Style: Avant-garde, experimental, progressive metal, world music (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Igorrr, Wardruna, Eolya, Forndom
Country: Iceland
Release date: 14 July 2025

When you’re in the reviewing game long enough, it feels like you’ve seen it all. We’re within days of my third anniversary writing for The Progressive Subway, and 2025 feels like a wasteland. The blog is depressed by the lack of good new releases, the usual summer lull is hitting harder than ever, and I’m sifting through everything that’s available to review without enthusiasm. Insipid trad prog? No thanks. Uninspired prog rock? Not on your life. Middling djent debut? God, please smite me down. Sometimes you just feel that new releases no longer inspire you the way they did when you were a wide-eyed young reviewer with enthusiasm and hopes and dreams. If I employed a compass to point me to the interesting new releases, where would it take me?

Perhaps to Spaniard at large in the land of the ice and snow, Mario Infantes, formerly of baroque metal group Cult of Lilith, who has returned with a second solo effort, Bitácora (from the Spanish for binnacle: the casing for a ship’s compass). Exploring a range of moods and genres, Infantes melds a wealth of folk traditions with metal and symphonic influences, exploiting an ensemble of instruments from various countries in the process. The resulting concoction bears resemblances to his alma mater group, as well as the work of Igorrr, but utilises a rather different sonic palette. Singing in both Spanish and English (and quite possibly in other languages), Infantes leads the project as a multi-voiced, multilingual, multi-instrumentalist. He has a natural, operatic tendency, from Einar Solbergian high falsetto to resounding tenor, utilising Igorrr-esque harshes, layered choral harmonies, throat-singing (or close to it), and some more performative voice acting—moments of laughing, spoken word, even something akin to rap.

The instrumental bed, meanwhile, is a deft blend of metal instrumentation and folk instruments from around the world. Handpan features heavily, forming a raindrop dressing for the contemplation of ballad “Streams” and the Balkan lament “Notre Prison”, while a dissonant chiming gamelan underpins “Xhadhamtje”. At various other junctures, we hear from duduk (an Armenian double-reeded woodwind), bansuri (Indian bamboo flute), oud (Middle Eastern lute), zurna (double-reeded woodwind)¹, and doubtless more that my untrained ear failed to pick out. When the riffs come, they often have a rather loose structure, allowing Infantes to use them as an emphatic texture rather than as a restrictive rhythm that hampers the madness of his sonic science, perhaps best heard on “Cianuro”, where the riffs constantly morph, rarely repeating a measure. The resulting concoction is international yet seamless; while a particular section might sound Indonesian or Spanish or Eastern European, the totality seems borderless, the creation of a citizen of nothing smaller than the world itself. 

“Xhadhamtje” is probably the most avant-garde swing on the album with Infantes’ throaty keening and a palimpsest of sinister whispers and nightmare sounds ala Ecophony Rinne, giving way to an enormous operatic crescendo with help from shrieking guest vocalist, Stirga, and an eruption into metal riffs, all underpinned by a nightmarish windchime motif. “Muharib Alqifaar” opens with zurna, Phrygian wails and mysterious oud picking, before exploding into heavier and heavier riffs, and while the coda of Spanish rap feels tacked on, it’s mostly a very successful journey through Bitácora’s various modes. Closing epic, “Cianuro”, operates similarly: a nine-minute distillation of Infantes’ various idiosyncrasies, from balladic crooning sections to upsurges of manic metal. In these heavier moments, the guitar tone and prominence of the bass in the mix, as well as some of the operatic tendencies and manic harshes, have more than a whiff of Igorrr about them, but Infantes owns his sound for himself.

Indeed, it’s in his restraint that this is most apparent: “Sírenu” largely consists of Infantes and an oud with strings before its orchestral crescendo and a gorgeous guest performance from Sunna Friðjónsdóttir. “Away” relies heavily on handpan, much like “Streams” before it, growing inexorably toward a cathartically rhythmic, ritualistic chant. “Streams” is probably the most accessible track on the album, the swelling strings in its chorus proving genuinely stirring. Infantes excels at giving each track a distinct personality of its own, and intersperses the more experimental and heavy sojourns with calming palate cleansers; the softer moments are, perhaps, the album highlight, their meditativeness and sublimity proving a soothing palliative. 

As Bitácora closes with its conclusive coda of lo-fi flamenco and scatting, it’s hard not to feel like you’ve just returned from some astrally projected existential journey and come to at the corner table of a Spanish bar; after such a unique sonic adventure, it feels necessary to sit contemplatively for a minute or two. Certainly, Infantes is a remarkable musician and composer. And while the avant-garde scene can be demanding, and not every swing here lands, far more hit the mark than in the average work of this genre. Far too often, experimental composers throw everything at the wall to see what sticks, leaving listeners with an all too disjointed affair. But Bitácora manages that rare thing: an evocative, flowing listen with peaks and valleys, genuine emotion, and moments like a sonic punch in the face. A much-needed reminder that there are always innovative artists plugging away at their craft, and it’s nice when the compass leads you straight to them. 

Recommended tracks: Streams, Sírenu, Cianuro
You may also like: Maud the Moth, Evan Carson, Elend, Ivar Bjørnson & Einar Selvik
Final verdict: 8/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Instagram

Label: Lost Future Records – Bandcamp | Official Website

Mario Infantes is:
– Mario Infantes (vocals)

With guests:
– Hrafnkell Örn Guðjónsson (Drums)
– Yara Polana (acoustic guitar)
– Gísli Gunnarsson (additional orchestration)
– Ásgeir Ásgeirsson (Oud)
– Sunna Friðjónsdóttir (additional vocals)
– Živa Ivadóttir (additional vocals)
– Simon Thorolfsson, (guitar on Obsidian I)
– Samúel Örn Böðvarsson (Bass)
– Daniel Þór Hannesson (guitars)
– Sebas Bautista (additional guitars)
– Tayebeh jourbonyan (additional vocals)
– Erik Qvick (additional percussion)

1. Infantes’ Instagram page has lots of great little videos where he demonstrates these instruments and talks a bit about them. ︎

The post Review: Mario Infantes – Bitácora appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal, post metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Cult of Luna, Gojira, The Ocean, Textures
Country: Iceland
Release date: 22 November 2024

Is there a more prog metal coded country than Iceland? An icy volcanic rock where the earth literally boils with sulphuric pools and the sky regularly puts on ionic light shows. Where the heat and electricity is supplied by the awesome power of plate tectonics, where in the summer the sun doesn’t set, and in the winter it doesn’t even rise. A place of hostility and beauty in equal measure is, surely, the progressive metal promise. Iceland’s tiny population, which falls a little short of 400,000, have made a disproportionate impact on music—Sigur Rós, Sólstafir, Agent Fresco, etc.—and now it’s M​ú​r’s turn to represent the land of fire and ice.

Doomy opener “Eldhaf” channels the languorous beauty of Devin Townsend’s iconic “Deadhead” with Haraldsson’s plaintive cleans gliding atop gazy riffs. However gorgeous it may be, it’s a somewhat unrepresentative opener as the band begin to demonstrate on the title track (“M​ú​r” by M​ú​r from the album M​ú​r—“M​ú​r” M​ú​r M​ú​r¹); M​ú​r’s sound is usually far heavier, with an enormous wall of sound, mountainous growls, Gojira-esque grooves, and buzzing, ominous synth work all battering the listener. Shorter tracks like “Messa” and “Frelsari” showcase the band at their most brutal and energetic, while the more expansive works layer on atmosphere and build to typically epic post-metal crescendos in the vein of Cult of Luna.

M​ú​r’s greatest asset is frontman Kári Haraldsson whose vocals are absolutely monstrous. His pitched screams sit somewhere between Joe Duplantier (Gojira) and Devin Townsend, and his growls are as guttural as Randy Blythe’s (Lamb of God). His cleans, too, have a strident sense of force, with lyrics all in Icelandic. Haraldsson also handles synths and keytar which provide an unexpected but distinctive texture, like the ionospheric glamour of the aurora over the volcanic Icelandic landscape. The synth swells on “Heimsslit” drone ominously like harbingers of apocalypse, while the atmospheric break later in the song feels almost like someone put on Tangerine Dream, and the alarm call of the synth on “Messa” is ripped straight out of a rave where The Prodigy are headlining. “Vitrun” is underpinned by a constant synth pulse, providing a powerful sense of dread which ultimately explodes into a keytar solo that would sit comfortably in the discography of Frost*. 

If Haraldsson is M​ú​r’s USP, everyone else is working away more subtly to elevate the tracks. Drummer Árni Jökull Guðbjartsson shines brightest on the punchier tracks where he can work the kit harder (“Messa” features some ridiculous fills), and the guitar and bass work of Árnason, Ragnarsson and Klausen thrives on djenty grooves and crushing riffs with unusual chord choices to keep the listener on their toes, while tracks like “Frelsari” and “Eldhaf” feature some fantastic tapping-oriented guitar solos ala Gojira. The showstopping moments tend to be in the vocals and synth, but the interplay of the rest of the band is incredibly tight—on their debut, M​ú​r possess the synchronicity and confidence of a band who are a solid four albums into their career; it’s no wonder that Century Media Records signed them straight away. 

Despite using a band photo in which they look like baby-faced Metallica² as their album cover, M​ú​r have crafted an astonishingly mature and assured debut, evocative of the Icelandic landscape—volatile yet stoic, desolate yet beautiful—and apocalyptic in grandeur; a testament to the powers of this fledgling group. With grandiose metal grooves, electrifying synth, and a vocal performance that ranks among the best of the year, M​ú​r have come out of the gate running with a sound wholly their own—a late gamechanger in the 2024 release slate—and a record that sorely deserves your attention before the year is out.

Recommended tracks: Vitrun, Frelsari, Eldhaf, Heimsslit
You may also like: Seyr, Sikasa, Hippotraktor
Final verdict: 8/10

1. As Andrea True once sang. ︎
2. From left to right: Jason Newsted, James Hetfield, Lars Ulrich, white Rob Trujillo, Kirk Hammett. Sorry guys. 
   ︎

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

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

M​ú​r is:
– Kári Haraldsson (vocals, keytar, synthesisers)
– Árni Jökull Guðbjartsson (drums)
– Hilmir Árnason (guitars)
– Ívar Klausen (bass)
– Jón Ísak Ragnarsson (guitars)

The post Review: M​ú​r – M​ú​r appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive Metal, Death Metal (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: old Opeth, Mikael Akerfeldt, Sweden
Country: Iceland
Release date: 15 March 2024

In the garden of proggy delights, Opeth are one of the sweetest fruits and their influence on the genre is legion. Down in the underground, beneath the mire, if you will, lurk the Piah Mater’s and Marlugubre’s, harvesting at the Akerfeldtian style. Recently we reviewed The Moor, clearly named for the Opeth track of that title, and there’s a band called Demon of the Fall too. It’s the burden of any influential band to spawn a million imitators, but no other band has spawned as many actually good heirs apparent as Opeth have. Just as we can all supposedly trace our DNA back Genghis Khan, so many a band in the underground can trace their heritage back to Opeth. 

Certainly, there’s more than a little Akerfeldt in Vögel’s DNA. Hot on the heels of their 2022 debut album comes Kallið, a substantial follow-up EP from this Icelandic foursome. After the portentous piano of “Intro”, “Söngur Raddanna” bursts into blackened life with some very neat lead guitar. When the vocals hit, it’s like Mikael Akerfeldt reincarnated; the throaty harshes that dominate Kallið are enormous, a bit too redolent of Akerfeldt himself, but harshes that thick and portentous are a rare thing so I’m not complaining. The lyrics revolve around themes of mental health, but are sung in Icelandic so I can’t attest to whether they’re any good or not—if a depressed Icelander wants to tell us, feel free. 

However, Vögel are too deeply steeped in the Opethian sound: the main riff of the title track is a textbook Blackwater Park/Ghost Reveries era groove. You could argue that given it’s been sixteen years since Opeth’s last death metal album, it really doesn’t matter. Even when Vögel attempt to set themselves apart as with the languid chords of “Flæðisker” or the post metal intro and jazzy solo section on “Móðir Jörð” songs like “Burden” still spring to mind. “Söngur Raddanna” feels like the most original track with its blackened intensity and post-metal mid-section with reverberating Sólstafirian chords and a gnarly bass groove, but it’s still easy to imagine Opeth doing all of these things themselves. Those incredible growls, the chord choices, the guitar tone, the Phrygian scales… Vögel aren’t copying Opeth, but they can’t avoid sounding like Opeth. 

And it’s a shame, because sounding like Opeth takes talent, and Vögel have talent in spades. Their tracks are punchier than the average Opeth fare, avoiding the Akerfeldtian tendency to drive riffs into the ground, there are those blackened and post-metal influences seeping in, and the compositions flow really nicely. Kallið is a pleasure to listen to: the piano break and dreamy solo duels on the title track are a highlight, as is the metronomic synth underlying about half of “Móðir Jörð”. But even if I find myself enjoying their work, at the end of the day, it has to be acknowledged—you might not have seen this twist coming because I telegraphed it very subtly, but: Vögel sound far too much like Opeth. 

If you’re skilled enough to play like Opeth, you’re skilled enough to evolve like Opeth. No, I don’t want Vögel to write their equivalent of Sorceress—for the love of god, please don’t write a Sorceress—what I mean is that this level of proficiency means that the band could easily apply themselves to the task of developing their own style, using the Opethian toolkit just as bands like Wills Dissolve and Wilderun have, to make something perhaps not completely original, but fresh enough to call themselves apostles in triumph. 

Recommended tracks: Söngur Raddanna, Móðir Jörð, Kallið
You may also like: Wills Dissolve, Piah Mater, Wilderun, The Moor, Marlugubre, Descend, Hands of Despair, Pressure Points, Obsidian Tide, The Reticent, Luna’s Call, Eternal Storm, Loneshore, Stormhaven, An Isolated Mind… told ya the progressive underground likes Opeth!
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Independent

Vögel is:
– Arnar Ástvaldsson (bass, vocals)
– Arnar Snævar Eggertsson (drums)
– Finnur Þór Helgason (guitars)
– Sindri Snær Thorlacius (guitars, vocals)

The post Review: Vögel – Kallið appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Genres: djent (instrumental)
Recommended for fans of: Intervals, Sithu Aye, Uneven Structure
Country: Iceland
Release date: 1 Jan, 2024

I get it: we all like to cut up and have fun sometimes. There is nothing like being silly and goofy with your friends. However, when you try to take a romp with your friends and turn it into a product, it can fall on its face in an instant. Ironically, it takes a lot of effort to craft something that is silly and also enjoyable for those who didn’t make it. I should know: I worked on the yearbook team during my senior year of high school with the precarious theme of “controlled chaos,” which – to no one’s surprise – spiraled completely out of control and ultimately ended with a yearbook that was hated by everyone who wasn’t on the team, despite how much we loved it and had fun making it.

Unfortunately, I think something similar is happening in the context of Aaru’s debut, SWNPL. Establishing themselves as a moody and introspective metalcore/djent outfit on their introductory EPs, Ozymandias and The Human Condition, Aaru whiplashes themselves out of these expectations on SWNPL. Take one look at the album cover and tracklist and you’ll see that Aaru have taken a full swandive (SWNDV?) into instru-djent with an aesthetic that says “we had fun making this, but we didn’t take it super seriously.” Based on the cover, I was hoping for some tongue-in-cheek djent/metalcore in the style of Electric Callboy minus the Electric, but what I got was closer to a demo reel for a Neural DSP archetype.

I could forgive the air of nonchalance created by track titles like “DILLIGAF,” “Voldemortician,” and “Tiddies” if there was a thematic cohesion to this nonchalance or a strong point of view across SWNPL, but unfortunately, I’m not finding those here. The tracks are generally unfocused and lilt from instru-djent moment to instru-djent moment. Sure, you’ll find some nice ideas along the way, but these tracks are missing central ideas that bring it all together, and the song structures feel unintentionally linear as a result. What I enjoy most about rhythmic experimentation in djent is the repetition and iteration of an idea as a track progresses to establish cohesion, and I would have loved to have seen Aaru try that with the more enjoyable moments here.

One thing I will give them credit on is the production and performance. SWNPL sounds well produced and everyone plays perfectly in time: Aaru clearly take great care to establish cohesion among band members, and they produce the album accordingly. Moreover, there are some nice groovy moments on “Polar Bears Are Not Beer,” and the transition into the breakdown on “DILLIGAF” makes for a rewarding end to the track. Moments of greatness do make themselves known, but they are trapped under unfocused songwriting.

I’m a bit baffled by the transition from the serious of The Human Condition to the silly of SWNPL, as Aaru have lost their sense of focus and cohesion in the process. I’m not asking for another grim and serious album, but as it’s presented here there’s not much tying these track ideas, song titles, or album aesthetics together. Clearly they are having fun and there were some cool ideas present, but I would have much rather they develop these ideas into full songs instead of haphazardly throwing them into the kitchen sink with 100 other less fun ideas. If you’re absolutely dying for instru-djent, then you’ll probably find something to like here. Otherwise, SWNPL will probably come across as a low-effort non-sequitur from a band who have previously done a good job at getting their point across. Y’all can do better than this.

Recommended tracks: Uhh, maybe DILLIGAF?
You may also like: Auras, Valis Ablaze, Ever Forthright, Krosis
Final verdict: 3/10

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

Label: Independent Release

Aaru is:
– Alexander Glói Pétursson (guitars)
– Úlfar Alexander Úlfarsson (guitars)
– Gauti Hreinsson (bass)
– Aron Bragi Baldursson (drums)

The post Review: Aaru – SWNPL appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Genres: pagan black metal (mixed vocals, Icelandic lyrics)
Recommended for fans of: Moonsorrow, Kampfar, Winterfylleth, Panopticon
Country: international (Iceland, Germany)
Release date: 21 December 2023

In the midst of black metal’s violence, there is beauty. For every pummeling blast beat, gnarled guitar, and eviscerating shriek, an inkling of magnificent power overwhelms the senses. Cathartic and sublime, the best black metal mimics nature—standing atop a large mountain, being punished by a stormy sea, hearing the colossal groans of a glacier, growing delirious in the desert’s scorching heat. Hailing from Iceland and Germany, Árstíðir Lífsins use longform song structures and beautiful Norse poetry in order to invoke the power of nature.

Only two tracks long, Hermalausaz seems like a short EP until you notice that both tracks are over twenty minutes… only nominally an EP, though perhaps it makes sense considering the band’s LPs typically run well over sixty-five minutes. On this new EP, both tracks are pleasantly adventurous, venturing between archaic folkloric passages and icier second wave black metal influences, taking me from place to place on epic Scandinavian adventures. Altogether, Hermalausaz is closest in sound to pagan black metal acts like Moonsorrow, and just like Moonsorrow, the epic form of Árstíðir Lífsins’s songs amplifies their quality, allowing for the tracks to tell complete tales at once rather than less expressive, sprawling traditional songs.

The first track, “Ýrr,” has everything I want from pagan black metal: gentle acoustic passages, pummeling black metal, varied mixed vocals, and surprisingly good production. Most unique to Árstíðir Lífsins’s sound is the sonorous clean vocals of Marsél whose rich bass voice wonderfully contrasts with his shrieks, especially when harmonized with others chorally. The production is certainly impactful for Marsél’s voice, emphasizing the low end of the band’s sound unlike most black metal which feels particularly treble heavy. On Hermalausaz, we can hear the bass strings, the blasting of the bass drum, and the booming deep cleans just as clearly as the higher registers—the production is rich and appropriate. 

Between the stellar clean vocal and acoustic sections, however, is a relentless black metal that focused listening deems fairly uninspired. Árstíðir Lífsins write music for daydreaming of Viking raids or sledding down glaciers, and while zoning out you only notice the overall swells of the song, a rich, adventurous storytelling arc; yet when trying to focus on each moment, Árstíðir Lífsins devolves into sounding quite standard, the same as any other atmospheric black metal band in a hail of tremeloes, shrieks, and blast beats. These extended sections of black metal are technically quite proficient, especially the drumming, but they sound less inspired than the folkier—dare I say proggy—bits. With that step backwards to view the whole thing, Hermalausaz is a cathartic adventure across fields, fjords, and seas, but in most of the individual moments it’s just your everyday atmoblack. 

The other track, “Þistill,” adds in some more prominent viola as a timbral change that works quite well to stave off some of the black metal’s textural monotony, but shortly after, the black metal returns to increasingly uninteresting modern atmoblack. However, the nonlinearity of the songwriting is a storytelling strength, and the difficulty of predicting when a folk section will appear staves off some of the predictability of the black metal sections, allowing me to continue to dream of what inspired the Icelandic band.

Indeed, for once I wish I could understand the lyrics. As the Bandcamp blurb describes, “The lyrics are written in Old Norse poetic form and are highly inspired by the cryptic runic inscription of the western Norwegian Eggja rune stone, as well as selected Skaldic poetry.” I’m sure knowing more about Norse poetry would dramatically increase my enjoyment, but alas, they’re just a fitting musical background sound. I thought I’d love this EP more than I did, but it’s still wonderful to get lost in, especially as the snow starts coming in these winter months.

Recommended tracks: Þistill
You may also like: Finsterforst, Auðn, Helrunar
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Ván Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Árstíðir Lífsins is:
– Árni (drums, guitars, bass, string instruments, effects, vocals)
– Stefán (guitars, bass, vocals)
– Marsél (vocals, narration)

The post Review: Árstíðir Lífsins – Hermalausaz appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive Metal, Progressive Rock (Mostly clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Haken, Riverside, Caligula’s Horse, Porcupine Tree
Review by: Christopher
Country: Iceland
Release date: 19 May, 2023

As I type this, my colleagues are barricading the windows of the Progressive Subway offices against the hordes that will soon descend upon us with their pitchforks because I’m about to mark myself out as a pariah: I think Haken’s last three albums are extremely mediocre. The Mountain is a masterpiece, Restoration is a phenomenal EP, and Affinity has a lot to recommend it, but Vector, Virus and Fauna delivered a glut of djenty slop that has inspired a lot of worse djenty slop from legions of Haken imitators. It seems that the band members have focused their energies on their generally better solo material leaving Haken itself a hollow, inert slush fund. 

Having successfully alienated most of our readership (and some of my fellow reviewers who are now using the leftover wood from the barricades to make a pyre), let’s talk about Ring of Gyges, an Icelandic group who are clearly inspired by Haken. Their debut full-length Beyond the Night Sky was a charismatic work which recalled The Mountain insofar as it weaved classic prog rock influences into a modern trad prog metal foundation, plus a similar affinity for vocal harmonies. I was eager to see how they might develop this mix of old and new influences on their follow-up. 

Their sophomore certainly lives up to its title. While the general sense that these guys like classic prog rock remains—the mellotron makes its presence known, “Go” noodles around with Yes-esque bass and synth, and the vocal harmonies are still rooted in progressive rock—they’ve undeniably taken a step further towards a more modern, djent-tinged, generic progressive metal sound. Ring of Gyges now sound apiece with bands like The Stranger, Turbulence and, Altesia. That’s not a bad thing by any means—I really like some of those bands; hell, I like Ring of Gyges, too, but this shift towards a safer sound means they no longer stand as clearly apart from their peers. The shift is more to a Riverside sound with new Haken undertones, rather than a wholesale shift into the most egregious new Haken-worship.

Nevertheless, I always liked the timbre of Helgi Jónsson’s voice, and he’s undeniably strengthened his vocal game here with flavours of Jennings and Jim Grey of Caligula’s Horse in his style. “Dragonflies” kicks off the album anthemically with jubilant bells under the main riff, most of the riffs feature some rather sexy guitar solos, and “Nautilus” features some breakdowns of the br00tal variety. Despite reducing the classic prog influence, the tracks that lean into it hardest prove the weakest on Metamorphosis. “The Choice”, “Fading” and “Find Me Here” are fine songs, but the classic prog side of Ring of Gyges’ sound is far more reigned in now, leaving these tracks sounding more like modern Riverside filler rather than something an undiscovered seventies group might’ve made. 

The first half of the album comprises a lot of relatively short, accessible tracks from both the heavier and lighter side of Ring of Gyges’ reformed sound, all with the requisite riffs and hooks to catch a new listener whilst still throwing plenty of creative ideas at the wall. However, they don’t truly let loose until the twelve minute track “The Face of God”. The Haken influence becomes even more overt here, from the thrumming opening synths, to Jónsson channelling his inner Jennings even further, to the heavy post-chorus riffage. In its latter stretches, the evolution on this track becomes positively fun, embracing the proggy excess, and it’s succeeded by  “Sea Legs” which continues this trend, culminating in a rather wild synth solo. Metamorphosis is at its best with looser structure and wilder ideas. Everything Ring of Gyges do demonstrates talent, is well composed and threatens to worm into your ear, but I’d be lying if I said you hadn’t heard most of this before. 

I was never meant to be a martyr but the Haken fanatics are preparing to light the pyre they’ve lashed me to, so I’ll utter my concluding remarks: Metamorphosis is a competent and catchy effort in well-worn territory albeit a little derivative, just in a different way to its predecessor, but I remain disappointed that Ring of Gyges have watered down rather than doubled down. Anyway, the Cockroach King is approaching the pyre with a lit torch in hand so I’d like to add one more thing before I’m burned at the stake for my heresy:

It’s still better than Haken’s last three albums! 

Recommended tracks: Dragonflies, Nautilus, The Face of God
You may also like: The Stranger, Turbulence, Inner Odyssey, Altesia, Enoch Root, Transcend, Structural Disorder, Moon Machine
Final verdict: 6.5/10

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

Label: ViciSolum Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Ring of Gyges is:
– Helgi Jónsson (lead vocals, guitar)
– Guðjón Sveinsson (guitar, vocals)
– Gísli Þór Ingólfsson (keyboards, synths)
– Þorsteinn Ýmir Ásgeirsson (bass)
– Einar Merlin Cortes (drums)

The post Review: Ring of Gyges – Metamorphosis appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Technical Death Metal (harsh vocals)
Review by: Dan
Country: Iceland
Release date: 16 July, 2021

Iceland is a barren, volcanically active, largely frozen island country full of small, stocky horses, lamb stew, and lichen. Its output typically includes wool, fish, tourism, and Björk. Ophidian I is none of those things. Even as far as Icelandic metal goes – which tends to be on the blacker, bleaker, more atmospheric end of the spectrum – Ophidian I is breaking the mold.

What you’ll find on Desolate is an absolutely jaw-dropping shredfest of insane lead playing, creative songwriting, and songs that just revel in the joy of their virtuosity. Arguably drawing more inspiration from chaotic eruptions than from glacial winters, this album offers a bit more energy, and a lighter tone than many of their extreme metal countrymates, but still hits hard when it needs to. Though clearly nodding towards Obscura, Gorod, and other legendary tech-death acts, this five-piece has nonetheless managed to craft something fresh and memorable.

Not since Obscura‘s mighty Cosmogenesis has a technical death metal song – in the purest adherence to the genre – managed to get a riff stuck in my head. Enter Desolate opener “Diamonds.” Quickly setting the album’s tone, the blistering kicks belie the bounciness of the riff’s main melody which, to be fair, only pokes its head out between sweeps and noodles. This makes the full scope of the riff infuriating to digest, yet simultaneously irresistible. For me, the most noteworthy riffs that maintain their intrigue even after a dozen listens are those like this: a perfect balance between complexity and hook. The song continues to tease this primary theme with absolutely stellar composition, never growing stale, nor leaving it too far behind. Indeed, the rest of the album follows suit.

The second track, “Spiral to Oblivion” has the band channeling their inner Gorod, and the album closer “Wither on the Vine” feels surprisingly akin to A Novelist’s Folie. Ordinarily, I’d be a bit disappointed by an album where I can point to each track’s primary influence, but on an album like this, it’s hard to be disappointed at all. These songs are so full of life and fire and passion, basking in their own glory for the sheer love of playing music.

It’s easy to pass off music this indulgent as, well, indulgent. You often hear the phrase “technicality for technicality’s sake” used to describe wankery of a similar tempo, but I have to admit, such criticism rings hollow here, despite probably being true. This is undeniably technical. More technical than it probably has any right to be. The flurries of notes whizz by so quickly one can hardly comprehend the spectacular onslaught, but somehow these guys turn this absolute blur into some of the most enjoyable melodiousness I’ve heard in a long time. It’s not 100% shred for every second though – the ten tracks are also filled with hooks and surprises, notable and well-written slower or heavier moments that provide a welcome respite from the deluge of technicality, skillfully giving the listener something real to grasp.

Besides the obvious guitar wizardry, the bass also holds its own. Though not nearly as present in the mix nor as noodly as, say Hugo Doyon-Karout’s almost overwhelming fretless performance on Equipoise‘s Demiurgus, moments like the ending of “Storm Aglow” make clear that bassist Þórður Hermannsson is doing far more than just ‘keeping up.’ The bass is impressively agile, with a bright and punchy tone. This intricate style of playing lets the bass survive in the relentlessly sweltering tempos of Desolate, but I think also keeps it from providing a really thick, powerful low end in the mix. The vocals, while lacking a bit of clarity in their production choices, leave plenty of breathing space for the strings to flourish while providing some familiarity and grounding to the songs. The drums are practically inhuman, with drummer Ragnar Sverrisson playing clean and consistent at tempos reminiscent of Spencer Prewitt’s mind-blowing performance on Archspire‘s Relentless Mutation, mixed with a bit of Ulcerate‘s Jamie Saint Merat’s flair.

The album isn’t without flaw, however, as a subpar editing job ends up distracting a bit from the songs. Lead guitar tracks enter abruptly and leave just as suddenly. Tones change on a dime, as if overdubs were afterthoughts and all the song’s tone settings had already been lost. Tracks enter and drop to build tension and create contrast, but it all serves to make the recording feel a bit less organic, and a little more mechanical and contrived. The production and mix, generally, is quite good, but the choppy editing (which, I’ll admit, is much more noticeable in headphones than on speakers) holds Desolate back from perfection.

Minor gripe aside, this is hands-down the most impressive tech-death album to come out in quite a long time. The musicianship is stupendous, the compositions are thoughtful and creative, with a good balance between showy shredding and tangible hooks, and the palatable 38 minute runtime zooms by in the blink of an eye – always a sign of a good album. If you want one album to be wowed by from in 2021, this is the one album you should listen to. BRB, gotta go pick my jaw up from the floor.

Recommended tracks: Diamonds, Storm Aglow, Sequential Descent, Jupiter, Wither on the Vine
Recommended for fans of: Equipoise, Gorod, Obscura, Augury, Ominous Ruin, Decrepit Birth, Spawn of Possession
Final verdict: 8/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Official Website | Facebook | Instagram | Metal-Archives page
Label: Season of Mist – Bandcamp | Website | Facebook

Ophidian I is:
– Ragnar Sverrisson (drums)
– Daníel Máni Konráðsson (guitar)
– Simon Thorolfsson (guitar)
– Þórður Hermannsson (bass)
– John Olgeirsson (vocals)

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