Style: Progressive rock, symphonic rock (instrumental)
Recommended for fans of: King Crimson, Camel, Vangelis, Anekdoten, Focus
Country: Norway
Release date: 25 July 2025

In the kingdom of the rock band, the throne usually belongs to the singer, who commands attention while the instruments orbit like loyal courtiers. There may be a guitarist lurking like a scheming vizier, angling to one day seize control, or a keyboardist playing the role of the staunch and trusty chancellor—perhaps the favourite of the court, even if the crown rests elsewhere. But in instrumental bands, the throne sits conspicuously empty. Some groups fill the vacancy by crowning another instrument as monarch. Others leave the court in disarray, offering tracks that feel like singer-less karaoke, shapeless without a clear voice from the throne.

But there is a secret third option: on their debut album The Book of Hours, Norwegian band Agropelter opts for a little throne room reno, removing the seat of power entirely in favour of a round table. Gathered around it are flute, organ, mellotron, guitar, fretless bass, piano, and more; each takes turns steering the conversation and weaving lush, indulgent harmonies. The resulting sound draws heavily on the pizzazz of 70s and 80s prog rock while peppering in jazz, classical, cinematic hues, and even a dash of AOR. It’s a lively musical dialogue, rather than a single ruling figure holding court.

Evoking everything from Rachmaninoff to King Crimson to the Old-School RuneScape soundtrack within a single track, one could easily imagine Agropelter’s multi-instrumental milieu feeling cramped or scatterbrained. However, The Book of Hours unfolds with unhurried assurance. Those who prefer their music structured will find no catchily-packaged verse-chorus deals here; the album flows more like a stream of consciousness, a winding road meandering towards something that always stays just past the vanishing point. Most of the time, this works: I wouldn’t bat an eye if you told me that the solo five minutes into “The Book of Hours Pt I” was lifted from a Rachmaninoff or Beethoven piano concerto, as its long phrases lope elegantly in arcing forms, but the final tumble down the keyboard’s low end to the waiting mellotron feels effortless and natural, too. However, not all twists in the road are as deftly navigated. Take, for instance, the bass solo that bubbles up from the murky bottom of the dense soundscape in “Burial Mound”. Though sharply executed and poignantly eerie, it trails off without a true resolution. And the same goes for album opener “The Flute of Peril”—Agropelter hasn’t yet mastered the art of gracefully laying a track to rest once the journey has run its course.

The Book of Hours opens with an atmospheric fricassée of cawing crows, thunder, and rain that occasionally reappears between tracks. Though the colourfully varied instrumental tapestry often delights with unexpected timbres poking out of the thrumming inter-track ambiance, there are fewer surprises when it comes to the melody. That is to say, Agropelter is content to resolve phrases and harmonies in ways that you might anticipate—pretty and satisfying rather than challenging, dissonant, or unsettled. For example, the cinematic major-key theme that closes “The Book of Hours Pt I”:¹ harmonically, its path is somewhat telegraphed, but the effect is less that of a predictable cliché, and more of a puzzle piece sliding neatly into place.

Whether it’s the sultry, jazz-tinged piano in “The Book of Hours Pt II” or the shimmering AOR glint of the keys and guitar that open “Levitator”, Agropelter’s stylistic flourishes never feel out of place. Instead, though the dominant accents are the brio of vintage prog rock and the elegant grandeur of Romantic Classical music, each voice still finds its place at the round table. Agropelter may have never crowned a ruler, but The Book of Hours proves that a court can thrive without one. Together, the album’s numerous influences and instruments coalesce into a debut that surprises and charms at nearly every turn.

Recommended tracks: Burial Mound, The Book of Hours Pt I, The Book of Hours Pt III
You may also like: Øresund Space Collective, Agusa, Änglagård, King Garcia
Final verdict: 7.5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Official Website | Instagram

Label: The Laser’s Edge – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Agropelter is:
– Kay Olsen (guitars, bass, church organ, keyboard)
– Jonas Reingold (fretless bass)
– Mattias Olson (percussion, synths)
– Andreas Sjøen (drums)
With guests:
– Jordi Castella (grand piano)
– Eli Mine (harpsichord)
– Norlene M (cello)
– Aileen Antu (double bass)
– Luis Vilca (alto flute)
– Hannah Danets (flute)
– Zhivago (bassoon)
– Edgar Asmar (duduk)

1. This and a few passages in “The Book of Hours Pt III” call to mind Mark Knopfler’s soundtrack work. ︎

The post Review: Agropelter – The Book of Hours appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Dream Theater, Pain of Salvation, Redemption
Country: International
Release date: 11 July 2025

If you’re a band with a certain amount of cache within the scene, you can probably find at least one reviewer who’ll give you a positive blurb. Some of the lowest scoring bands we’ve ever reviewed have garnered 10/10s from a spate of outlets we’ve never heard of and who may or may not accept payment in exchange for positive press (unfortunately, such cynical industries do exist). Now, I’m not accusing Philosophobia of any such thing, but to the brag on their Bandcamp that their self-titled debut was given “numerous… 10 out of 10 reviews,” I can safely say: we weren’t one of them. Our erstwhile colleague Nick was obviously feeling especially mean when he bestowed a dismal 2/10 on the upstart supergroup. A rival review blog, who I won’t name, claim of the band’s sophomore release, “if Dream Theater thought they had 2025’s Progressive honours all-sewn-up with the Parasomina [sic] album, then Philosophobia might just have rained on their parade.” Well, as self-proclaimed haters, we gave Parasomnia a 6.5/10, so this’ll be an interesting one to tease apart.  

Joining the ranks of albums whose art depicts people with unexpected things where their brains should be, The Constant Void sees Philosophobia return with their edgy take on trad prog. Clearly rooted in the trappings of such 90s luminaries as Dream Theater, Pain of Salvation (Kristoffer Gildenlöw was bassist on their debut), and even shades of Symphony X, how can the European group stand apart in a scene clogged with bands getting dubious 10 out of 10s from unknown outlets?

After a scene-setting intro—echoing voices, sirens, doomy synths, a portentous voiceover about death—via the creatively titled “Intro”, we’re treated to a trad prog riff that sounds, much like every riff in the scene for the last twenty years, like a watered down “Panic Attack”. Utilising some harsher barks and gifted with a catchy hook, “King of Fools” may well be the heaviest and most energetic song on The Constant Void. Instrumentally, Philosophobia showcase a nigh problematic knowledge of the expected tropes as well as the talent to play them. Riffs like that of “The Forgotten Part I” struggle for identity, and solos are performed with aplomb but are unlikely to stick in the mind—it all feels somewhat by the numbers, if well-performed. Drummer Alex Landenburg (Kamelot, Mekong Delta) is the record’s most valuable player, his performance dynamic and energetic, cruising through enlivening changes in feel, and magnetic grooves that elevate the more lacklustre sections. 

Tying it all together is vocalist Domenik Papaemmanouil who possesses a rather nice timbre, but too often ends up straining himself beyond his own capabilities, leaning into an overwrought and somewhat pained mode of delivery. Requisite ballad “Will You Remember” showcases the problem elegantly, with Papaemmanouil exercising rather elegant restraint in the verses, only to sound like he’s doing his level best to cultivate laryngeal polyps during the choruses. For the bulk of the record, he tends towards this overwrought, overcompensatory delivery and it’s something of a chore to endure. Every mellower moment is a respite for the listener and, presumably, for Papaemmanouil’s voicebox, too. 

Nevertheless, with all this in mind, Philosophobia aren’t without talent and they attempt a few different ideas on The Constant Void with varying levels of success. “Inside His Room” plays with wide open chords and a fun lead guitar motif. “F 40.8” allows the musicians to let loose in a madcap instrumental piece (and allows us to hear Sebastian Heuckmann’s bass work, which is most audible here and somewhat buried on most other tracks), but the rhythmic bed is rather uninspired, despite Landenburg’s efforts to add variety. Twenty minute epic “The Forgotten Part II” trots out all the prog cliches: a grandiose choral opening, brooding 90s synths, harsh vocal sections, a piano etude, and a lengthy reprise of Part I’s chorus. Some ideas are less successful. “Underneath Grassroots” forgoes percussion entirely, centring Papaemmanouil over gentle guitarwork and a somewhat incongruous synth solo, but the song comes off half-baked. Meanwhile, “The Forgotten Part I” has a gothy chorus repeated ad nauseam broken up only by a somewhat ill-fitting, frenetic solo section. Many of the tonal ideas are hard to parse, such as the triumphal instrumental section that bifurcates the balladeering on “Will You Remember” (amazingly, the mawkish vocal sample manages to be far more endearing than most).

What’s odd about listening to The Constant Void is how Philosophobia manage to demonstrate clear talent and illustrate clear performance issues simultaneously. Take the epic solo on “The Fall”. Guitarist Andreas Ballnus opens with almost Gilmourian emotion slowly amping up the complexity, the rhythm remaining judiciously restrained all the while. The solo falters when an out of tune double-tracked guitar harmony interrupts the flow, followed by a cringe-inducingly uncanny tremolo section¹, after which we segue into a pleasingly Rudessian piano solo which allows keyboardist Tobias Weißgerber to really shine. Sandwiched within an absolute album highlight is a bafflingly amateurish double whammy of jarring audio choices. The artless transition from the piano etude to the heavy riff on “The Forgotten Part II” is another such moment which makes your ears prick up, the lunk, ill-timed abruptness of it proving a jolt to the listener. I’ve focused on the negatives a lot here so I want to reiterate that these guys are really talented performers; their sins boil down to a slightly overcooked vocal performance, a lack of memorability, and the odd mistake. Taken together, that’s a surprisingly marring combination.

When Parasomnia dropped, it became apparent that Dream Theater were cannibalising their own discography for ideas and falling into self-parody in the process, presenting a dull simulacrum of their own zeniths. The Constant Void feels similarly troubled but for very different reasons. Struggling to break free of their influences, to bring inspired riffs and melodies, and still prone to some amateurish errors, it feels like a better album is yearning to break free from this frustratingly unpolished one. Nevertheless, unlike Dream Theater, Philosophobia’s best days are still ahead of them, and a bit of focus and polish could take them the extra distance. None of this is making the next press release, is it?

Recommended tracks: King of Fools, Will You Remember, The Fall
You may also like: Pyramid Theorem, Need, Aeon Zen, Vicinity
Final verdict: 5/10

1. My colleague Cooper, who possesses much more guitar-tech know-how than I, adds that the guitars in the double-tracked section are both panned in the centre rather than one to the right speaker and one to the left. This means that a slight discrepancy in tuning, which you can hear vestiges of prior to the double-tracked section, becomes emphasised by the production choices. Of the tremolo section, he suspects it’s been quantised; that is, digitally altered so the picking is of a completely uniform speed, making it sound uncanny. ︎

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

Label: The Laser’s Edge – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Philosophobia is:
– Domenik Papaemmanouil – Vocals
– Andreas Ballnus – Guitars
– Alex Landenburg – Drums
– Sebastian Heuckmann – Bass
– Tobias Weißgerber – Keys

The post Review: Philosophobia – The Constant Void appeared first on The Progressive Subway.