• “Echoes void.”
• “Shattered dreams fade.”
• “Cold eyes.”
• “Lifeless.”
• “Dystopic.”
• “Endless decay.”
• “Silent machine hums.”

Take those seven phrases and repeat them a handful of times (with interspersed grunts and yells for flavour) in whatever order you like and you’ve got yourself a song. You can do the same for “Death#2”² with

• “Static fills my…”
• “…numb, cold skin.”
• “Pulse fades.”
• “Heavy, slow breath.”
• “Death in silence.”
• “Shadows take hold.”
• “Life fades away.”

“Nothing Virus” is a bit more varied lyrically, but it still maintains this two-to-three word phrasing in the vocals. If someone heard these three songs from Bong-Ra, they would be more than justified in thinking that “all their songs sound the same”. The fourth track, “Useless Eaters”, finally breaks this pattern by containing no lyrics whatsoever – just many samples of Charles Manson rants. (Never did I think I would be so thankful for Charles Manson.) Not until the seventh track of the album, “Ruins”, do we finally get some variety in the vocals; this and the unsettling “Parasites” both feature some clean vocals in addition to the harsh ones. But don’t worry, the choppy phrasing is present in the clean vocals, as well. “Dystopic” is a great track, but I don’t need that same track slightly reworked in five different ways on the same album—give me some variety, man.

Jason Köhnen’s Bong-Ra has evolved significantly over the past three decades, and Black Noise is a step in a new direction: heavier than his previous fusion work and more digestible than his previous metal work. But Black Noise is not a masterpiece by any stretch of the imagination. Cutting out the forgettable “Death#2”, “Nothing Virus”, “Black Rainbow”, and “…Blissful Ignorance”, Black Noise could have been a decent five-track EP; but as-is, there’s too much filler, not enough killer. With his jump from avant-drone metal to industrial, Köhnen seems to have not yet found his niche in the metal world. To develop a more consistent fanbase, Bong-Ra need to deliver more consistently, both in terms of style and quality.

Recommended tracks: Parasites, Bloodclot, Dystopic
You may also like: DJ Skull Vomit, Intensive Care, Celestial Season
Final verdict: 4.5/10

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

Label: Debemur Morti Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Bong-Ra is:
– Jason Köhnen (everything)
– Attila Kovacs (touring guitarist)
– Botond Fogl (touring guitarist)

1. Transcribed by the author and therefore possibly incorrect. ︎
2. Unintelligible lyrics at 2:36 and 3:38. ︎

The post Review: Bong-Ra – Black Noise appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal, djent (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Karnivool, Tesseract, Ions
Country: Netherlands
Release date: 2 February 2025

Here at The Progressive Subway, we find music in all sorts of ways. Plenty of bands email us promos for review, but others we find languishing in corners of the internet untrodden by most. And sometimes Sam is practicing with his theater group and hears a proggy band recording in the adjacent studio. Yes, our Dutch founder was out with his vegan mime troupe when he first heard the skronky riffs of a 7-string next door that drew him to go talk to the boys from Hologram Earth. Naturally, he urged them to send us a promo, which Thomas duly did; I wonder if his bandmate Stephen told him, “Oh wait, I totally emailed that website last week,” because he had—and I’d already picked the promo up to review. See, I could’ve mythologised the encounter, but I chose to give you the unvarnished truth instead. That’s the Subway guarantee: absolutely no fun allowed. 

Hologram Earth’s style cycles through a variety of influences: heavier djent riffs and post-metal crescendos come to the fore often, but the foundational complexity pulls more from the tradition of Karnivool. There are Tesseractian atmospheres aplenty, but when the band veer into more virtuosic territory, Haken and Between the Buried and Me are brought to mind. While these comparisons are apt at times, the overall work is hard to compare; City of Gold offers some unique ideas, as well as some unique flaws. 

Indeed, City of Gold is gilded less with the old prospector’s folly than it is with brass. Bassist Thomas Cochrane also provides trumpet work which adorns most tracks, whether it’s the lamenting horns at the outro of “Solum”, the gorgeous swells in the contemplative interlude of “Clouds”, or the utterly rhapsodic work on “Home”, his blowing proves a bold unique selling point and goes a long way to defining Hologram Earth against other bands. Meanwhile, the bass has a vital sense of attack and the guitar work of Heijs and Hulshof frequently delivers outstanding moments; however, Luuk van der Velden’s drumming may well be the album’s best performance—pounding his way across the kit, working his way through skronky polyrhythms, and yet able to turn on the subtlety during softer sections. 

As should be clear, there are a lot of elements in play, and what impresses most is the degree to which Hologram Earth manage to make a style that draws on so many disparate sounds feel contiguous. A single track might sojourn through post-metal languorousness, thundering djent, a horn section, masturbatory soloing, and much more, as well as about three different vocal styles, and still feel logical in its progression. Such versatility yields many a standout moment: the blast-beat laden climax of “Clouds”, the bass solo on the unexpectedly punky “Wither” or the extended Pink Floyd-esque solo on “Home”. Should ‘punky’, ‘blast-beat’ and ‘Pink Floyd’ be terms used in the same review? Who knows, but here they are, and they’re—somehow—not contradictory.

However, Hologram Earth aren’t beyond fault, and their most significant is, unfortunately, vocalist Michiel Meurs. Despite a strong baritone, his output can be rather variable both in pitch and in quality. His cleans belt out strongly but more than a little warbling and can seem a little disconnected in the mix—a dash of Melodyne would do him the world of good; his stoner metal shouts, meanwhile, sit awkwardly over the more contemplative prog tones on offer. And yet, some moments really work, particularly the breathiness of the delivery he uses at around 1:20 in “Clouds”, and the raw emotion captured in the belting finale of “Home”. Meurs isn’t always helped by the production, another facet handled by Cochrane. He has a good ear for his own contributions—the bass lovingly clear and the trumpet sleek in the mix—but his talent doesn’t quite extend to sanding down the harsher edges: the hiss of cymbal hits and the rather dry tone of the guitars. Hologram Earth’s compositions have an inherent sense of drama but the production doesn’t provide the requisite sense of cinema to do them justice. 

City of Gold closes with their best work, “Home”, an eleven minute epic which runs through Car Bomb-like djent, an extended Gilmourian guitar solo, and a rapturous horn section. It’s testament to Hologram Earth’s infectious moxie that one can identify issues with their work and still be wowed. There are, after all, such things as good problems to have; things to work on, goals to aim for, continual improvement and renewal. Better yet, the virtues they demonstrate on this debut show that they absolutely have what it takes to overcome these fairly minor problems. El Dorado beckons. 

Recommended tracks: Solum, Clouds, Home
You may also like: Sermon, Inhalo, Sentryturn
Final verdict: 6.5/10

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

Label: Independent

Hologram Earth is:
– Michiel Meurs (vocals)
– Luuk van der Velden (drums)
– Bram Heijs (guitar)
– Steven Hulshof (guitar)
– Thomas Cochrane (bass, trumpet, trombone, flugelhorn)

The post Review: Hologram Earth – City of Gold appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Symphonic metal, progressive metal, power metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Therion, Haggard, Agrippa’s occult philosophy, Fleshgod Apocalypse, the works of Albertus Magnus, Rhapsody of Fire
Review by: Francesco
Country: Netherlands
Release date: 21 December 2024

When I was a younger man, I was obsessed with the music of film. I speak, of course, of the classical-inspired original compositions that used to score films and trailers before the recent trend of including lowest-common-denominator pop crap that permeates practically every new film release of the last decade. The sweeping melodies of string sections and elevated tension of the percussion, the paces accelerando as the chills ran down my spine, the pieces finally crescendoing into a marked climax – and it was like feeling a week’s worth of emotions in a two-minute period. At some point, I started listening to heavy metal and picked up the electric guitar for the first time. Eventually, I discovered Rhapsody (later ‘of Fire’), and 16-year-old me was immediately obsessed. In the time since, I’ve been all up and down the symphonic metal style and its associates power, death, black…(thrash when?) – and even though it’s no longer my go-to these days, I can always be persuaded to lend an ear to a fugue or two. Enter Black Yet Full of Stars, an impressive orchestral metal project by Amsterdam-based Italian composer Carlo M. Dini. Dark Wing Gospel is the second release under this name and features an all new lineup, including among others Davide Penna (Mirrormaze) on clean vocals and Ludovico Cioffi (Delain) on growled vocals. 

The album takes a slightly different approach to most symphonic metal; whereas many bands tend to emphasize the more standard metal elements, to which an orchestral tapestry is merely a backdrop, Black Yet Full of Stars prioritizes instead creating rousing symphonies in multiple movements, to which the metal generally takes a support role, only ever taking the forefront during solo guitar sections. As such, to suggest Dark Wing Gospel is replete with the iconic riffs or memorable sweep-picking solos of some other symphonic, perhaps neoclassical, progressive power metal outfits would be misleading; although metal is without question an important ingredient on this album, it is only part of the whole. Think more Therion, and less Rhapsody or Kamelot. The focus here has ostensibly been to create textured landscapes that conjure up grandiosity, majesty, and at times, despair; menace. The baritenor singing of Davide Penna evokes triumph and agony with a dark, emotive voice reminiscent of Adagio’s Christian Palin, while the brash, confrontational harsh vocals of Ludovico Cioffi hearken hellish creatures and dark sentiment in a manner not unlike that of Asis Nasseri from Haggard.

Certainly, ‘orchestrator’ is a title Carlo does not take lightly to, as Dark Wing Gospel is an ambitious release even for the bombast that typically defines symphonic metal. Right from the start, you can get a sense of the theatrical, grandiose nature of the album with the overture of “Halom Shacor”, the opening track of the album. The threatening sound of a pounding march fades into a sinister violin and rumbly grand piano, introducing choirs (with real people, no MIDI!) and horns, and a mounting anticipation that builds and builds, until the drums and guitars kick in with a syncopated beat that immediately gets you making a stank face. Starting a symphonic metal album with an instrumental orchestral suite isn’t groundbreaking territory by any means, but there’s a sophistication here that Carlo’s formal background in music brings to the record; there’s a definite cinematic flair here that feels very much like listening to an epic film score.

With a runtime of only forty-eight short minutes, Dark Wing Gospel packs as much as sonically possible into each of the six tracks – with only one of those coming in under the five-minute mark, and the longest being just shy of nine minutes – but as such, the pieces tend to flow into one another so well that I often found myself having to look back at my phone to redetermine which track was currently playing. The whole album is over before you know it, and even though you’re left reeling in the wake of this dramatic spectacle, indeed it can be challenging to recall the differences between pieces as the strings and horns and entire symphony sometimes becomes a blur. This isn’t necessarily a detractor, but it’s another one of the ways in which it tends to feel more like a soundtrack than a metal album. And indeed, there’s apparently an entirely orchestral and vocal remix of the album in the works that is due for release at some point.

Black Yet Full of Stars doesn’t try to reinvent the wheel with Dark Wing Gospel, but competently utilizes all the arcane knowledge that came before to forge a progressive, cerebral symphonic metal experience that fully immerses the listener with its esoteric essence. The sum and substance of this album are found throughout the genre and style, but few can competently alchemize them in the way Carlo has done. Though placemarkers can be slightly challenging to find as you run through the track listing, uniformity is not necessarily a bad thing, and it makes for a very consistent release. There’s no shortage of massive, epic Italian symphonic metal works, and Dark Wing Gospel is no exception. And yeah, maybe this album was made in the Netherlands, but it has the boot of Italy written all over it. Truly his magnum opus, these oeuvres transmute a base metal into a noble one, and render this album a joy to listen to.

Recommended tracks: “Nigredo, Foulest Servant”, “Albedo, Ancient Heart”, “Rubedo, The Artist”
You may also like: Adagio, Winter’s Verge, Audiomachine, the alchemical writing of Paracelsus, Stormlord
Final verdict: 8.5/10

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

Label: Independent

Black yet Full of Stars is:
– Carlo M. Dini (composer, producer)

The post Review: Black Yet Full of Stars – Dark Wing Gospel appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive rock, alternative metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Porcupine Tree, Steven Wilson, Karnivool, Tool
Country: Netherlands
Release date: 31 May 2022

The business model for any small band must be complicated—practising in the evenings, recording at the weekends, touring when you’re on leave—but god knows what it must be like when you’re a studio-only band. Most artists do this for the love of the craft, and there are always going to be trade-offs, more so if the revenue stream of ticket sales (small though it probably is) and the increased exposure that touring will net you, aren’t an option. That probably explains why The Last Scattering Surface, the third album from studio-only band Look to Windward, was funded via Kickstarter.

What are the fans kickstarting? In Look to Windward’s work you’ll hear a big Porcupine Tree influence bolstered by a bit of Tool and Karnivool alt metal off-kilterness in the heavier polyrhythmic sections. Now based in the Netherlands after having lived in the UK and New Zealand, Andrew McCully, the founder (alongside Benjamin Morley who has since left, but still provides guest vocals on most releases) and main driving force behind Look to Windward, offers some sweeteners to the deal: The Last Scattering Surface will be released with a 5.1 surround sound mix alongside a Blu-Ray full-length animated film. 

“Why Ask?” kicks proceedings off with a bang, energetic and heavy, “Relic” experiments with a more ethereal tone with a strong use of Moog for a throwback vibe, while the somewhat eerie trip-hop lament of “When You Go Away” is somewhat reminiscent of Steven Wilson’s “Ancestral”, the sombre tempo interrupted by a brief but energetic solo section. Guest vocalist Emily Rice, who has worked with McCully for a few records now, is a strong presence throughout, and makes her most significant contribution on lengthy ballad “Theia Arrived One Fateful Day (III)”, which builds up to a strong climax and an unusual guitar solo conducted in the idiosyncratic style of Adrian Belew (King Crimson); she also delivers a lovely duet with McCully on  “Earth Overture (I)” over an almost electronica style beat which I wish was explored more fully. The one-two of “Spin” and “The Condition” in the album’s latter stages is probably the best section of the album, offering us the weirdest track and the most energetic track respectively, “Spin” experimenting more with synth and vocal distortion while building chaotic layers, and“The Condition” featuring the album’s strongest riffs. 

But the presence of stronger riffs implies the existence of weaker riffs, and “Dance of the Futile” demonstrates that problem well. While the ten-minute epic showcases Look to Windward’s heavier and stranger qualities, juxtaposing strange synth and lead guitar textures against heavier grooves, it nevertheless outstays its welcome, recycling a fairly uninteresting riff to its detriment. Indeed, this problem is writ large throughout The Last Scattering Surface: the moments of heaviness are a necessary counterpoint to the lighter textures, but there are few interesting riff ideas—the chord choices are strong but the execution lacks bite and all is conducted at a fairly uniform tempo (the drummings share guilt on this point). Indeed, the rhythm section feels a bit neglected overall, trudging serviceably, dragging down the tracks by bestowing an unfortunate sense of monotony. At sixty-one minutes, The Last Scattering Surface is hardly a short album, and the lack of variety makes it drag. There’s a distinct core sound here, one that blends the wonky strangeness of Fortune Haze and the more overt Wilson worship of In Fantasy and that’s a great step forward. But now, within that signature style, Look to Windward need to find variation, and much of that is needed within the rhythm section. 

The number of assets Look to Windward have to work with is admirable: a distinctive sound, talented guests, and exquisite production. Unfortunately, there’s a certain clunkiness in the rhythm section that holds The Last Scattering Surface back, making some moments drag more than they should and contributing to a lack of variation. I don’t think Look to Windward’s fans will be at all disappointed in this release, which effectively builds on their last album’s sound whilst looking back to their debut, too, but, unfortunately, The Last Scattering Surface couldn’t quite win me over. 

Recommended tracks: Why Ask?, Spin, The Condition
You may also like: Inhalo, Fjieri, Hyco, Smalltape
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Independent

Look to Windward is:
– Andrew McCully (vocals, guitars, keys, programming, production)

With:
– Benjamin Morley (guest vocals)
– Emily Rice (guest vocals)
– Andy Smith (lead guitar)
– Oriol Nieto (guest vocals)

The post Review: Look to Windward – The Last Scattering Surface appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: prog black metal, post-black metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: White Ward, Thy Catafalque, Enslaved, Mare Cognitum
Country: Netherlands
Release date: 26 April 2024

The Dutch get a bad rap on our blog (see here and here). With several Dutch authors and former authors including our venerated founder, Smiaç [Editor’s note: you see the authority I have here???], there’s a bit of a home-team disadvantage going on it seems. Dystopia want to rewrite that narrative and usher in a new age of Dutch progressive metal on The Progressive Subway with their age-old blend of post- and progressive black metal on fourth album De Verboden Diepte I: Veldslag op de Rand van de Wereld. Can they right the ship for a nation?

“Dood van de Wachters” sure makes a strong case as an opening track with a flurry of blast beats, maelstromic post-black riffs and Dennis Onsia’s passionate vocal performance, gruffly shouting and snarling his soul through the mic. The highlight of the album, though, occurs only a minute and change into the track with a crystal trumpet note from multi-instrumentalist Thomas Cochrane which is accompanied by an anticipatory drum pattern from Cees de Wit reminiscent of Stortregn. The section is startling yet serenely thrumming with energy. The rest of the track consists of unreal lead guitar melodies, part Wills Dissolve and part Mare Cognitum, weaving deceivingly intricate leads in huge tapestries. Similarly, other tracks use guitar parts to crescendo, scorch with fire, noodle, and cause headbanging. All four members of Dystopia have excellent synergy, and they seem to feed off each other’s energy for an electric performance. 

For each uniquely Dystopia brass section (there’s a trombone on here in addition to the sublime trumpet) and triumphant melodic riff, I do have to suffer through what I find to be slightly remedial post-black metal. The whole thing is technically wonderful—not to mention produced supremely well: there’s bass!—but frequently I’m waiting for a lead guitar part between more engaging sections to take the place of the pretty standard riffing lacking in melodic or rhythmic interest. Fortunately, I’m never waiting long because Dystopia are masters at transitioning between ideas quickly without feeling like they’re losing track of where the songs are going. For example, “Eerste Enkelen, Toen Honderden, Toe Duizenden” starts with a stank-face heavy riff, transitions between weirdo-French-black-metal-sounding harshes and Jon Aldara-esque (Iotunn) cleans, and then we get a trumpet nicely integrated into the metal. Onsia’s vocals are a huge asset for the band, and the lyrics, which Sam tells me detail some badass things about war and stuff, complete Dystopia’s aesthetic. These guys have a vision and execute it with professionalism. 

As in all cases ever, a prim runtime helps De Verboden Diepte I: Veldslag op de Rand van de Wereld remain entertaining throughout its duration except for a hiccup at the end of “Giftige Woorden” where they play around with synths a little too long. Their rapidly evolving song structures also stave off any homogony, and the drumming especially is wildly active, shifting between blasts, fills, and lighter sections with ease. I would quibble that the album is frontloaded, but that’s really just because “Dood van de Wachters” is such a strong opener. I do wish the fuller orchestrated brass section of around 4:00 of “De Val” was utilized more frequently throughout the album because the timbres work really well with the brand of post-black, and slightly more frequent use would help mitigate any possible allegations of being a gimmick. Overall, though, De Verboden Diepte I never overstays its welcome; if anything, I’d want more of certain elements that are too awesome to relegate to only briefer sections—all of which are highlights. 

This might be the single highest-rated Dutch album on our blog here, and I think Dystopia are harbingers of a bright new future for the country—particularly if they and Grey Aura can inspire more weird black metal for me to snatch up and review. Sam be damned, great music can come from his homeland [Editor’s note: NOOOOOOO].

Recommended tracks: Dood van de Wachters, Giftige Woorden
You may also like: Grey Aura, Ophiuchi, Crow Black Sky
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

Label: Immortal Frost Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Dystopia is:
– Thomas Cochrane (Guitars, Trumpet, Trombone, Vocals (backing), Bass)
– Dennis Onsia (Vocals (lead), Guitars)
– Cees de Wit (Drums)
– Rick Jongman (Guitars, Vocals (backing))

The post Review: Dystopia – De Verboden Diepte I: Veldslag op de Rand van de Wereld appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: experimental black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Stravinsky, The Body, The Ruins of Beverast 
Review by: Andy
Country: Belgium, Netherlands
Release date: 7 April, 2023

Ah the trope of the prolific one-man black metal outfit! In the past couple years, Kosm (Void of Nothingness) and Nox Victoria have gained notoriety in my sphere of influence by nearly constantly releasing singles, EPs, and LPs under a slew of names, yet Déhà and Gnaw Their Tongues are some of the OGs. Our Belgian champion of often outside-the-box black metal, Déhà, has thirty-one “currently active” bands on Metallum, and Maurice de Jong of Gnaw Their Tongues clocks in with a tidy thirty. These numbers are for different projects and bands, by the way, not mere albums. I’ve frantically tried to keep up with these artists’ recent output for the last few years, and I couldn’t do anything but laugh when I did my weekly check of their Metallum page and saw they had a split out together. 

…I stopped laughing pretty quickly when the music started. Gnaw Their Tongues’ monolithic “The Sacrificial Dance” initializes the two track split, balancing careful symphonics with slightly sloppier black metal. While many of the previous Gnaw Their Tongues albums are a chaotic menagerie of screeching industrial electronics and biting noisy black metal, this time around, de Jong finds his inspiration in Stravinsky more so than in a haunted construction site. The dense, eerie madness worthy of the Gnaw Their Tongues branding still seeps through, of course—just as if filtered by the regality of SepticFlesh. The track is a delirious ballet with orchestrations flashing out of metal violence like a swarm of bees. As a good modernist track, “The Sacrificial Dance” pushes the boundaries of established paradigms, forcing Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring into new territories of sonic discomfort with its injection of brutality. These modernist techniques further materialize as the track’s crescendos cyclically evaporate into shifting electronics. Maurice de Jong paces “The Sacrificial Dance” excellently, and while occasionally I think the maniacal metal can weaken the impact of the orchestration, it easily ranks among my favorite of Maurice de Jong’s plentiful opera. 

Déhà, however, leans much more into a second-wave black metal onslaught, much happier to pummel at the start than the more ruminative Gnaw Their Tongues contribution. I have no complaints about that, though, as the riffage is consistently head-bangable, occasionally striving toward the fiery harmonized peaks of Mare Cognitum, and the vocals–the highlight of the track–sound uniquely like a furious pterodactyl. The shrieks are unlike almost anything else I’ve heard on a metal record, and I adore the style. Moreover, around the middle, an ominous shift into more ritual ambient prioritizes a subtle chant over bubbling electronics and an almost tribal drum beat. When, in the final few minutes, the two aspects of the track blend together into an epic culmination of Déhà’s vision, the necessity for both tracks to be longform is obvious. The sprawling, Stravinsky-informed journey that Déhà and Gnaw Their Tongues achieve together is astonishingly cool.

So this answers the age-old question of what happens when two of northwestern Europe’s premier workaholics come together… we get some of their combined best work. I do have small gripes about the production, especially how the orchestrations on “The Sacrificial Dance” don’t cut as well through the metal as I’d like. Other issues about the split’s overall flow–a lack of homogeneity between the two tracks especially–also prevent it from reaching the zenith of either of their discogs, but color me impressed with the project. 

Recommended tracks: The Sacrificial Dance, Ritual Action of the Ancestors
You may also like: Tchornobog, Jute Gyte, Omega Infinity, SkyThala
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

Label: Independent

Déhà and Gnaw Their Tongues are:
– Déhà (everything, Déhà)
– Maurice de Jong (everything, Gnaw Their Tongues)

The post Review: Déhà & Gnaw Their Tongues – Rituel des Ancêtres appeared first on The Progressive Subway.