(No artist noted; please let us know!)

Style: Progressive metal, power metal, symphonic metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Dream Theater, Diablo Swing Orchestra, Angra, Kamelot, Haken, Seven Spires, Seventh Wonder
Country: Brazil
Release date: 2 May 2025

Today, dear reader, we heed the eternal call that plagues every band known to man. The ever-present lore, the esoteric call that populates artist comment sections across the internet. The eternal convocation: “VENHA AO BRASIL”. Yes, today we are looking at a Brazilian act, Maestrick from São Paulo, and their album Espresso della vita: Lunare, part two of a concept album about a day-long train ride as a metaphor for life’s journey to death, and a nocturnal counterpart to their 2018 release Solare. It’s an ambitious progressive metal work that incorporates swing, symphonic power metal, and Brazilian musical conventions alongside heavy staccato riffing and velvety-soft vocals to create a high-octane experience. 

Maestrick excel most in the heavy swing/cabaret influence highlighted on the early part of the album. Tracks like “Upside Down”, “Ghost Casino”, and “Mad Witches” hearken back to early Diablo Swing Orchestra: heavy, grooving riffage punctuated by swing and jazz-influenced horn and piano sections that make you want to tap your feet and snap your fingers to the beat in a smoky room with a cigar in your mouth and two fingers of whisky in your glass. Additionally, the song “Agbara” features prominent Afro-Brazilian rhythmic cadences with lyrics in Portuguese—another excellent inclusion. I love hearing regional music in metal, and they blend it perfectly well with their heavy progressive metal style. It reminds me a little of the way Angra’s “Caveman” incorporated similar elements on their 2018 album Ømni. Unfortunately, the swing and traditional Brazilian influences are all but abandoned by the end of the album, where Lunare plays out with more symphonic, melodic progressive metal standards. 

Many of the compositions on Lunare feature a strong late-Dream Theater impact with a lot of twisty-turny Phrygian-dominant riffs present on “The Root” and “The Last Station (I A.M. Leaving)” and downtuned 7-string passages (“Boo!”). Add in a bit of that ‘modern metal’ affectation on songs like “Lunar Vortex” and “Agbara”—imagine Haken, Voyager, and that type of djent-approximate start-stop staccato riffing—and you’ve got a recipe that modern progressive metal lovers will find familiar yet compelling. Moreover, clear symphonic metal influence features on nearly the entire album, with grandiose compositions that echo film score epics, adding a lot of texture to the sound. Particularly captivating is the middle of “The Root”, where background strings heighten tensions before the guitar solo—and the end of the same track, where violin arpeggios over staccato riffing transition into a grand orchestral sequence that ends abruptly with heavy guitar. Skilfully written, and masterfully executed. 

Despite several strong points to Lunare, there are more than a few instances where Maestrick divert away from the energetic compositional style and into a more subdued emotional one, often at the expense of the album’s pacing. Soft piano and reverberant string arrangements characterize “Sunflower Eyes”, “Dance of Hadassah”, and the second half of “Mad Witches”. On “The Last Station” (the album’s epic, with a runtime of eighteen minutes), strummed acoustic guitar introduces the piece, which ebbs and flows in several movements from a soft rock ballad into a distinctly progressive metal heavy-hitter of a track, before transitioning into another very showy, symphonic outro. This consistent back-and-forth from heavy to soft and back again, even within the same song, I find to be a bit disengaging. Although I understand the need for differentiation within an album, it starts to feel a little repetitive when every other track incorporates some type of slow sentimental piece.

In spite of all that, Maestrick are obviously competent musicians and put out a very strong work with this ostentatious release that features symphonic elements, regional touches, and swing/jazz influence. Indeed, Espresso Della Vita: Lunare features all the nuance of its namesake drink, and much of the power—but sometimes stumbles into more watered-down territory with an overabundance of melodrama in its emotional ballads. These slower passages can bring you crashing down to Earth like a naloxone nasal spray when you’re carefree and flying high on the effects of progressive metal ambrosia. The album’s a fun ride, but a long one. Better brew another pot.

Recommended tracks: “Upside Down”, “Boo!”, “Lunar Vortex”
You may also like: Mindflow, Noveria, Almah, Immortal Guardian, Vougan, Everon
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

Label: Frontiers Music Srl – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Maestrick is:
– Fábio Caldeira – (lead vocal, piano, synths and orchestrations)
– Guilherme Carvalho – (guitars, backing vocals)
– Renato “Montanha” Somera – (bass, backing vocals)
– Heitor Matos – (drums and percussion, backing vocals)

The post Review: Maestrick – Espresso Della Vita: Lunare appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Pink Floyd, Yes, Franco Battiato, Premiata Forneria Marconi
Country: Italy
Release date: 23 January 2025

“To have seen Italy without having seen Sicily is not to have seen Italy at all, for Sicily is the clue to everything.” Thus spake Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe of his Italian journey in 1787. Coming from Palermo myself, of Sicilian metal and rock acts I know too few—death metallers Dark Secret from Caltanissetta, symphonic black metal band Inchiuvatu from Sciacca, and doomers Haunted from Catania—but for prog, specifically? Much as Goethe remarks, it felt a little like I was missing a piece of the puzzle until today, when I found myself writing about just such a group: Ologram from Syracuse. Ologram just put out their sophomore album La Mia Scia (“My Trail”) in January—a melancholic, contemplative and nostalgic progressive rock release, in the vein of 1970s pensive prog acts like Pink Floyd, but lacking some of the blues or psychedelic influence. Unfolding at a slow and deliberate pace, steeped in somber introspection, its track listing flows by, carried on wistful melodies and poetic lyricism—yet, for all its atmosphere, La Mia Scia never really takes shape. The music drifts, traveling endlessly on the autostrada without ever reaching a destination.

The compositions on La Mia Scia struggle to move along with any real purpose, with Ologram often reusing tired, terraced dynamics over the course of the album: loud, quiet, loud again, with practically every song playing into some variation of this structure. Tending towards energetic choruses leading back into soft, reverberant arpeggiated guitar in the verses, by the fourth track “Non Sarai”, it all starts to feel a little repetitious. There’s hardly a memorable riff here aside from the intro to “Kasbah”, which distinctly recalls “Kashmir” by Led Zeppelin; and the intro to “1997,” where an electronic drum and background melody leads into a syncopated rhythm over a reverberant, emotional short lead guitar solo. 

There is a bit of experimentation on La Mia Scia, however, where beyond traditional rock elements and the aforementioned electronic drum samples in the intros to “1997” and “Non Sarai”, Ologram dabble in some symphonic or acoustic elements that present themselves midway through the album, on tracks like “Jacaranda” and “Descent”. On “Jacaranda”, the focus is on a crescendo acoustic-guitar-and-string-backed vocal performance that adds some variety, and lends a 70s progressive folk quality to La Mia Scia in the vein of fellow countrymen Premiata Forneria Marconi, or even something approaching Jethro Tull. And on the instrumental piece “Descent”, Ologram has their stand-out moment as they very nearly take on a symphonic prog metal sensibility with heavy palm-muting and synthesizer leads with violin backing—but these are some of the few times something, anything, interesting happens on La Mia Scia. 

Vocally, there’s an undeniable emotional weight—vocalist Fabio Speranza delivers every line with the weary sigh of someone lost in memory, lamenting the past. However, this mournful approach rarely varies, making the album feel even more one-note. Lyrically, La Mia Scia leans heavily on abstract metaphors and sentimental imagery. While it’s very flowery and contemplative, much like the music, it rarely leads anywhere concrete. The words sound profound but their meaning remains just out of reach; atoms entwine, trees embrace the sea, time stands still—all very poetic, sure, yet often leaving more of an impression than an impact. 

None of this makes La Mia Scia a bad record. It’s atmospheric, enveloping the listener in its brooding haze; the production is polished and spacious, with each instrument given room to breathe while the arrangements emphasize texture over momentum; and it’s sincere in its melancholy. But the tempos don’t change much beyond a midpace, the band never breaks a sweat, and variations in the soundscape are few and far between save for the aforementioned folky or fleeting heavy metal moments. La Mia Scia is frustratingly static, offering little to grasp onto beyond its mood. For those seeking an album to sink into, letting its sadness wash over them, there’s something here. For anyone looking for more—movement, excitement, or even just a hook that lingers—this may feel like a beautiful, but empty, experience.

Recommended tracks: “1997”, “Descent”, “Kasbah”
You may also like: Wounded Knee, Phantom Spell, Silver Nightmares, Alex Carpani
Final verdict: 6/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Independent

Ologram is:
– Fabio Speranza (vocals)
– Lorenzo Giannì (guitars, backing vocals on “Jacaranda”)
– Dario Giannì (electric bass, fretless bass, keyboards, mellotron)
– Roberto Giannì (keyboards, piano)
– Giovanni Spadaro (drums, percussion, electronic drums)

The post Review: Ologram – La Mia Scia appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

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

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

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)

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

The post Review: Seventh Station – On Shoulders of Giants appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Gothic metal, industrial metal, alternative metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Lacuna Coil, Epica, Megara, Ankor
Country: France
Release date: 10 January 2025

I find the French metal scene is much like the Italian metal scene in that the bands who are interested in exporting culture by singing in their native tongue seem few and far between. Imagine that even the biggest French metal band in the world, when playing on the biggest stage in the world, in their native country, singing a metal version of a traditional folk song, couldn’t help but throw an English verse into it.¹ I just had to fucking roll my eyes and laugh. What an achievement for Anglophone metal, I guess. So when I find a band that sings in their native tongue, I’m immediately more interested in listening to that than I would be in listening to another similar band who sings in English, and today that brings me to Parisians ELYOSE and their newest album Évidence. A tasty blend of djenty riffs, industrial synths, and gothic atmosphere, neatly packaged with a glossy and tight production, there’s enough earworms here to keep you happily humming along even if your only experience with the French language is the sizing at Starbucks. 

Évidence has a very defined and crisp sound that is in contrast to the more loosely cinematic or theatrical feel of the symphonic and gothic metal style. Guitarist Anthony Chognard opts instead for sharp, aggressive djent riffing in the vein of Australian progressive pop metal outfit Voyager or even Mick Gordon‘s DOOM soundtracks but never straying too far from the gothic/industrial influence: in this way I’m reminded of later Lacuna Coil releases more than something like Nightwish. Chognard is also in charge of drums, and they sound massive and play well with the stop-start guitar work, often coming through in double-kick bursts and keeping the energy up, even adding a blast-beat section in “Immuable” punctuated by a staccato vocal that sounded really sinister.

ELYOSE really shines in their use of synths on Évidence to add texture, sometimes creating ambiance with soft pads (“Abnégation”) and at other times playing complex arpeggiated leads as an intensifier before a heavy intro (“Ascension Tracée”). The synths are a good way of differentiating sections and creating a sense of movement within a track, and when that filter opens up you know some shit’s about to go down. The symphonic and electronic sounds sit well in the mix and do well not to overpower the vocals of singer Justine Daaé, who sits comfortably in her expansive range, varying from haunting and powerful high notes to a more alternative/nu-metal-inspired almost-rap cadence (“Mission Lunaire”, “Tentatives Échouées”). 

The use of decidedly pop elements across Évidence lend it a more accessible sound: the song structures are generally on the more conventional side and the durations don’t drag out too long; the djent influence in the riffing generally lacks complexity; the aforementioned alternative metal vocal style is very pop-coded, and ELYOSE favors electronic or metalcore breakdowns with the spotlight on the vocals rather than guitar solos. That’s all a little cliché but it works well enough within the broader idea. ELYOSE aren’t trying to reinvent the wheel or break new ground here, and I find myself often drawing comparisons with their 2023 release Déviante. While I applaud them for sticking to a formula that works, I wonder if maybe they could’ve been a bit more adventurous with their soundscapes and arrangements. 

Évidence is a fun, uncomplicated, 40-ish minute romp, with lots of hooky electronic parts, rhythmic groove, and a penchant for getting vocal melodies stuck in your head. And I want to extend praise for the mostly-French track listing that adds a certain je ne sais quoi to the experience. It’s always a pleasure to hear a band put out a release in their native language even if it narrows the market a little bit—and to the naysayers who may complain about not understanding the lyrics, I posit that they seldom lodge the same complaints against extreme metal outfits with harsh vocals. ELYOSE are obviously skilled at what they do, but I’d love to see them expand on it a little with the next release.

Recommended tracks: “Tentatives échouées”, “Prête au combat”, “Théogyne 2.0”
You may also like: Manigance, Vilivant, Lisa Dal Bello
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Independent

ELYOSE is:
– Justine Daaé (vocals, keyboards, programming)
– Anthony Chognard (guitars, bass, drums)

1. Gojira – Mea Culpa (Ah! Ça ira!) ︎

The post Review: ELYOSE – Évidence appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

No artist credited (let us know!)

Style: Power metal, progressive metal (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Angra, Symphony X, (Luca Turilli/Lione’s) Rhapsody (Of Fire)
Country: Italy
Release date: 24 January 2025

If you happen to be in Tuscany, for all its cultural delights, between the yearly Battle of the Bridge event in Pisa, lampredotto panini by the duomo in Florence, and the bottomless glasses of Brunello and Montepulciano in its many hillside vineyards, I urge you to take a moment and revel in your surroundings. If you listen carefully, there, echoing from the rolling marble hills of the Apuan Alps, you can hear the faint sounds of power metal as Massa’s Labÿrinth gears up to release their 10th album In The Vanishing Echoes of Goodbye. A high-octane output of progressive, melodic power metal, this no-holds-barred release contains all of the hallmarks of what made this band a staple of the Italian metal scene: virtuosic riffing, high-altitude soaring vocal acrobatics, and machine-gun drumming packaged in creative arrangements and intelligent songwriting. 

The album opens on “Welcome Twilight”, which comes to life with a doomy, heavy riff and floor tom groove, modulating into a gallop where a labyrinthine keyboard/guitar arpeggio twists and turns above. Settling into a double-time feel, guitar maestro Olaf Thörsen’s high-speed precision picking then sets the backdrop for Roberto Tiranti’s expressive vocals. The epic chorus kicks in with dramatic Latin chanting and a memorable hook while the rhythm section keeps a breakneck pace. I have to imagine that seeing these guys live with the strobe lights going while drummer Matt Peruzzi employs his rapid-fire kick bursts would send anyone into an epileptic fit. The guy keeps a pace that would make Aquiles Priester (Edu Falaschi) sweat. 

There’s a technicality here typical of the genre, but In the Vanishing Echoes of Goodbye also showcases more of a heavier side of Labÿrinth with “Heading To Nowhere”, a track that features some clear thrash influence and a riff that wouldn’t feel amiss on an Annihilator disc, and “Accept The Changes” which begins with a minor-key lick and a dark, broody symphonic metal element – but also some decidedly 80s AOR sensibilities with “Out Of Place” and “The Right Side Of This World”: anthemic sing-along choruses and Bon Jovi-esque synth stabs aplenty. “The Healing” presents one of the album’s two power ballads, and it’s brilliantly produced, exhibiting emotional acoustic guitar with excellent cymbal work atop, a hard-hitting sorrowful chorus and tasteful fadeout. The second one, “To The Son I Never Had” is an evocative narrative piece of life advice from a man to his ostensibly hypothetical son; it’s well executed and a more mellow, sentimental, zippo-lighters-swaying-in-the-air type of ballad with only a slight deviation into a hard rocking interlude about 2/3rds of the way through for an inspirational guitar solo. 

The production on this album is massive. Each snare hit resonates through your cranial cavity as the kick drums send mighty pressure waves through your chest. The track listing is purposeful and most songs stand out with increasingly catchy refrains and the oft-featured instantly appealing twin-guitar melodies in true Iron Maiden fashion. The lyrical work is often introspective but sometimes turns outwards to society at large; however, the band struggles to find a way to address it in a manner that avoids coming off as trite. Labÿrinth stated that the record was inspired by the worldwide political turmoil brought about in the wake of the recent pandemic. This latter element is addressed haphazardly in the track “Mass Distraction” where a verse about misinformation includes the line “I recognize bullshit from a thousand miles away” – and “Inhuman Race”, where a clumsily-added, newsroom voiceover about an American “specialized combat vehicle” supplied to Ukraine and captured by Russia during the ongoing war, remarks on its potential consequences over tinkly piano and saccharine falsetto vocalization. It was such a jarring inclusion that I couldn’t help but burst into laughter. It doesn’t match the tone of the track, let alone the album. And it’s such a hamfisted way of bringing up geopolitics on an album that has mostly been about individual passion and personal life experience. But I digress.

Labÿrinth are masters of their art, no doubt about that, and the consummate musicianship of every member is on full display. The compositions are fun and varied, and feature lots of different influences from RATT to Queensrÿche and in between. The self-styled pioneers of Italian prog-power have little and less to apologize for on this release. Far be it from me to tell an artist to keep their noses out of geopolitics or epistemology, but I think there are ways to approach these subjects without falling into the classic pitfalls of banal metaphors or smacking the audience on the head with the point you’re trying to make. Then again, media literacy is becoming scarcer by the day. In The Vanishing Echoes Of Goodbye is an unrelenting and uncompromising release jam-packed with anthemic choruses and hair-raising guitar leads, proving once again why Labÿrinth are principal players in Tuscany, and in the Italian metal scene at large.

Recommended tracks: Welcome Twilight, Heading for Nowhere, The Right Side of This World
You may also like: Vision Divine, DGM, Michele Luppi’s Los Angeles
Final verdict: 8.5/10

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

Label: Frontiers Records – | Facebook | Official Website

Labÿrinth is:
– Roberto Tiranti (vocals)
– Olaf Thörsen (guitars)
– Andrea Cantarelli (guitars)
– Nick Mazzucconi (bass)
– Matt Peruzzi (drums)
– Oleg Smirnoff (keyboards)

The post Review: Labÿrinth – In the Vanishing Echoes of Goodbye appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Album artwork by Gigi Cavalli Cocchi.

Style: Progressive rock, symphonic rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Porcupine Tree, new Opeth, Pink Floyd, Yes
Country: Italy
Release date: 06 December 2024

There are some albums that loudly demand your attention, and others that quietly, politely ask for it. This one does both, but not always in equal measure. What I’ve got here is an Italian prog rock release of epic proportions: The Good Man by Alex Carpani is just two nearly-thirty-minute tracks (also conveniently split by the artist into nine parts each) that span multiple styles and moods from ambient synth and fusion to the more conventional (is that the right word for it?) riffing found across the prog spectrum. Carpani’s influences reverberate throughout this record with enough clarity to evoke certain familiarity and he manages to keep the sound fresh without ever sounding derivative to the point of unoriginality but sometimes can stumble with keeping the listener engaged with its frequently shifting tone and pace. 

There’s a lot to take in on this release. The shifting moods interplay with the changing soundscapes, from heavy to soft, slow to fast, to create a dynamic that gives the album some movement. The Good Man is an album that doesn’t hide behind flashy technical wizardry, but competent musicianship doesn’t necessitate boastful showmanship, as Alex skilfully balances interesting and intricate riffing with emotional weight in the songwriting. Although the album is two singular tracks, there’s a lot of variation within the individual pieces—the two pieces ebb and flow with grace, like the scenes of a movie, often recalling elements that came before and reworking them into something that fits the later narrative. 

On “Amnesiac”, psychedelic Pink Floyd-esque moments of quiet introspection and experimentation are introduced, where background elements take precedence, and atmospheric keyboard work is complemented with a soprano operatic background vocal while the guitar takes a backseat to sentimental string pads. This is contrasted with loud, exuberant heavy guitar sections à la Haken, verses which come in later on “Heart Calling” (“part 7”). Trading emphasis between steady, double-kick triplets, and off-beat, syncopated staccato riffing over soaring keyboard leads, these kinds of feel changes add a sense of dynamism and help give a long track a feeling of momentum. 

On “Good and Evil”, the pace slows down a bit. It’s a little more reserved, with fleeting moments of effervescence – the occasional energetic Steven Wilson-ey, new-Opeth-ish heavy part coming in after long periods of contemplative mulling about. I liked this contrast on “Amnesiac”; I was less fond of it a second time around. It felt more like a continuation of the first track that did little to move the album along than a wholly separate one. The various movements for the most part all kind of lull you into a trance; first slow, then upbeat, then slow again. Although it makes for a very cohesive, very consistent listen, there just wasn’t enough to differentiate from the first 28 minutes to really grab a hold of me. However, there were some interesting moments like “Flirting With Darkness”: an enthusiastic rock break that provides a bit of renewed energy after the aptly named “Stillness and Ecstasy” (emphasis mine) – and “Mystical”, where after a string-backed word from the late Pope John Paul II, we spontaneously break into fugue. As a pipe organ toccata channels Bach, the percussion section thunders in with bass accompaniment, breaking into what could almost be considered neoclassical prog, and delineating this as what I felt was the highlight of the album. The song has several more transitions between slow and fast, deciding on a more upbeat rock sound on the final track “Everything Falls Into Place” with heavily effected reverberant guitar melodies and saxophone, before sliding into more abstract ambient territory for the album finale.

Alex Carpani has been around the block some, he certainly doesn’t need my validation here; I have the utmost respect for what he tried to do with this project and to say I didn’t enjoy it would be unfair as there are certainly moments I keep going back to, and parts of these two tracks that have made my regular rotation. Ultimately, though, The Good Man as a whole failed to resonate with me in a manner that I felt significant. I commend the work of his band and in particular, mezzo-soprano Valentina Vanini, whose contributions to this album cannot be overstated. A rather pensive release, with moments of bombast peppered throughout, Alex Carpani has crafted the thinking man’s prog rock album, but its unhurried nature might test the patience of those looking for more urgency and a swifter pace.

Recommended tracks: “Amnesiac Part 2 Perfect Chaos”, “Amnesiac Part 9 End Of The Day”, “Good and Evil Part 5 Flirting With Darkness”, “Good and Evil Part 9 Everything Falls Apart”
You may also like: Wounded Knee, Osanna, Karmamoi
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Independent Artist Records

Alex Carpani is:
– Alex Carpani (vocals, keyboards, production)

The post Review: Alex Carpani – The Good Man 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: Melodic death metal, symphonic metal, progressive metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Septicflesh, Orphaned Land, Fleshgod Apocalypse, Haggard
Review by: Francesco
Country: England, UK
Release date: 1 September 2024

Immaterial Eden is the debut release from Melehan, a solo project of UK-native Charles Phillip Withall. An incredibly ambitious first offering, Immaterial Eden blends influences from symphonic metal and melodic death metal with intricate musicianship and engaging compositional structure to create an immense sound. From ecclesiastical choirs and lonesome trombone, to reverberant timpani and haunting, rich piano, this album takes you on a journey through massive soundscapes. Glue it all together with tight riffing and furious drumming, and you have one of the most interesting releases of the year.

Withall’s musicianship can in no way be overstated. He is credited as performing everything on the album, and he competently navigates his way around glockenspiels, synthesizers, strings, horns, drums; you get the idea. The man’s some type of savant—like Rain Man, but for metal songwriting. Immaterial Eden has so many standout moments in its forty-seven minute runtime I can hardly remember them all – but some of my favourites are the trance synth lead in “The Cost of Being Alive” (an element which is sadly never reintroduced), the Italian canto in “The Dark Prince”, and the melancholy solo horn section in “The Giants’ Gaze, Pt. I”. 

The album flows from straight-forward melodic death metal sections, to flamenco-inspired classical guitar passages, to more symphonic metal crescendos and codas without ever breaking a stride – I’m reminded a lot of an Orphaned Land or Septicflesh with more of a western classical sensibility, maybe similar to but not as frenetic as Fleshgod Apocalypse. The compositions are riveting, and the symphony instruments add a layer of complexity and sound amazing – no terrible MIDI patches detected here. And the horns are played so well that one struggles to tell if it’s an expression controller or the real thing. I also commend the lyricism, which for the most part is thought-provoking and esoteric. Thematically very introspective, Immaterial Eden touches on despair and apathy in the human condition with rather cryptic prose, but sometimes delves into the more mythological or even theological, as in the Latin responsory “O vos omnes” quoted in “The Dark Prince”. 

Still, no great album is without fault. One of the qualms I had with Immaterial Eden was with the inclusion of an overabundance of melodrama when sometimes the clean vocals are allowed to take precedence. The clean singing (which reminds me somewhat of Borknagar and ex-Dimmu Borgir vocalist ICS Vortex¹) might be the weakest part of this album as some of the harmonies are pitchy to the point of being wildly discordant², and I wonder if for all his merit Withall wouldn’t benefit from someone else taking over the clean vocal duties. On a similar note, the intro to “The Cathedral in the Sand” breaks the flow of what is overall a very strongly paced album with solo reverberant piano and lamenting vocals singing about haunted cemeteries of the mind and shrivelled leaves… Maybe it’s just me who doesn’t like emotional ballads in his death metal, but I always found myself skipping to the heavy part. And then there’s the inaudible bass playing. Not to say that this is an album where the bass is meant to shine, but it does become kind of a trope at this point. 

In spite of that, Immaterial Eden is a super impressive one-man endeavour, and I think I would struggle to find other solo projects of this caliber. The blending of genres is expertly accomplished in a way that seems almost effortless. I would love to know if our man Withall has a background in music because this is such an impeccably well put-together work that juggles so many moving parts it’s like a circus act. This album runs better than my city’s transit system, voted Best Transit System in North America in 2017³. A worthwhile listen for any lover of progressive metal and melodic death or symphonic metal. 

Recommended tracks: “The Cost of Being Alive”, “The Dark Prince”, “The Giants Gaze, Pt. II”
You may also like: Godiva, Sakis Tollis, Mencea
Final verdict: 9/10

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

Label: Independent / Unsigned

band in question is:
– Charles Phillip Withall (everything)

1. Can’t stand him ︎
2. See the 1:51 mark of “The Product of the Masterflesh” ︎
3. Which was a complete farce but this IS a great album ︎

The post Missed Album Review: Melehan – Immaterial Eden appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Thrash metal, progressive metal (mixed vocals; primarily harsh)
Recommended for fans of: Coroner, Vektor, Annihilator
Review by: Francesco
Country: USA
Release date: 28 November 2024

Anarchÿ is a thrash duo from St. Louis, Missouri, releasing their third full-length in as many years, Xenötech and the Cosmic Anarchÿ. This sci-fi concept album details the efforts of an ambassador of humanity to a technologically-advanced extraterrestrial race as they try and unify all existence. Neat. Their last works have been exceptional examples of a rather eclectic style of thrash metal, and Xenötech doesn’t stray too far from the mould they’ve created but it does incorporate certain elements that this reviewer might call… experimental. They don’t always land. I would say that Xenötech and the Cosmic Anarchÿ starts off strong then begins to stumble off a ledge somewhere in the middle and catches its footing for the second half – but for the most part, the album is another release that the two guys can pat themselves on the back for. 

Overall, the album is chock-full of pretty well balls-to-the-wall thrash terrorizers: the classic Anarchÿ compositional style we’ve come to love over the last few releases has its foundation firmly cemented on this album as well. They’ve developed a recognizable style that often features half-time melodic measures that introduce leitmotifs, then lead into a more traditional double-time section with highly complicated riffing that leads back into the previously introduced motifs. I’m a sucker for call-and-answer musical themes, so anytime Anarchÿ injects a melody line that comes back later, oftentimes more furious, it never fails to bring me great joy. Still, as I stated earlier, there are some moments of questionable merit on this release.

At certain points in the middle of Xenötech, Anarchÿ decide to experiment with particular elements that tend to interrupt the flow a little bit (or a lot bit) and leave me scratching my head or reaching for the fast-forward button. I know it’s progressive metal, but certainly not every idea is a good one, and congruence is important, lest it all devolve into, well… anarchy. On “Vivisection / Salvation” a soft female vocal accompanies the moody acoustic guitar intro, then is brought back at the end in kind of a half-time, marching polka feel – a jarring inclusion that really took me out of the track. There is a passage in “A.M.F.” that introduces a very-aggressively-MIDI string quartet playing in mutating time signatures. I wonder if the sound was a deliberate choice, considering the plethora of available VSTs (software instrument plugins) that might be able to produce a better, more realistic reproduction of the strings. And in “Extraterrestrial Collaboration” they inject a drum and bass-style breakbeat to transition into the latter-half of the track, and then end the track with a longer breakbeat section. It’s all very subversive, but I don’t know if I’d call it progressive.

Nevertheless, there are plenty of redeeming qualities on this album, and some classic Anarchÿ moments that really stand out. I particularly enjoyed the second half of “The Gallery of Quantum Carrion”; the way they transition out of the solo into three separate and distinct movements including an acoustic guitar break and a harmonized twin-guitar lead that fades into a beautiful, Romantic piano piece demonstrates perfectly well the duo’s meticulously-honed technical ability and compositional skill. Another standout moment for me was the neoclassical-inspired “Entangled / Enlightened” that samples from Chopin’s “Marche Funèbre” and some others. And I feel I’d be remiss without mentioning the 12-minute album closer “I Am the Universe,” which contains some of the most melodic riffing on the whole release; possibly the catchiest refrains; a very moody, Ravi Shankar-y, pensive middle-section with clean female vocals, and more Chopin worship. 

Xenötech and the Cosmic Anarchÿ is more of what I’ve come to love from Anarchÿ, with some minor pitfalls that did somewhat curb my enjoyment of the release, but that didn’t detract too much from the overall experience. I probably wouldn’t go back-to-front on this one again, but there are certainly moments I’m eager to revisit, riffs I’d love to learn, and likely some “A-ha!” musical references that I feel I’m on the verge of divining. Another worthwhile listen from the St. Louis duo. One small request for the team: I’d love to see Bouzikov make a return for the next cover art.

Recommended tracks: Nelson’s Cosmos of Thought, Entangled / Enlightened, The Gallery of Quantum Carrion
You may also like: VENUS, Quasarborn, Vexovoid
Final verdict: 8/10

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

Label: Independent

Anarchÿ is:
– Fionn McAuliffe (vocals, bass, breakbeats)
– Reese Tiller (guitars, bass, keyboards, sitar)

The post Review: Anarchÿ – Xenötech and the Cosmic Anarchÿ appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Traditional progressive metal, progressive rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Symphony X, Haken, Vision Divine
Country: Italy
Release date: 18 October 2024

It doesn’t seem to have been a quiet year for DGM: the Italian prog metallers are back at it again after eleven short months with their latest release Endless, a bombastic and energetic offering in their unmistakable, inimitable style. The almost hour-long experience draws on influences from progressive rock, jazz fusion, and folk, maintaining a sound that sits well within the progressive metal spectrum overall. With soaring vocals, twisty-turny guitar licks, memorable hooks and emotional instrumental passages, DGM pulls no punches on this performance, delivering what I consider to be one of their best works to date. 

From the start of the first track “Promises”, to the end of the album closer “…Of Endless Echoes,” DGM’s Endless flows almost effortlessly as the songs lead expertly into one another. The pounding aggression of “The Wake” followed with a much needed reprieve in the reverberant acoustic guitar with jazz flute accompaniment that is the intro to “Solitude;” a piece that crescendos into one of the best choruses on the album, and ends with the same moody acoustic, flute, and piano that were featured in the intro – before the energy picks up with the speedy keyboard passage that establishes the pace of “From Ashes.” There’s something about Endless that gives a summery vibe; for me, it’s the way guitarist Simone Mularoni uses bright major chord voicings over vibrant synth patches and melodic, up-tempo violin phrases. It lends an optimistic and hopeful sound to the music that makes it the kind of album I want to blast while driving my convertible to the beach through Italy’s winding mountain roads.

Endless blends progressive metal with some prog rock, jazz fusion, and folk influence with the inclusion of some interspersed flute and violin passages, both played by DGM’s keyboard wizard Emanuele Casali. This folk element is most notable during the break in the middle of the track “Final Call,” where an orientalist musical theme is introduced, while a jazz flute component is evident throughout; the flute often playing staccato notes behind heavy, palm-muted guitar as in  the track “Solitude.” Emanuele also loves to make use of bright piano tones, using them to accentuate more emotive passages like the latter half of “Solitude” and throughout the album’s ballad “Blank Pages.” Prior to release, DGM teased that they would be experimenting with a new sound, and although I’d call it quite a conservative experimentation, I’d say it worked out: the classic DGM sound is solidly established but these instrumental flourishes breathe wonderful new life into it.

The songwriting prowess of guitarist Simone and keyboardist Emanuele, both listed as composers, cannot be understated here. The album’s quality doesn’t waver from start to finish and holds up well on subsequent listens. Even the album’s power ballad “Blank Pages”—and I usually hate ballads (all great metal power ballads have already been written by 80s hair bands)—I could find no fault in, especially when singer Mark Basile delivers each line with exceptional clarity and masterfully makes you feel every emotion and every experience he’s been through. His is a voice so emotive and so capable, and I can think of no better suited vocalist for this band. 

As I listen back, I find myself wishing they’d thrown a couple of songs in Italian into the mix. Italy has such a rich and diverse musical culture and the language has by so many people often been described as being musical, that it’s almost a shame when another Italian group chooses to sing in English. I suppose it’s done for International audiences, but would an established group such as DGM really falter if they took a chance like that? Is it ‘progressive’ to play the safe bet and stick to English? This has long been my gripe with Italian metal bands as a whole. There’s only a handful who will release works in Italian; usually lesser-known outfits whose market is primarily if not wholly located within the boundaries of the peninsula, e.g. Folkstone (folk metal) or Wounded Knee (prog rock/metal). Some better-known international acts like DGM themselves tend to stick to English. What part of Italian culture are you exporting at that point? A strong Italian progressive rock music scene (aptly titled rock progressivo Italiano) has been around since the 70s, and no doubt has influenced countless groups within the current Italian rock and metal scene. I would love for modern progressive bands from Italy to embrace that history rather than the trend of singing in a foreign tongue that practically the whole of Europe (with [mostly] the exception of Spain) does. But I digress.

This is an album worthy of high praise, with DGM doing what they do best at the highest level, and innovating with new and original elements that add shine and polish to an already well-oiled machine. Despite the short wait time, it doesn’t feel like a rushed production. From the two singles “The Great Unknown” and “Final Call”, to the 14-minute album closer “…Of Endless Echoes,” each song brings a unique energy that causes the album to ebb and flow; its peaks and valleys recalling the seven hills of Rome. Endless is one of the best Italian prog metal releases of the last four years.

Recommended tracks: Final Call, The Great Unknown, From Ashes
You may also like: Labyrinth, Inner Vitriol, New Horizons
Final verdict: 9.9/10

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

Label: Frontiers Records – Facebook | Official Website

DGM is:
– Marco Basile (vocals)
– Simone Mularoni (guitars)
– Emanuele Casali (keyboards)
– Andrea Arcangeli – (bass)
– Fabio Constantino (drums)

The post Review: DGM – Endless appeared first on The Progressive Subway.