Style: Neo-Prog, Prog Punk (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: ELP, Ben Folds Five, Rush
Country: Georgia, United States
Release date: 2 May 2025

Philosophically speaking, “progressive rock” and “punk” are two genres of music almost diametrically opposed to each other. The former is characterized by compositional complexity, virtuosic musicianship, and highfalutin, fantastical lyrical themes. The latter by raw energy, with fast, short songs; urgent, often politically-charged lyrics; and performers who typically spend more time crowdsurfing than practicing their instruments. So when I picked up A Shout Into the Void, the latest album by Atlanta, Georgia’s Great Wide Nothing, I was intrigued by their self-applied “prog punk” label.

What does “prog punk” sound like?

It depends who you ask. Many consider Cardiacs to be the quintessential prog punk act—their 1996 album Sing to God seamlessly grafts the frantic energy of punk rock onto the baroque arrangements of classic prog. In the early-to-mid 2000s, The Mars Volta released a slew of extremely dense, instrumentally virtuosic albums, heavily inspired by hardcore and post-hardcore punk. They and their ilk in the progressive post-hardcore scene could also fall under a “prog punk” umbrella. Still others label post-punk bands like Talking Heads as prog punk: inspired by punk, but breaking the boundaries of the genre in myriad ways.

Great Wide Nothing would be more accurately labeled “neo-prog”—the prog-offshoot genre from the 1980s which chopped the song lengths down and opted for harder-hitting, more radio-friendly tunes, instead of the ten-to-twenty minute keyboard epics of a decade prior. Fans of 80s Rush, in particular, might appreciate parts of A Shout Into The Void. The synth-heavy, bass-forward tracks on this album share some DNA in common with albums like Grace Under Pressure and Power Windows.

The opening track, “Utopia”, gives a tantalising introduction to what Great Wide Nothing are capable of, particularly in the outro: gentle keys abruptly stop, making way for sticky synths, with weighty bass and pounding drums pushing through like electric mixer paddles into cake batter. The bass tone here is on point (and Geddy-reminiscent). The rhythm section cleanly breaks into a chorus of airy keys, repeated again and again, like a call to battle, cultivating a serious, driving energy. The same can be said of “One Thousand Eyes”, where locked-in drums, crisp bass, and competent synth work propel the song into a catchy walking riff that wouldn’t be out of place on a classic prog record by any of the greats. These songs have an infectious forward momentum, they’re mixed well, and the production reflects a meticulous attention to detail.

But lyrically, A Shout Into the Void is no Grace Under Pressure. It instead comes across as overly sincere—a bit too on-the-nose. On “Utopia”, the band eschew cynicism and yearn for a brighter future: “what the fuck is the point … If it’s not for the sake of the common defense against death and decay? … It’s only a question of willingness.” “The Parting of Ways” is a letter to a loved one who has, psychologically (politically?), moved so far away from the narrator that they feel there is no other option but to cut ties. “Shout Into the Void”, the album’s final track, cries, “I don’t think I’ll live to change the world, or maybe even make a difference”, singing for the sake of it, even if it’s all for naught. This earnest naïveté, combined with a cliché here or there, makes the whole album feel sophomoric.

That amateurish clumsiness comes across in the vocals, as well as the lyrics. Phrases are sometimes cut short when they could have been held a tick longer. Vowels are not as round as they should be. Overwhelmingly, though, the main issue is a lack of emphasis, of singing from the diaphragm. This makes the vocals feel weak; the vocalist, uncommitted. Entering with a “what the fuck is the point?” on the first track, I knew I would have reservations about this album—I’ve been in bands where the instrumentalists, the arrangement, and the production were all on point, but the vocals were lacking oomph. It can make listening to a record unenjoyable—cringey, even. In many ways, A Shout Into The Void reminds me of my younger self, in a band with a good amount of talent, but uncomfortably amateurish vocals. I know what it’s like to sit in a recording studio and listen to someone with little technique and even less confidence sing-shout into a microphone. And what it’s like to be that person. It’s not fun. The self-applied “prog punk” label feels like a preemptive defense against critics who would otherwise focus on those vocals. Punk does not demand classically-trained vocalists, sure, but Great Wide Nothing sound otherwise punk in very few ways (their songs are a bit fast and they say “fuck” a few times).

A Shout Into the Void is a disappointment. Instrumentally, it is competent if not impressive. Its tracks are packed full of catchy riffs and melodies. The production and mixing are entirely unblemished. It has such potential to be a fast, loud, modern prog rock record, but it’s held back by vocals which are frankly quite difficult to listen to. Great Wide Nothing, I beg you, don’t make the same mistake I did. Find a singer and rebrand, before it’s too late.

Recommended tracks: One Thousand Eyes
You may also like: Cardiacs, Paradigm Blue, Kick the Giant
Final verdict: 5/10

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

Label: Independent

Great Wide Nothing is:
– Daniel Graham – bass, vocals, lyrics
– Dylan Porper – keyboards, vocals
– Jeff Matthews – drums, vocals

The post Review: Great Wide Nothing – A Shout Into the Void appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: progressive rock, neo-prog, soft rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Transatlantic, Genesis, Yes, Neal Morse, Spock’s Beard
Country: Sweden
Release date: 2 May 2025

In the contexts of politics, education, the visual arts, and various other disciplines, the term “progressive” has a similar connotation to terms like “forward-thinking” or “experimental”. In this tradition, and in the context of rock music, the mid-1960s saw the term “progressive” being attached to compositions with more complex structure, new and unusual instrumentation¹, and virtuosic instrumental performances. The term “progressive rock” was coined in 1968 and the label was applied to some of the biggest rock bands of the next decade.

But the very act of defining a new genre of music solidifies it. Today, “progressive rock” and “experimental rock” evoke two quite different styles. Even at the end of the 1970s, when the heyday of progressive rock was nearing its end, the genre had become a caricature of itself. But as any street fair or amusement park will attest to, some people eat that shit up. Self-proclaimed “progressive” rockers The Flower Kings’ latest album, LOVE, seems—superficially, at least—to fall into those well-worn ruts of 1960s-style prog rock. But is there anything under that veneer? Was this caricature painted by Paulie, down on the Atlantic City boardwalk? Or Picasso?

LOVE ticks many of the boxes on the progressive rock checklist…

synths heavily featured on basically every song
multiple seven-plus-minute-long pieces
unusual percussion (wood blocks, marimba, glockenspiel)
instrumental and lyrical reprises across multiple tracks

…and at times is quite reminiscent of classic prog acts; “World Spinning” is like a lower-energy version of ELP’s “Hoedown”; the outro of “Burning Both Edges” could be a reference to the intro of Rush’s “Xanadu”, but without Neil Peart’s varied percussion; around 7:15 in “Kaiser Razor”, there’s a riff that sounds almost identical to the one at 3:55 in Genesis’ “Firth of Fifth”.

While The Flower Kings (consciously or otherwise) pay homage to their forebears on LOVE, they lack the compositional prowess which propelled those acts into the prog rock pantheon in the first place. On “We Claim the Moon”, a four-phrase melody is introduced early on, played in sync by guitar, bass, synth, and percussion. That exact musical idea is repeated as-is three times in the first ninety seconds of this six-and-a-half-minute track, and then abandoned wholesale—it is never repeated again. Just after this, a shorter, eight-note phrase is introduced, and that phrase is repeated twenty times throughout the remainder of the song. Neither of these two extremes is ideal. Despite the proverb which states otherwise, familiarity breeds appreciation: listeners want hooks, callbacks, and reprises. At the same time, we need a bit of variation to maintain interest. This is something that the aforementioned “Firth of Fifth” does so well: a primary melody is repeated multiple times throughout the song, but at different tempos and with different timbres as it’s played on different instruments. This keeps the listener engaged without boring them. Safe to say, The Flower Kings are no Genesis.

The dynamic range of LOVE leaves something to be desired, as well. For comparison, consider a piece like Yes‘s “Close to the Edge”: the first minute is almost entirely birdsong and chimes; then absolutely frenetic synths, driving bass, and frantic guitars; then a vocal break into a mellower, airy section; another break into an almost reggae-inspired verse, and so on. This wide variety of moods is nowhere to be found on LOVE, let alone in quick succession in a single song. Consider the introductions of a few tracks on this album: “The Elder” has a tempo of 112 bpm and begins slowly with vocals, bells, and piano; “The Phoenix” has a tempo of 120 bpm and begins slowly with strings, acoustic guitar, and vocals; “The Promise” has a tempo of 127 bpm and begins slowly with acoustic guitar and vocals. Some people might say they’ve written the same song eleven times for this album, but they’d be lying, it’s actually the same song twelve times.

Now, dear reader, you may think that it is unfair of me to compare The Flower Kings to prog rock legends like Yes, Genesis, and Rush, as I’ve done above. Let me tell you why it’s not: The Flower Kings call themselves “prog-rock legends” in their own Spotify bio. If that’s not an invitation to compare them to the greats, then I do not know what is.

All of that being said, there are a few small highlights on LOVE, but they come with caveats. The two instrumental tracks, “World Spinning” and “Kaiser Razor” are good examples. These are the two fastest tracks on the album (both exceeding 230 bpm), bringing a breath of fresh air to the otherwise steady trudge through seventy-one minutes of low-energy prog rock. “World Spinning” is a vibrant synth solo that pulls you in and then stops far too abruptly—an obvious missed opportunity. “Kaiser Razor” is also infectious: the main riff is a climb up a scale, repeated over and over, building up to… again, nothing. The song just kind of disintegrates after about two minutes. Both of these tracks feel like they are incredible seeds of ideas, which hadn’t yet been fully fleshed out before they were recorded as-is for LOVE.

The Flower Kings’ LOVE is a surface-level tribute to a nearly sixty-year-old genre of music. It lacks both the dynamism and the compositional acuity of the prior art which inspired it. LOVE is like the generic version of your favourite brand-name prog rock acts—it may contain the same ingredients, but it doesn’t have quite the same flavour. After LOVE, you’ll soon find yourself reaching for “real” progressive rock to get that imitation taste out of your mouth.

Recommended Tracks: Kaiser Razor, We Claim the Moon
You may also like: Neal Morse Band, Pattern-Seeking Animals, Jacob Roberge, Cosmic Cathedral
Final verdict: 4.5/10

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

Label: InsideOutMusic – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

The Flower Kings is

• Mirko DeMaio (Drums, Percussion)
• Lalle Larson (Grand Piano, Rhodes Piano, Hammond B3 & Synthesizers)
• Hans Fröberg (Vocals)
• Michael Stolt (Bass, Moogbass, Vocals)
• Roine Stolt (Vocals, Electric & Acoustic 6 & 12-string Guitars, Ukulele)

LOVE also features

• Hasse Bruniusson (Percussion)
• Jannica Lund (Vocals)
• Aliaksandr Yasinski (Accordion)

1. The Moog synthesizer, a staple of 1970s progressive rock, only began to be mass-produced in 1967, and was therefore genuinely cutting-edge at the time. The Doors’ “Strange Days” (1967) is an early example of its usage. ︎

The post Review: The Flower Kings – LOVE appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Hyperpop, Progressive Pop (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Poppy, Crystal Castles, Purity Ring, Phantogram, Frosting-era Bent Knee
Country: New York, United States
Release date: 4 April 2025

Sleigh Bells are a band that—in the consciousness of many—belong solidly in the 2010s. The smash hit off their debut album Treats, “Rill Rill”, wasn’t released as a single but was featured in an iPhone commercial, tearing to the top of their most-streamed songs, where it still sits today. But for the past decade and a half, these harbingers of heady hyperpop have continued quietly crafting their own brand of rule-bending rock. Bunky Becky Birthday Boy, the latest full-length album from the duo, is a confident continuation of that progressive spirit, bubbling away just beneath the crust of mainstream pop.

Treats introduced Sleigh Bells’ unique blend of pop and noise rock to the world, wriggling right into the then-nascent hyperpop party. Tracks like “Infinity Guitars” and “A/B Machines” rely heavily on the production style: vocals and drums are clipped and distorted, giving an overall raw, fuzzy feeling. The follow-up album, Reign of Terror, ditches the clipping, opting for a cleaner overall sound, but maintains the same fusion of genres at the core of the previous album. Sleigh Bells‘ four intervening releases have maintained this momentum: the band may not have branched out, but they have definitely refined their core sound to the point of near perfection.

“Bunky Pop”, the lead single off Bunky, is the rousing result of that refinement. It is far and away the catchiest song Sleigh Bells have ever written. A veritable avalanche of hooks, it positively pummels the listener with sweet-and-sour synthesizers; short, snappy, alliterative lyrical lines; pounding programmed percussion; and clean-cut choruses of delicately distorted strings. Multiple key changes, abrupt transitions, and crystal-clear production make “Bunky Pop” the audible equivalent of a Kandinsky: everything is all over the place, but that is far from accidental. Each element has been planted with perfect precision: Alexis Krauss’s clean alto vocals contrast with Derek E. Miller’s New York style, in-your-face talk-singing; the introductory synthesizer melody is repeated multiple times with slight variations in various timbres, getting more distorted and eerie with each repetition, like your friendly local birthday clown slowly transforming into Stephen King’s Pennywise. If there was ever any doubt that Sleigh Bells are the pinnacle of post-pandemic progressive pop, “Bunky” absolutely annihilates that assertion.

The second single, “Wanna Start A Band?”, is only marginally less magnetic. If “Bunky” leans all the way into Sleigh Bells‘ pop sensibilities, “Wanna Start A Band?” dials it back just a touch, exploring moderately more experimental ground with its front-and-centre microtonal synths. The keys also take a lead role in “Hi Someday”, a vaporwave-inspired track on the back half of Bunky. While most of the band’s oeuvre is propelled primarily by percussion, “Hi Someday” is mainly built atop driving, twangy 80s-style synths, not unlike those found on tracks by artists like Carpenter Brut. Sleigh Bells are at their best when they are pushing boundaries (both self-imposed and in general); they are at their least compelling when they fall into their comfort zone of bog-standard pop rock.

Unfortunately, while Bunky opens and closes strongly, it fails to maintain that consistency throughout: the tracks in the middle third of the album are all a bit samey, and therefore fail to be memorable. “This Summer”, “Can I Scream”, and “Badly” are perfectly cromulent pop songs, but they all have that familiar verse-chorus pop structure, one or two big hooks, and not much else. This has a cloying effect, like eating one too many desserts in quick succession; you start to get sick of it. When your album is only thirty-two minutes long, you’ve got to give me more than one course, quickly. One cannot survive on empty calories alone.

The bulk of Bunky is built on bedrock familiar to fans of the band: Krauss’ deft vocals glide effortlessly atop Miller’s pop-rock soundscapes; double-time bass pedalling abruptly stops to give space for a massive bass drop; and layered keys and guitars build a sonic nest that gently carries a whole horde of hooks. The soul of Sleigh Bells is on full display, and never has it been more concrete or thoroughly distilled than on Bunky Becky Birthday Boy.

Recommended tracks: Bunky Pop, Wanna Start A Band?, Hi Someday
You may also like: Black Dresses, Rubblebucket, Tune-Yards, The Weeknd’s Hurry Up Tomorrow for a different kind of progressive pop
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Mom + Pop – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Sleigh Bells is:
– Alexis Krauss (vocals, production)
– Derek E. Miller (bass, percussion, guitar, synthesizer, production, engineering)
With guests:
– Kate Steinberg (touring musician; backing vocals, keyboards)

The post Review: Sleigh Bells – Bunky Becky Birthday Boy appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Art Rock, Alternative Rock, Experimental Rock (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Gogol Bordello, The Darkness, Scissor Sisters
Country: Ohio, United States
Release date: 20 March 2025

Fans of heavy, off-kilter, piano-driven rock in the mid aughts needed to look no further than Foxy Shazam to satisfy their cravings. The band exploded onto the scene with a pair of infectious progressive post-hardcore-inspired albums before polishing their sound and breaking into the mainstream with 2010’s arena rock anthem “Unstoppable”: heard in movies and on TV and licensed in some capacity by nearly every major professional sports league in the United States. But the band’s fifth album, Gonzo, marked a drastic change of sound, trading the energy and glam of their earlier work for a mellower flavour of alternative rock. Reception seemed less than stellar – Foxy Shazam released Gonzo for free, cut their promotional tour short, and went on hiatus shortly thereafter.

Since returning in 2020, the band have put out a handful of forgettable albums; their heavy, progressive roots seemed all but shriveled and dead. But in late January of this year, Foxy released the first single from their new album, Animality Opera, “Rhumbatorium”. And let me tell you, dear reader, that irreverent, energetic, experimental single provided a glimmer of hope.  Was it a return to form? Had the erratic, in-your-face Foxy Shazam of days gone by finally returned?

Nope.

The title, Animality Opera, must be purposefully ironic because this latest work is neither operatic nor animalistic. “Pink Sky”, the second single from the album, is reminiscent of their Gonzo era: milquetoast alternative rock that sounds like it was written specifically to be played in grocery stores, save for a spoken word outro featuring sophomoric, nonsensical lines like “nobody wants to be the rock inside of the clown’s sock”. Foxy have done the spoken word shtick before, but it is noticeably more prominent (and irritating) on this latest release. “Karaoke Pain” is a perfect example of the stylistic rut Foxy have found themselves in for the past decade; the pre-chorus begins with the lyrics “this is the part where we can lose control, the place where we can just let that shit go” and leads into… nothing. No soaring vocals, no wild guitar solo, not even a piano slide or a drum fill. Instead, just a sparse, phoned-in vocal performance. Twice we are teased with the possibility of actually losing control and twice we are let down. Fool me once…

Moments of inspired songwriting exist in Animality Opera, but they are few and far between. The piano-driven ballad “Uncreated” is a highlight in this sense: it builds slowly, adding tastefully muted guitar, strings, and horns, building repeatedly to a moderate vocal climax. The lyrics are equal parts truly beautiful (“Take it all away, you can see on forever. Silhouettes of the days we shared hold me together.”) and goofy (“Even in the Starbucks bathroom, this will never change.”). “Uncreated” is a microcosm of the softer side of Foxy Shazam; and is thankfully free of the ill-conceived spoken word sections which mar many of the tracks on this album.

But “Rhumbatorium” is the standout track on Animality. It’s dynamic, energetic, and catchy; but mainly it’s just plain fun. Foxy have been taking themselves too seriously and it’s nice to see them let loose again. Lyrically, “Rhumbatorium” gets straight to the point: “All music is shit and the world is a toilet bowl. Sit down on the throne and push out some rock and roll.” It’s hard to tell if Foxy are having a go at the rest of the music industry or are just being defensive here. The next line is “I don’t know, I just don’t get it. Well then it’s not for you.” More than one track on Animality seems to take aim at the naysayers: earlier on the album “You Don’t Judge The Birds” asks “Why are they so mean? What did I do wrong? … You don’t judge the birds for singing in the morning.” That’s true, but the birds aren’t charging thirty bucks per performance.

Animality is otherwise mostly devoid of the raw energy that characterized Foxy‘s early career and the operatic bombast that came after. “Joseph” and “Dragonfly Chase” would be impressive if they were written by your roommate’s band, but they’re just not up to the (admittedly high) bar Foxy set for themselves with their earlier releases. They push no boundaries. They take no risks. “Jack Tar” is reminiscent of—but less polished than—Arctic Monkeys‘ Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino… and just when you thought you’d gotten away from them, those damned spoken word sections return. They add nothing. They detract from whatever energy these songs are trying to build.

By and large, Animality Opera feels phoned in. Following four other unremarkable albums over the past decade, Foxy seem to be doing everything they can to avoid repeating the success they had in 2010. Is it artistic bankruptcy? Is it laziness? Is it an extended performance art piece where the band are trying to see how many aggressively mediocre albums they can put out in a row while still maintaining some semblance of a fan base? Who’s to say. All I know is that heavy metal sucks and Foxy Shazam’s dead.

R.I.P.

Recommended tracks: Rhumbatorium, Uncreated
You may also like: Jellyfish, The Venetia Fair
Final verdict: 3.5/10

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

Label: EEEOOOAH – Facebook

Foxy Shazam is:
– Eric Nally (vocals)
– Schuyler “Sky” White (keyboards)
– Alex Nauth (horns, backing vocals)
– Teddy Aitkins (drums)
– Existential Youth (formerly known as Trigger Warning and The Persistent Savage) (bass guitar)
– Devin Williams (guitar)

The post Review: Foxy Shazam – Animality Opera appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Style: Free-Form Jazz, Atmospheric, Post-Rock (instrumental)
Recommended for fans of: Pink Floyd, Swans, Explosions in the Sky, Prostitute
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: 20 February 2025

In Irish mythology, Tír na nÓg is the “Otherworld”, the “Land of the Young”. There, time passes a hundred times as quickly as in our world. Mortals sometimes visit Tír na nÓg, but if and when they return to Earth, they immediately regain all the years they missed. Oisín, an Irish warrior giant, spends three years in Tír na nÓg, returns to Ireland, touches the ground, and ages three hundred years in an instant, dying of old age and turning to dust. You wouldn’t know any of this from listening to this album though, because it’s got no lyrics whatsoever. If that sounds like a missed opportunity to include some kick-ass storytelling, you’d be correct. But don’t worry, there are missed opportunities instrumentally, as well.

Anyone who’s been in a band knows that you should always record your jam sessions, just in case something interesting springs to life during one of them. Back in my day, we would take those recordings, extract the better ideas, and write songs around them. But it seems like that’s not what the kids are into now: Tír na nÓg, the latest EP from Mancunians Maruja, is a jam recording like this, but released as-is. Straying from their usual punk / spoken word / rap schtick, Maruja recorded this fully-improvised album in a single take this past autumn.

Despite its lack of structure – intentional or otherwise – Maruja use Tír na nÓg as an opportunity to showcase their talent for writing really impactful atmospheric post-rock. Throughout Tír na nÓg, wailing saxophone, sparse guitar, and otherworldly vocal chants create an exotic, expansive feeling, like a desert sunrise that sits atop the earthy, mechanical rhythm section. This album would not be out of place on your Dune-themed Spotify playlist.

The saxophone lays the ethereal foundation of Tír na nÓg early on. Slowly slithering onto “Aon” around the one-minute mark, it grows increasingly intense and frenetic, while the guitars shine and shimmer like beaded curtains in the morning sun. Howling vocals join the scene and the whole track revs like an engine, then fades. “Dó” reiterates much of the energy of “Aon”, but is followed by “Trí”, which slows to a crawl, nearly stopping;, mechanically yowling, like an android falling to its knees as sand and corrosion finally grind its gears to a halt. “Ceathair”, the closing track, is an elegy, somberly echoing the first half of the album, remembering what was once full of energy and vitality and is now at rest.

Maruja‘s Tír na nÓg is an obviously-improvised work. It contains a handful of compelling musical ideas, but they often don’t lead anywhere. For instance, a crescendo near the end of the first track, “Aon”, leads into… another crescendo, and then another. An interesting saxophone melody appears partway through the second track, “Dó”; the drummer latches on to it and plays an imitative rhythm, then the saxophonist moves on to their next idea, but the drummer continues that rhythm for quite a while. When it’s obvious that nobody is coming back to it, he moves on as well. The drums and saxophone drive much of the dynamism of the piece, and the other instrumentalists tend to follow their lead, but for the most part this album sounds like a group of people playing at the same time—not together.

Tír na nÓg feels like it comes from the Land of the Young – it’s unpolished (which seems intentional) and amateurish (presumably unintentional). The Platonic prescription to “carve nature at the joints” goes unheeded here. For instance, the multiple crescendos mentioned earlier: one of them is at the end of “Aon”, but the others are at the beginning of “Dó”. Why not group them all together at the end of one track or at the beginning of the other? It feels arbitrary to split them apart. The gaeilgeoirí among you will also note that the tracks aren’t even named, just numbered: “Aon”, “Dó”, “Trí”, “Ceathair” is “One”, “Two”, “Three”, “Four” in Irish. Uninspired? Avant-Garde? You choose.

In just shy of twenty-three minutes, Maruja take the listener on an exhausting emotional rollercoaster with Tír na nÓg, but the improvisational nature of the album leaves something to be desired. The wordless chanting of this latest work is a welcome reprieve from the snotty shout-singing on the band’s 2024 hit “Break the Tension”. This group have a lot of potential. What they choose to do with it is up to them, but I hope they continue developing their talent for atmospheric rock like that found on Tír na nÓg.

Recommended tracks: Aon, Dó
You may also like: Zu, Five The Hierophant
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Music For Nations – Facebook | Official Website

Maruja is:
– Harry Wilkinson (lead vocals, guitar)
– Joe Carroll (vocals, alto saxophone)
– Matt Buonaccorsi (bass guitar)
– Jacob Hayes (drums)

The post Review: Maruja – Tír na nÓg appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Electronic, Drum & Bass, Psytrance (instrumental)
Recommended for fans of: Shpongle, Ozric Tentacles, King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard, Autechre, Jacob Collier
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: 31 January 2025

Sevish is your favourite music nerd’s favourite music nerd. For about fifteen years, Sevish—given name Sean Archibald—has been creating electronic music of various genres (drum & bass, glitch, atmospheric, jungle, psytrance, hip hop…) but with a twist: xenharmonics.

Connoisseurs of progressive or experimental music are generally familiar with the concept of microtonality, the practice of breaking down the familiar 12-tone scale¹ into smaller intervals. Instead of 12 (logarithmically) equally spaced notes from 440Hz to 880Hz, you might have 19, or 31, or 96. Splitting the familiar 12 tones into more tones is “microtonality”, but this is just one aspect of xenharmonics: you might have fewer than 12 tones, or they might be spaced equally, or your scale might not be based on the octave (the 2:1 frequency ratio), or any number of other arrangements. Combine these unusual scales with unusual time signatures and you can get some truly alien music—this is exactly what Archibald has been doing for nearly two decades now.

Sevish‘s latest album, One With The Fractal,² uses fully electronic instrumentation to explore equal-temperament microtonal scales with 5, 22, 26, and 31 pitches, as well as rational-tuning scales and one based on the golden ratio. The songwriting process for Archibald is one of discovery, rather than one of invention; the liner notes for One With The Fractal read like a scientist’s laboratory journal and the resulting album sounds like a collection of experimental results.³ At times, Archibald himself seems surprised by these results, stating “[t]he whole thing just sounds very alien to me. The world doesn’t have much music that sounds like this.”

One With The Fractal opens on the lively “This Track”, which has an uptempo bass-heavy section that starts the album off on an energetic footing. If you’re a fan of the bouncier numbers, “Soundways” is a jazzy, drum-focused track with a similar intensity and walking riffs that show how disorienting a 26-tone scale can be. “False Awakening” is another heavy track, and the closest this album gets to progressive metal—featuring distorted, simulated guitars, and a minimal 4-note scale. Finally, a warning: do not listen to “Triple Trouble” under the influence—you will have a bad time. Its eerie horn-like effects, throbbing bass, and dissonant chiming will send you to the bad place.

Sevish is best known for their 2017 track “Gleam”, which is catchy and busy and can be appreciated passively, without serious focus. In contrast, One With The Fractal demands your attention. Like a postmodern painting, you must let it marinate in your brain for a while. Archibald doesn’t discuss the “meaning” behind the tracks on this album in the liner notes (preferring to leave their interpretation to the listener), but mentions under “The Dreamer” that “[t]hings were feeling very dreamy that day when I was making it. I guess a lot of my tracks are about dreaming.” One With The Fractal is an album which would fit just as easily onto a bedtime Spotify playlist as it would into a rave; there’s a lot to unpack.

Despite One With The Fractal‘s dizzying breadth of scales and styles, it can be, at times, repetitive. There is a short phrase in “This Track” which sounds like a metal ball bouncing on a metal surface that repeats twice in the first four minutes (fine) and then seventeen more times in the last forty-five seconds (absolutely grating). The next track, “The Dreamer”, starts with about a minute of an intense, churning bassline before moving into a Daft Punk-esque section, with glitchy splashes that sound like a digitized slap bass track; it then moves back into that churning bassline, and stays there for a solid two minutes. This is fine if you’re a fan of trance music, but if you are looking for something more dynamic, this ain’t it.

One With The Fractal is an unusual album; despite its consistent instrumentation, it is far from monolithic in style. It is an ambitious collection of sonic experiments, each of which must be observed, analyzed, and reviewed before any conclusions can be reached. Sevish has done the experimental electronic community a great service in uncovering these results, and we at The Progressive Subway will watch their career with great interest.

Recommended tracks: False Awakening, Soundways, Durationplex
You may also like: Brendan Byrnes, Easley Blackwood, phonon, The Mercury Tree
Final verdict: 7/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Official Website

Label: independent

Sevish is:
– Sean Archibald (everything)

1. aka. 12-tone equal temperament or 12-TET (aka. 12-ET), aka. 12 equal divisions of the octave (2:1 frequency) or 12-EDO, 12-ED2 ︎
2. Not to be confused with the Friends episode “The One With The Fractal”, where Joey gets lost in a timeless void of infinite dimensionality. ︎
3.  In fact, the word “experiment” appears multiple times in the liner notes. ︎

The post Review: Sevish – One With The Fractal appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Experimental Rock, Art Rock, Noise Rock (mostly clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Dead Kennedys, Modest Mouse
Country: Colorado, United States
Release date: 10 January 2025

One of my favourite pastimes when I was younger was drawing. I enjoyed the act of creation, of forcefully extracting something from the infinite comfort of non-existence. But I was also a perfectionist; I hated the thought of painting the “wrong” colour or penning a line of ink in the “wrong” place. So, I developed a sketchy, fuzzy kind of art style, usually using pencil, which meant that I never had to commit to an idea; I could always change my mind later, or blame the messiness on the art style itself. There is a vulnerability in being public, in being clear and precise and unapologetic. Hiding in the safety of the messy, uncommitted corner, I could always anaemically defend against any criticism of my work with a “well it’s just a sketch, anyway”.

TULPA‘s latest release, Plum Pinball, feels like it comes from a very similar place: one of defensiveness, of wanting to create but in a non-committal way—of fear. The title track, “Plum Pinball”, even hints at this masturbatory false bravado: “shut up and listen, I’m plum pinballing” says ‘I am important, shut up and listen to this art I created to pleasure myself and myself only (unless you like it and want to join in, as well)’. Two hands are better than one.

This is the case for many experimental albums: the would-be artist wants to create music but (a) does not know how to play an instrument, (b) does not know how to sing, (c) cannot construct songs, (d) cannot write lyrics… take your pick. TULPA can do some of these things, some better than others, but none of them extremely well. They struggle to create music in the same way a snake struggles to shed its skin—they instinctively know that they can do it, but it is a time-consuming, labour-intensive, uncomfortable process.

On first listen, Plum Pinball is about as enjoyable as a root canal. On “True Crimes”, the shrieking distorted guitar, the nasally scream-singing, and the perfectly milquetoast rhythm section make you regret the sin of having ears. The lyrics on “Part-Time Mortician” read as though someone trained an AI chatbot on edgy YouTube comments written by preteens underneath Jordan Peterson videos: “And my friends could all choke, and my family could choke / On their smoke, and I’d laugh ’cause I know that it’s what they deserve. / (D.A.R.E.) / (Soft eugenics).” I’d suggest taking a chill pill, but this band already seem overmedicated.

On the other hand, if you’ve got a masochistic side and listen to this album a few times, it grows on you, like a particularly aggressive melanoma. There are some redeemable aspects: the vocalist has a distinctive timbre and significant power considering just how high of a register they sing in—for example, on “The New Black Something Something”. “Mission Tripperz” is about as close as this album gets to indie rock and would be well-received by fans of Modest Mouse. Despite its edgelord lyrics, “Part-Time Mortician” has catchy vocal melodies, an infectious momentum, and is one of the few tracks on the album that feels truly “fleshed out”, filling in empty spaces with synths and double-tracked guitars.

Is Plum Pinball groundbreaking? Not particularly. Is it catchy? Only when it isn’t actively repellent. Is it something I would listen to again? Almost certainly not. But would I listen to the next TULPA album? Absolutely. Art is meant to make you feel something, not necessarily something good, but something: it may intrigue or repulse you, but it should never bore you. Plum Pinball needs further distillation to its essential elements, more sincerity, and less intentionally sarcastic edginess in its lyrical themes in order to be a great album. TULPA need to allow themselves to be vulnerable.

Recommended tracks: Part-Time Mortician, Mission Tripperz
You may also like: DE()T, Bomb, Nunchukka Superfly
Final verdict: 4/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Instagram

Label: independent

TULPA is:
– Jacob Gustafson (everything)

The post Review: TULPA – Plum Pinball appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Technical Death Metal, Thrash Metal, Progressive Death Metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: At The Gates, Cannibal Corpse, Carcass, Ne Obliviscaris, Thank You Scientist
Country: New Jersey, United States
Release date: 10 January 2025

Horns sound in the distance.

The first rays of the early morning sun stream through the crenels of the battlements as your feet slide through the verdant grass, wet with dew. The winter air is crisp and cool as you approach, your breath forming wispy clouds that float to the heavens.

One horn calls out, much closer now.

You read “Dei gratia”—”by the grace of God”—emblazoned on the crest affixed to the imposing wall, above the portico of crimson and gold, and you thank God that you have arrived safely at this place. Suddenly, you feel as though you’re being watched. The outline of a dark, stout creature enters your peripheral vision. It slowly glides toward you.

“Ey! Get tha fuck out tha road!”

A middle-aged man with male-pattern baldness, wearing a mustard-stained tank top, gestures at you out the driver’s side window of his Honda CR-V. You awkwardly shuffle up onto the sidewalk.

“Fuckin jabron.” He spits and his tires squeal as he drives out of the Medieval Times parking lot.

Lyndhurst, New Jersey is where you find yourself on this winter morning, and it’s where Slaughtersun found themselves not too long ago, recording their debut EP Black Marrow.

Just as a replica 11th century castle in urban New Jersey may seem out of place, less than ten miles as the crow flies from the Empire State Building, an electric violin may not be the first instrument you associate with technical death metal. But in just 24 brutal minutes, Black Marrow shows that, dei gratia, Slaughtersun can use whatever instruments they want to shred your face off.

A side project of two of the members of progressive rock / jazz fusion group Thank You Scientist, as well as the vocalist of Cranial Damage and the drummer from Tombstoner, Slaughtersun play a progressive-leaning form of technical death metal, captured in this first collection of work, Black Marrow. This EP is composed of six tracks: a mood-setting introduction, a live recording at the end, and four full-length songs in the middle. These four core tracks are arranged chronologically, in the order in which they were released as singles. As Black Marrow progresses, and we move forward in time, nearly every element of the band’s sound matures and improves.

The vocals, for example, have some awkward moments on “Fall of the Firmament”, trying to shove too many syllables into certain phrases and at times poorly enunciating: “we must return to the dark” ends up sounding more like “we must return to the dork” (a scream, rather than a growl, might have helped make that wide vowel sound). As Black Marrow progresses, there are fewer (if any) of these slips, and the vocals also gain much more presence on the low end of the register, which is missing in earlier tracks.

The bass and violin really develop over these twenty minutes, as well: on “Fall of the Firmament”, the strings are mostly in lockstep with each other rhythmically as well as with the drums, save for an ascending bass riff, a fifteen-second violin solo, and the more freeform outro. But by the second track, more fills and longer phrases are already making their way onto the album. On the last track, “Black Marrow”, we can hear long, complex, walking basslines and prominent violin riffs that should be enough to entice any Thank You Scientist fan to check out this band.

The complexity of the arrangements is the aspect of this album which has most obviously improved from beginning to end. The first two tracks have a nearly identical verse-chorus arrangement, mainly in 4/4, with a downtempo bridge. By the second half of the album, odd time signatures (5/8, 6/8, 7/8, 10/8, and 12/8) and more complex song structures move this band from solidly “technical death metal” territory into “progressive death metal”. As that transition has happened chronologically, presumably we can expect more progressive work from this band in the future.

Finally, the drums are rock-solid throughout, impeccably scaffolding every song. The drummer never misses an opportunity for a fill, providing just the right amount of texture, perfectly balancing the skins and the cymbals. The double (triple?) bass pedalling on “Black Marrow” is surgical in its precision, but pummelling, like an avalanche triggered by a howitzer. Seriously impressive work.

Musicians often—but not always—show growth from one album to the next, exploring new lyrical ideas, new song structures, and new instrumentation. Much less often do you hear such growth within the runtime of a single EP. Slaughtersun have poured a foundation of solid thrash / death metal and begun to layer progressive rock sensibilities on top. If these four tracks are any indication of their trajectory, their first LP should be a seriously impressive work of progressive death metal. I’m eagerly anticipating it.

Recommended tracks: Black Marrow, Ready Cell Awaits
You may also like: Cranial Damage, Demilich, Gorguts
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

Label: Frost Gauntlet Music Publishing – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Slaughtersun is:
– Justin Hillman (vocals)
– Ben Karas (violin)
– Cody McCorry (bass)
– Jason Quinones (drums)

The post Review: Slaughtersun – Black Marrow appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Sludge Metal, Post-Hardcore, Alt Metal (mostly clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: The Ocean, AFI, Mastodon
Country: Washington D.C., United States / Croatia
Release date: 16 August 2024

“Hello and welcome to The Progressive Subway!” a voice bellows from the sky.

 – “Ah! What? Who are you? What’s going on?”

“You’ll be listening to Wings Denied for your test review.”

 – “Test review? What?”

“Croatian band. You’ll need these.” A pair of waders materializes in mid-air in front of me, then falls, the rubber slapping onto the ground. “For the sludge.”

Fearing for my own safety, I do what is asked of me, don my new outfit, and drop a needle onto digital vinyl (I open Spotify) to listen to Wings Denied‘s sophomore release, Just the Basics.

…

Solidly sludge metal, this new album showcases a modest range of moods and styles. On Just the Basics, Wings Denied lean heavily on their pop sensibilities, only occasionally experimenting with meter, instrumentation, and song structure. The band wear their influences on their sleeves, but seem to have difficulty merging those ideas into a coherent theme. This album is more of a chain composed of links of different kinds of metal than an alloy formed by successfully melding those ideas together.

Opener “Plastic Tears” introduces most of the sonic themes heard throughout Just the Basics: clean, soaring vocals; sludgy, churning bass; twisty, shifting rhythms; and intricate, walking riffs. As with most of the following songs, this one unfortunately also seems to suffer an over-reliance on the chorus (repeated perhaps one too many times) and a missing middle, balancing – sometimes precariously – between sludgy lows and piercing solos, without much solid ground in the middle of that harmonic range.

The second track, “Black Legend”, is such a contrast from the first that it almost sounds like a different band. While “Plastic Tears” shows strong sludge / classic doom metal influence, the uptempo “Black Legend” is much more punk, with its snare-and-cymbal drumming, verse-chorus pop structure, and bass which has been mixed all the way back so that it’s hardly audible under the guitars. The first guitar solo of the album appears here, as well, at 2:25, and while nothing jaw-dropping, it serves the song well and doesn’t overstay its welcome.

Abrupt stops in a handful of tracks on the album occasionally kill the momentum, often without leading into a satisfying drop or breakdown, which might make those short, sharp shocks worthwhile. “Lost in It All”, for example, features some of my favourite musical ideas on Just the Basics. It’s such a departure from the first three tracks: jazzy, airy, sultry. Like Christmas chocolates that have melted a bit from sitting too close to the fireplace, it oozes and flows in a supremely satisfying way. But a break at 0:42, followed by a pop-rock metal chorus, drops the listener in a bucket of ice water. The second verse brings back that oozing chocolate sound, but it’s hard to enjoy it the second time around. (“Fool me once…”) This track, like “Plastic Tears”, could do with a bit more development (maybe an extended verse, or a second bridge), rather than relying on the chorus to pad the runtime.

The next track, “Lifebroker”, is the only non-single off of this album with more than 1000 listens on Spotify, and for good reason: it’s a banger. “Lifebroker” enters on a churning, steam engine of a riff. An abrupt break starts the verse, which causes the song to lose a bit of the momentum it had at the outset, but it manages to recover and maintain that energy moving forward. The climbing bridge around 2:45 is one of the best riffs on this album by far, and wouldn’t be out of place on something by Mastodon. This song has a good energy, and I think is pretty representative of this band’s general sound.

The rhythms on “Saudade” make this Just the Basics’ stand-out track: the section beginning at 2:05 sounds to be in 12/8, but the guitars bob and weave around the rhythm section here, making it difficult to count on first listen. There is another abrupt break at 2:24 into a much quieter section, where twinkly guitars and vocals are soon joined by sparse drums, followed by strings and bass. 3:27 brings in a somber refrain (“we’re very sorry for your loss, he was a brave man”), which builds in intensity and sincerity until the mood is abruptly shattered not once, but twice. “Saudade” is “an emotional state of melancholic or profoundly nostalgic longing for a beloved yet absent someone or something”. Perhaps the abrupt changes of mood—from raging and chaotic; to disbelief, repeating the words delivered to the bereaved over and over; and back to anger—are meant to represent the tug-of-war between anger, denial, and depression, which those who have grieved for a loved one know well. “Saudade” is one of the strongest efforts on this album, by far.

Just the Basics is a solid effort: a mostly-sludge, mostly-metal album that leans heavily on pop song structure, punctuated by moments of impressive songwriting, both in terms of mood and melody. Wings Denied clearly have a wealth of great ideas, but these are diamonds in the rough; they need a talented producer to refine and polish them. I’m looking forward to moving past the basics.

…

P.S. Does anyone need a pair of waders?

Recommended tracks: Saudade, Mr. Nice Guy, Black Legend
You may also like: Exist Immortal, Aliases, Mycelia
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Independent

Wings Denied is:
– Luka Kerecin (vocals)
– Zach Dresher (guitars, synths)
– Wes Good (bass)
– Alec Kossoff (drums, glockenspiel, backing vocals)

The post Missed Album Review: Wings Denied – Just the Basics appeared first on The Progressive Subway.