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Review: Seventh Station – On Shoulders of Giants

Francesco — Fri, 21 Feb 2025 15:00:00 +0000

Style: Avant-garde metal, experimental metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: UnexpecT, Cirque du Soleil, Alfred Schnittke
Country: Slovenia
Release date: 21 February 2025

What the hell’s in the water over in Slovenia? I mean, yes, Seventh Station is mostly an international outfit, but surely to get a group of musicians with such wildly different backgrounds to come together in one place and produce such an eccentric, absurd, and yet somehow, still internally consistent musical work, must take some doing. You can’t tell me that they’re just consummate professionals who’ve studied for years to master their art, right? Right? On Shoulders of Giants is an oddity, that’s for sure, and the focus of the album is a reimagining; a metal translation of select 20th century classical pieces. A complex, dramatic, adventurous, and at times silly EP, Seventh Station doesn’t just push boundaries here; they forego ‘em altogether.

On Shoulders of Giants is a remarkably coherent release and for the most part—with the exception of “Melodia Sentimental” and the last 100 yards (short of the very end) of “Nagasaki Kisses”— generally maintains an unsettling tone throughout. That’s not to say that it’s monotonous or unvarying – far from it. Throughout its short runtime, this very abstract, artsy, conceptual, avant-garde metal EP sometimes leaves your hairs standing on end, and at other times might have you laughing at its absurdity. The track listing goes through more mood swings than an indecisive teenager and yes, it’s interesting, and yes, it can be fun, but it also has a propensity for wearing on you – and quickly.

The opener, “Three Days in Dresden”, is exactly the type of soundtrack you’d be looking for at your next circus performance if you graduated from clown college with a minor in sadistic homicide. Meanwhile, “Seid nüchtern und wachet (VII. Es geschah)” feels like listening to the ravings of a German insomniac who’s finally lost his mind: at times elated and at others completely disconsolate. But don’t despair, because track three, “Tropical Limbo” opens with soothing marimba! …And eerie oscillations under a synth lead solo. Ah, the sounds of a perfect vacation. Speaking of vacation, let “Melodia Sentimental” bring your mind to a serene evening on a South American¹ coast with melodious classical guitar and soft strings accompanying gentle crooning. The outlier on this album, this song stands alone and is the most accessible piece and the only one with any semblance of normality on an album of aberrations – and is the only one that’s completely devoid of any heavy metal or rock elements. And lastly, we have the closer, “Nagasaki Kisses” – another seven-and-a-half minutes that transitions from more horror carnival, Arcturus-esque (minus the black metal) abstract prog metal into a cartoonish “oom-pah” theme with low brass and pizzicato strings that hearkens a 1930s silent film score, to a dreamy, ethereal fantastical theme that kind of reminds me of the epic, grandiose compositions of some later Wilderun.

This kind of juxtaposition definitely sets a tone for a very incongruent and experimental release. Obviously, Seventh Station have an innate understanding of composition and harmony from all over the world and various styles of music that have little and less to do with the metalsphere, and it seems like they threw everything they had at this. But does it work? Well, it was certainly entertaining. It’s difficult to get the sense that one would listen to a work like this in the everyday², but I can see a case being made for it if you’re into things that are outside of the purview of popular convention. Maybe if you collect little jars of creatures suspended in formaldehyde and have giant spiders in glass frames on your wall, and your favourite film is The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, yeah, I can see how On Shoulders of Giants might resonate with you. Otherwise, give it a once-over and you can kinda get the point. It’s twenty-seven minutes of avant-garde, dark cabaret fever-dream feedback.

Recommended tracks: “Seid nüchtern und wachet (VII. Es geschah)”, “Three Days in Dresden”, “Tropical Limbo”
You may also like: Spastic Ink, Subterranean Masquerade, OMB
Final verdict: 6/10

Label: Layered Reality Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Seventh Station is:
– David’avi (Vidi) Dolev (vocals)
– Dmitri Alperovich (guitars)
– Eren Başbuğ (keyboards)
– Alexy Polyanski (bass)
– Grega Plamberger (drums and percussion)

Note this music, ostensibly a bolero, is Cuban in origin, but the piece is sung in Portuguese. ︎
Much of that could be attributed to the original works, which are very challenging listens. ︎

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Review: Siderean – Spilling the Astral Chalice

Andy — Tue, 01 Oct 2024 14:00:00 +0000

Style: dissonant death metal, progressive death metal, technical death metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Ulcerate, Blood Incantation
Country: Slovenia
Release date: 13 September 2024

I review a lot of dissonant death metal because of my love of unsettling music; eschew tonal centers and simplistic rhythms. Yet despite its sheer abnormality in the grand scheme of music that draws me toward it, it’s for the most part largely similar within the niche for better or for worse. Given that I love the base style, the ease of consistently finding solid bands is a blessing; however, my reviews become challenging to write as I’ve exhausted every phrase possible to describe a dissonant death metal album over the past half year or so. After so many disso/tech reviews, I’m running out of ways to say that skronky guitar noodles turn me on.

Slovenia’s Siderean released a promising debut, but its unpointed songwriting hurt replayability. Even the most inscrutable stuff needs a hook to snag my consciousness. Spilling the Astral Chalice builds on the strengths of Lost on Void’s Horizon, particularly the performances and the production which is nearly flawless with a great emphasis on the clacking bass of Lovro Babič—his playing helps me draw a clear comparison between Siderean and the Swiss Anachronism. The bass propels Spilling the Astral Chalice, Babič’s pops, winding licks, and phat tone taking up equal space in the mix and writing as both guitarists combined, neither of whom is a slouch. Matija Dolinar and David Kocmur writhe around in tandem, taking turns with atmospheric trems and off-kilter rhythmic chugging. The guitar tones and style fit in with the dissodeath pack, but they’re tremendous players who provide highlights like the solos I can only describe as “slimy” (2:25 in “The Sacred Sea,” 6:00 in “Visions”).

Rounding out the instrumentalists, Darian Kocmur is a beastly drummer with a perfect ability to switch between blast beats and mammoth, space-filling leads. He injects a significant amount of kineticism into a style which can often get bogged down in its headiness. Finally, Jan Brišar is a madman on the mic, his wails remarkably unnerving like an animal howling in the woods at night. Together, Siderean are fantastic performers who incorporate a slick mix of dissonant atmospheres and more speedy technicality (and I personally believe too many dissodeath bands have forgotten the latter part in recent years). Everything is primed for Spilling the Astral Chalice to be yet another grand slam death metal release for ‘24.

Yet despite performances getting tighter and production quality increasing substantially, Siderean still lack a bit of extra oomph on the songwriting front. I love that the band attempt dynamic, sweeping epics like “To Build Ruins,” but the movements feel too organic causing the tracks to progress around without clear purpose, and, more importantly, the balance between atmosphere and technicality is unbalanced. While I prefer their more astringent death metal side, they’re too competent at atmosphere building (see “Emerald Age”) to transition away from it without allowing proper development. Often they’ll slow down the metal, but they switch back too quickly and rather than basking in the atmosphere, it comes across as disjointed. Finally, Spilling the Astral Chalice is a tad homogeneous in nature, largely coming across as plain old dissodeath—dissodeath done very well, mind you, but just dissodeath nonetheless.

In only three years, Siderean have clearly upped their game, but their weakness remains. Their free-flowing songwriting needs to become a bit more pointed to have any chance to stand apart from the ever-growing stream of weirdo death metal releases I review. I enjoyed listening to Spilling the Astral Chalice, but I anticipate little will stick with me, regretfully. Siderean have the potential to be stars in the scene, pun intended.

Recommended tracks: Emerald Age, Forces
You may also like: Anachronism, Vertebrae Atlantis, Ceremony of Silence, Unsouling
Final verdict: 7/10

Label: Edged Circle Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Siderean is:
– Lovro Babič (bass)
– Darian Kocmur (drums)
– Matija Dolinar (guitars)
– David Kocmur (guitars)
– Jan Brišar (vocals)

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Review: Neurotech – Memory Eternal

Andy — Sun, 31 Mar 2024 15:00:00 +0000

Style: prog metal, djent, industrial metal, symphonic metal (mostly clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Devin Townsend, Mechina, Michael Romeo (but that weird song “Fucking Robots” specifically)
Country: Slovenia
Release date: 15 March 2024

Of my countless accolades and achievements even at my young age, perhaps none reach such dizzying heights as Stockholm Syndrome-ing my mother into liking prog metal (as previously alluded to in my Southern Empire review). However, she always calls power metal and symphonic overtures in prog and the like “Disneyland music”; no, Mom, Symphony X’s “The Odyssey” isn’t Pirates of the Caribbean. Neurotech, on the other hand, actively cultivate a cinematic grandiosity, though closer to the mood of a dystopian sci-fi film than a Disney one… or perhaps Space Mountain. Maybe you’re onto something, Mom.

From the opening moments of swelling orchestration and choir’s chants of “Credo,” the album sounds like the score to some futuristic thriller. As in that technological future, everything on Memory Eternal is coated in chrome: shiny orchestrations, touched-up vocals, space-y synths, tight songwriting. Wulf—the Slovenian guy behind Neurotech—has his music under complete control at all times, never feeling unwieldy even at Memory Eternal’s heaviest moments like in the electro-djent parts of “Echoes of the Fall” or “The Ark of Cain.” But Wulf also doesn’t necessarily play it overly safe, either, with 80s synths transitioning into harsh vocals (“The Ark of Cain”) or long post- buildups replete with cello and choirs (“Memory Eternal”).

Within Neurotech’s cultivation of bombastic, epic soundscapes perfect for a blockbuster, he writes moments of awe-inspiring beauty. For instance, the acoustic bits in “Echoes of the Fall” cut like a knife through the glassy aesthetic ushering in a much more human touch. And for those who don’t know, arguably Neurotech’s best-received and most epic work is easily his Symphonies albums which merge classical ambition with prog metal’s instrumentation, the crème de la crème of which are expansive, glorious instrumental sections that explode with blast beats. Thankfully, Memory Eternal is suffused with such moments, as resplendent as they are liberating, infusing a feeling of levity into the heaviness. However, unlike Symphonies, I think the drums are mixed too loudly, not letting the melodies soak in as much as before, a real shame considering how awesome they are. Wulf’s songwriting abilities are on full display here, too, able to morph pop into electro-industrial djent with high-quality orchestration seamlessly, the choruses building up into the nutty climaxes.

In the crystalline execution of Memory Eternal, not all works for the best. Even if they fit the futuristic vibes, the detached vocoder effects aren’t necessarily my favorite as they become fairly monotonous by the middle of the album. I appreciate the turn toward poppiness for an album like Memory Eternal, but while Wulf still keeps the writing interesting, his instrumental stuff is what really grabs my attention: He’s a true master of synthesized orchestration without crowdfunding a sauna (Jari *cough cough*). The bigger problem is the drum tone, which I find tedious with its repetitive 2/4 stomp—a bit reminiscent of 80s synth pop. I still love the drumming when it turns to blast beats over clean sections—it’s truly my kryptonite and few do it better—but as I said earlier, Neurotech have done it better on previous releases.

So sure, Mom, I don’t think Neurotech would mind if you called this Space Mountain music; music just doesn’t get more sleekly hyperspeed than in 4:20 of “Echoes of the Fall.” While Memory Eternal throws a wrench in the symphonic excellence of Symphonies in favor of a more pop background, I don’t think Wulf loses any of what makes those albums so successful. Wulf is clearly a perfectionist, and I look forward to seeing what other curveballs he can throw in the future.

Recommended tracks: Credo, Echoes of the Fall, Descent, Memory Eternal
You may also like: Neurowolf, Neuroaxis, Evelyn, Sunyata
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: independent

Neurotech is:
– Wulf (everything)

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Review: Seventh Station – Heal the Unhealed

Christopher — Sun, 20 Nov 2022 14:00:00 +0000

Style: Progressive Metal, Eclectic Progressive Metal (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Devin Townsend, Haken
Review by: Christopher
Country: Slovenia
Release date: 7 November, 2022

I’m a sucker for what we’ve come to call “eclectic prog”, prog that’s weird or irreverent without being full-on avant-garde, running the gamut from the outright comical like Devin Townsend or Cheeto’s Magazine, to the merely eccentrically unique like Subterranean Masquerade. And speaking of Subterranean Masquerade, our album for review today features that eccentric Israeli group’s newest singer, Davidavi “Vidi” Dolev on vocals. Seventh Station is Vidi’s first project—formed by Israeli guitarist Dmitri Alperovich and Turkish keyboardist Eren Başbuğ—and Heal the Unhealed is their sophomore release.

An international collective ostensibly based in Slovenia, Seventh Station boast an impressive pedigree. Comparisons to Subterranean Masquerade are inevitable given Vidi’s unique timbre and theatricality, but Seventh Station are more traditionally metal and yet even more outlandish, delivering frenetic progressive metal akin to Others By No One or Devin Townsend. A concept album inspired by World War II and the Soviet Union under Stalin, “Unspoken Thoughts” opens Heal the Unhealed with boundless energy, a rollicking work of bizarro progressive metal that blisters through countless riffs; as openers go, it’s strong.

However, after this, a problem begins to arise: there’s a ton of spoken word on this album. Vidi’s voice has gravitas and the dramatic readings—spanning English, Russian, Hebrew and Italian—are certainly delivered more adeptly than much of the spoken word I’ve heard, and it’s interwoven into the compositions well. Nevertheless, spoken word is a pet peeve of mine in music, and along with samples of speeches it accounts for something like a fifth of Heal the Unhealed’s runtime. That’s not a flaw I can overlook, though for some listeners it may not prove a flaw at all. I appreciate that these recitations add to the grandiose conceptuality but, for me, it starts to interrupt the album’s flow. With repeat listens I found it a less glaring problem, but it does somewhat dampen the record’s many giddy heights.

But with that fairly minor complaint out of the way, we can get into the meat of Seventh Station: they’re fucking mental. These guys can perform. Vidi’s performance on this album is staggeringly unhinged, even better than on Subterranean Masquerade’s Mountain Fever, which was my favourite album of 2021. Honestly, he’d be a fantastic choice for a villain in a Disney musical—”Seven Digits” is a stellar proxy audition for such a role. He croons and growls and wails and simpers throughout the record, putting everything he has into every syllable.

The rest of the band are unstoppable too, every member gets a moment to shine in a mix which gives them all equal standing. The composition has a semi-symphonic flow to it (and, indeed, some symphonic accompaniment) constantly evolving, opting for motifs over riffs—the instrumental track “The Ruthless Koba” sounds at times like a metal version of Rossini’s “William Tell Overture”. Aside from the absolutely jaw-dropping lead guitar and synth work which is unrelenting, there’s a ton of stand-out instrumental moments. “The Heart of a Nation (Nadia)” alone features: an enormous choir and organ section, followed by Haken-esque duelling synth and guitar which is succeeded by an utterly gorgeous classical guitar break. That’s three amazing consecutive moments in one damned song! Heal the Unhealed does give those moments room to breathe, indeed there are many softer moments with a romantic or creepy vibe, but a lot of the time they dial it up to eleven.

I wasn’t familiar with Seventh Station prior to picking them up for this review, but upon listening to Heal the Unhealed I went straight to their debut Between Life and Dreams. Undoubtedly, the band have gone no holds barred for their sophomore, but their debut is more disciplined and has far fewer interspersions of spoken word. Heal the Unhealed hits absolutely unhinged heights, but is held back by the sheer number of speeches. I can wholeheartedly recommend both albums, but what I want Seventh Station to sound like is somewhere between the two.

Heal the Unhealed is a difficult album to reach a conclusion on. There’s so much here that I adore; these guys are all incredible performers and Vidi especially is at the height of his powers, but the zeniths Seventh Station soar to are tipped into unwieldy territory by the glut of samples and dramatic spoken word readings. Without these the album would be at least ten minutes shorter, flow far better, and be a strong contender for my top ten albums of the year. As it is, it’s still a fantastic sonic accomplishment, but next time, please guys, ease up on the spoken word stuff.

Recommended tracks: Unspoken Thoughts, The Heart of a Nation (Nadia), Seven Digits
You may also like: Subterranean Masquerade, Others By No One, Soul Enema, Spheres
Final verdict: 7.5/10

Label: Independent

Seventh Station is:
– Dmitri Alperovich (guitars)
– Eren Başbuğ (keyboards)
– Davidavi (Vidi) Dolev (vocals)
– Jure Lopatic (bass)
– Grega Plamberger (drums)

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Lost in Time: Begnagrad – Begnagrad

Tim — Sun, 14 Feb 2021 15:00:00 +0000

Photography by: Peter Kosmač

Style: Avant-Prog, Progressive Folk, Balkan folk (mostly instrumental, with the exception of anomalies of the human voice)
Recommended for fans of: Samla Mammas Manna, Stormy Six, Frank Zappa
Review by: Tim
Country: Yugoslavia
Release date: 1982

As western rock music commercialized in the second half of the 1970s, an international movement called “Rock in Opposition” arose. Founded by the British outfit Henry Cow and soon joined by bands such as the Belgian Univers Zero, the Swedish Samla Mammas Manna, and the Italian Stormy Six, they crusaded against the banalities of commercial rock with a relentless avant-garde approach. Traits are an unserious and absurd style, and the use of non-conventional rock instruments. The iconic electric guitar was not seldomly omitted from their compositions as well. In 1982, by the time Begnagrad was released in Yugoslavia, RIO had already folded as a movement, but the similarities are striking nevertheless. Avoiding early 70s guitar shredding, the Slovenian Begnagrad used a wide selection of folk instruments instead on their debut LP. Unlike any RIO band, however, their undeniably avant-garde approach was peppered with a blend of some alpine but mostly Balkan folk influences.

In Balkan folk music time signature changes are relatively common. Sequences such as 5/8, 7/8 and 9/8 are not a rarity. However, already within the first minute of the album Begnagrad takes this to a level of madness. As soon as the drums kick in the listener gets treated with – and/or confused by, which is up to the listener – a sequence of 7/8, 15/8, 7/8, 10/8 and 12/8, then a drumless part of 12/8, followed by a section of 5/8, 5/8, 6/8, 9/8, 5/8, 6/8 and 9/8. All of this happens in the span of nineteen seconds. Then, after more technical virtuoso shenanigans – I’ll spare you the rest of the time signature dynamics – barely a minute in the woodwind section sounds like a flock of wild geese. The music continues to vary several times per minute, including a yodel section (because why not). When the opener “Pjan Ska” (The Drinking One) ends in just over three minutes, more has already happened than in many full-lengths.

However, even more puzzling than the music itself is that an album with such a free-spirited and sometimes humorous sound was released on one of communist Yugoslavia’s state-owned record labels. How this passed censorship is a mystery (although the absence of lyrics might have helped), but luckily it happened.

In the second A-side song, “Romantična”, the accordion plays a major role. It is accompanied by a mix of several other traditional instruments and some modern ones. Contrary to the meaning of the song name (The Romantic One), the atmosphere does not really reminisce of candle-lit quality time. After several complexities in the song structure, the self-mockery of the band is further displayed by a brief part with a sound akin to bird whistle. After that “Bo Že (Če Bo)” [All’s Good (Maybe)] picks up in a relatively normal and traditional manner, only to completely throw that out of the window one minute in. The focus shifts to unusual sounds such as mad screaming, instruments sounding like wood is being sawn, and distorted gargling. Then Begnagrad switch back to the pseudo-traditional sound for the rest of the song like nothing happened. Subsequently, the last A-side track “Cosa Nostra (Waltz)” (Our Thing) is actually a waltz for the majority of the song, albeit in Begnagrad style. Halfway through the song the structure fades away, leaving room for whistles, toy sounds and other absurdities, to continue the waltz later on. The waltz’ drop in pace is a welcome variation to the usual madness of the album.

Once arrived on the B-side “Narodka / Kmetska” (Folk / Peasant) the listener gets immediately plunged face-forward into something that could perhaps be best described as free jazz with folk instruments. Although some song structure is apparent, chaos is still a very apt way to describe what is happening here. With the groove indicated by a mellotron played in 7/8, a large variety of instruments gets the spotlight (even a toy piano for a brief moment) within these six minutes of playful absurdism. Thereafter, in the bass-driven high-octane “Coc’n Rolla (Ljubljana Ponoči)” [Coc’n Rolla (Ljubljana By Night)] an at this point unexpected instrument has its first appearance on Begnagrad: the electric guitar. It doesn’t clash with the rest of the album; rather on the contrary, it adds to the album’s energy formidably, whilst offering variety simultaneously. Finally, the last song of the album is “Žvižgovska Urška” (Whistling Urška), a happy piece that pivots around skillful whistling, and later on also crazy humming. It closes the album in a satisfying way.

All in all, Begnagrad is a really wild album that might still be overwhelming at the tenth listen. It’s very energetic, playful, totally absurd, stylistically unique (in the good way!), and offers plenty of variation throughout the album. Despite a length of barely 35 minutes, one could feel ten years older after a single listen. However, it is completely worth it. There is so much to discover within the seeming chaos. It’s nonsense at its best!

Recommended tracks: Pjan Ska, Bo Že (Če Bo), Coc’N Rolla (Ljubljana Ponoči)
You may also like: Univers Zero, Von Zamla, Alamaailman Vasarat