Style: Black metal, atmospheric black metal, folk (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Winterfylleth, Grima, Havukruunu, Panopticon, Abigail Williams
Country: New York, United States
Release date: 8 August 2025

Native American and Norse peoples share a few historical parallels in how they were confronted, overrun, and transformed by Christian evangelization. Norse paganism was gradually outlawed in favor of Christianity in the high middle ages, while colonization of and expansion within the New World saw many Native American peoples and practices eradicated via law, violence, and disease. Many surviving texts and oral traditions from these cultures were subsequently preserved (and thus perverted) through Christian reinterpretation and narrative.¹ In both histories conversion to Christianity was, to put it lightly, highly encouraged. The treatment and transformation of these two ocean-separated populations isn’t a mirror image, but their history certainly rhymes.

In its developing stages, a large part of Scandinavian black metal identity was rooted in rebelling against that historical inertia and embracing the old ways²—continuing to shape the genre to this day. All that to say: I can see how the sights, sounds, and lyrics of black metal might have a certain appeal to somebody of Native American descent. Though he’s not the first to infuse an indigenous influence with extreme metal, Jon Krieger’s Blackbraid is certainly my favorite. Blackbraid I was an instant darling and my favorite release of 2022; the Native American inspiration, artwork, and dour yet melodious atmosphere in the music hit all the right spots for me. Blackbraid II (2023) was even better, expanding on and refining the ideas from its predecessor and cementing Krieger as more than just a one-off.

Blackbraid III has now descended upon us, with no shortage of the fire and frost of its elder brethren. As before, riffs arrive in a variety of guises: tremolo-picked blizzards punctuated by brash high chords, power-chord progressions that chant beneath soaring lead lines, and even a few chugs on the low end for good measure. The unceasing wintry gale of the harmonious guitars in “Tears of the Dawn” will blanket you in aural snow, and the hollow production style of the album only adds to that chilling effect. “God of Black Blood” trudges with slow, face-crumpling heaviness (and has the album’s standout guitar solo). My favorite track, though, is “And He Became the Burning Stars.” It opens with a triplet-driven 6/8 riff whose rhythm is an oar cutting through turbulent waters. Surrounding this riff are dissonant yet melodic chords that crash into it, feeling both alien to the riff but perfectly at home in the album’s broader sound. But, the real magic of the song comes in its melodic and soft bridge that transitions into the latter half of the piece, which completely transforms the song into something as beautiful and pensive as the opening was aggressive. You’ll remain exhilarated and moved across its ten minute runtime.

The music here is so consistently captivating that the greatest criticism I can level at Blackbraid III is its overly rigid structure. The opening tracks set a template that the rest of the album rarely strays from: a soft, acoustic opener (“Dusk (Eulogy)”) followed by a full-throttle black metal scorcher (“Wardrums at Dawn on the Day of My Death”). This pattern is almost ever-present, deviating only after “Wardrums…” and again at the very end, with a fantastic cover of Lord Belial’s “Fleshbound.” One particular interlude track, “The Earth Is Weeping,” is overly repetitive, three times as lengthy as it should be, and should have been attached to its predecessor as an outro. Others, though, justify their place—like “Traversing the Forest of Eternal Dusk,” which weaves flowing guitar melodies, Native American flute, and what sounds like genuine field recordings of a living forest into something transportive. Such interludes are the quiet nighttime fires that keep you alive amidst the icy gusts of the black metal blizzard about you.

Krieger’s knack for creating evocative song titles continues to be in full effect³ on Blackbraid III. With names like “And He Became the Burning Stars” or “Wardrums at Dawn on the Day of My Death,” the part of me that longs for lore and some form of spiritual communion with nature swells just reading them. The lyrics are no slouch either: “The dust of my spirit / Shall flow forth at twilight / A sacred sepulchre in frost / An offering of flesh to the moss” (from “The Dying Breath of a Sacred Stag”). Adding to the effect is the top-notch vocal delivery and production on III. While not being able to understand a harsh vocalist’s specific words almost never detracts from a song for me, intelligible rasps and gutturals can only elevate the material—and nary a scathing shriek passed through my ears that I couldn’t understand on first listen.

I came into Blackbraid III with expectations that were miles high, and in that sense I might be slightly disappointed. Across its fifty-three minutes, the shifts between fury and calm create a cycle of tension and release that mirrors the ebb and flow of the natural landscapes that the album evokes. Thus, the music clings to the tonal and structural palette of its magical predecessors—perhaps to a fault. The consistency that Blackbraid has displayed across three releases is both a blessing and a curse. I tend to be most interested in trying out new flavors from an established artist, and Blackbraid III doesn’t exactly try any different recipes in the cookbook. Yet its strong songwriting, deep integration of the creator’s folklore, and solid production values go a long way to turn a “more of the same” release into something that I’ll keep spinning over the years.

Recommended tracks: And He Became the Burning Stars, Traversing the Forest of Eternal Dusk, The Dying Breath of a Sacred Stag, Like Wind Through the Reeds Making Waves Like Water
You may also like: Saor, Walg, Valdrin, Pan Amerikan Native Front
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

Label: Independent

Blackbraid is:
– Jon S. Krieger, also known as Sgah’gahsowáh (vocals, guitars, bass)
With guests:
– Neil Schneider (drums)

1. I myself grew up in an American-born Christian tradition that bastardizes the history of Native Americans. ︎
2. And I mean the old “old ways,” not the South/Central Europe circa 1939 “old ways.” ︎
3. “Barefoot Ghost Dance on Bloodsoaked Soil,” “Warm Wind Whispering Softly Through Hemlock at Dusk” (Blackbraid I), “A Song of Death on the Winds of Dawn,” and “Twilight Hymn of Ancient Blood” (Blackbraid II) being some favorites from previous albums. ︎

The post Review: Blackbraid – Blackbraid III appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive death metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Meshuggah, Rivers of Nihil, Entheos, Tesseract
Country: United States
Release date: 14 August 2025

“We all rip off Meshuggah!” Or so Devin Townsend famously said in his 2014 track, “Planet of the Apes.” Comedic exaggeration? Slightly. But Meshuggah’s influence and the proliferation of djent have defined a solid chunk of the metal released after the mid-aughts. Our boy Justin dove deeper into the style’s evolution in his review of Atlan Blue by Antediluvian Projekt—a middling djent album released earlier this year—but suffice it to say that numerous artists have added a couple of strings to their guitars and embraced those chunky, polyrhythmic grooves. And though in recent times many bands have adopted djent and its features as a weapon in their sonic arsenals rather than as a core part of their identity, the style remains prominent. Hell, even the latest Muse single, “Unraveling,” includes a gratuitous djent passage.

This brings us to progressive death metallers Kallias and their latest release, Digital Plague. The album’s story—one of humanity’s unhealthy digital obsession, technological overreach, and the ongoing pattern of creation and destruction—is given life by, you guessed it: big, heavy, djent riffs. As the band put it, “Think if Meshuggah scored Blade Runner.” Eight-string guitars in hand, Kallias ravage their way through the tracks with the intensity of a helicopter blade. But, while Meshuggah might be their most apparent influence, the band wield djent as one tool in their prog-death toolkit—technical chops, cinematic orchestrations and synths, odd time signatures, and diverse vocals all coalesce in a fresh and shockingly accessible release.

Kallias’s strength lies in the balance they strike between heavy chugs, progressive flair, and hooky passages, and nowhere is this more apparent than in standout track “Null Space.” Within the first two minutes, we’re treated to a massive, choppy verse, textural synths, proggy riffing, and an earworm of a chorus that reminds, frankly, of a ballsier TesseracT. Still, the track sounds cogent and compelling. Similar can be said about the infectious opening cut “Destructive Apathy.” Frontwoman and guitarist Nicole Papastavrou backs up her fiery playing with ferocious growls—across all Digital Plague, she’s a force. Meanwhile, in addition to his consistently outstanding instrumental performance, bassist Chris Marrone delivers a diverse array of clean vocals that provide something to grab onto amidst the mayhem. 

Digital Plague’s tracks don’t stray far from one another, each offering some combination of dramatic intensity and complementary melodicism. But to help keep the album from turning stale, Kallias introduce new elements throughout. The title track, for instance, builds tension with staccato, bowed strings, and later features a soft, almost Opethian bridge. “Pyrrhic Victory” distinguishes itself with chant-like clean vocals that further Digital Plague’s narrative, eventually giving way to a big, rolling outro accompanied by cinematic synths. “Exogíini Kyriarchía” leans most heavily into djent, and “Shadow Entity” is more brooding and ends with a guitar solo that stands as an album highlight. Each track provides something engaging to catch the ear, while tight and often technical musicianship is consistent across the release. The rhythm section, in particular, is ridiculously active, forming a solid backbone while still delivering blazing flourishes throughout. 

Yet, despite the band’s instrumental prowess and constant sprinkling of new ideas, Digital Plague feels a tad formulaic. Each song runs about four and a half to six minutes and has a similar atmosphere and feel. The compositions are dynamic within individual songs, but show less variety across the tracklist—they all hit the same spot, even if striking from slightly different angles. Fortunately, the formula works, and Digital Plague is a blast. But because of this, the album has a high floor and a relatively low ceiling. Venturing into a few new sonic territories and taking some bigger compositional risks could have elevated the release that extra bit.

All in all, Digital Plague nods at Kallias’s influences while holding its own identity. Plenty of riffs will make your face wrinkle and your head jolt, but you’ll also find about a half dozen infectious choruses to sing along to. And although the album could contain more diversity from song to song, its cinematic nature keeps it engaging, the tracks stand strongly on their own, and the performances are ferocious. Basic Meshuggah worship this is not. We’ve sure come a long way since HevyDevy’s proclamation.

Recommended tracks: Destructive Apathy, Null Space, Shadow Entity
You may also like: Soreption, Aversed, Subterranean Lava Dragon, Daedric
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Independent

Kallias is:
– Nicole Papastavrou (guitars, vocals)
– Chris Marrone (bass, vocals)
– Justin Gogan (drums)
– Erik Ryde (guitars)
With guests:
– Chaney Crabb of Entheos (vocals, “Destructive Apathy”)
– Ian Waye of Soreption (guitars)

The post Review: Kallias – Digital Plague appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Doom metal, post-metal, drone, neofolk (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Conan, The Ocean, Neurosis, Om, Bell Witch, Lingua Ignota
Country: Canada
Release date: 8 August 2025

From a natural history perspective, the Earth has a remarkably tumultuous past. Starting its life in a barrage of cataclysmic impacts in the early solar system, the relative calm we experience today is uncharacteristic for our mercurial blue marble. Even going back just a few million years, the natural world was brutal, predatory, and unforgiving, a perfect landscape for metal’s monstrous riffs and dire atmospheres. Born from the primordial soup of Canadian doom metallers Völur and experimental electronic artist Cares, collaboration Breathless Spirit exhumes grayed fossils of old, uncovering dismal and violent pasts through experimental metal and folk music. The record is the latest in a series of collaborations from Völur known as “die Sprachen der Vögel”, or “The Language of Birds”; do Völur and Cares take off in glorious flight or does the language of Breathless Spirit fall on deaf ears?

Instrumental “Hearth” opens Breathless Spirit with the sound of flowing water, violins dirgefully rowing atop its currents as they repeat a thrumming motif. Völur and Cares take a loose approach to album flow, meandering along sinuous streams that traverse through lands of neofolk, drone, doom metal, and post-metal. This is not to say that they are lackadaisical or unfocused in their songwriting—each piece exudes an intentionality and plays a greater role in the record’s compositional narrative. Dynamics play a central role in song progression, as pieces are wont to begin slowly and subtly in the name of a monstrous climax (“Hearth”, “Windborne Sorcery II”, “On Drangey”) or begin raucously before petering out gently (“Breathless Spirit”).

Breathless Spirit embodies a certain nocturnal quality: the journey is one of de-emphasized riffs and subdued melodies in favor of hazy atmospherics, where silhouettes of the timberline stand out against a twilight sky but the details beneath are scant. Folkier sections invoke Impressionistic strings whose forms are gently tugged through gradual and minimal evolutions. Pieces like “Windborne Sorcery I”, “Hearth”, and “On Draney” are particularly delicate and intimate, tapping into a despondent sorrow that searches in vain for the words to articulate its internal world. The most stunning of these passages is the calmer second half of “Breathless Spirit”, where the harmonious vocals of Laura C. Bates and Lucas Gadke engage in plaintive dialogue with Bates’ expressive violin work; underneath, Cares’ keyboards add texture and color through subtle staccato jazz chords. Swirling winds then portend a powerful climax at the hands of Justin Ruppel’s kinetic drumming and Gadke’s psychedelic bass work in one of Breathless Spirit’s more ascendant moments.

The heavier tracks take a more chaotic and abrasive approach to Impressionism. A repetitive and chromatic riff etches out a jagged bed for Bates’ untethered banshee wails in the closing moments of “Windborne Sorcery II”, and watery tremolos reach a terrifying crest atop crushingly heavy drumwork in the first part of “Breathless Spirit”. The deluge of sludgy riffs reaches a head around the two-minute mark, where they pull back for a muted drum solo that builds into an eldritch vortex of intensity before the dam bursts and the track breaks down into placid folk instrumentals. Though these heavier moments engender an intense atmosphere, they are relatively impersonal compared to the calmer tracks, carrying an emotional detachment that makes them challenging to engage with fully. Try as I may, I can’t see the shrieking climax of “Windborne Sorcery II” as anything but well-done if unmoving, and the most compelling segment of closer “Death in Solitude” is when its stark tension finally begins to break thanks to subdued drum work and ominous clean vocals. A touch of melody in these sections would go a long way: “Breathless Spirit” is the most engaging of these heavier tracks as its riffage forsakes chromatic meandering for a more well-defined melodic identity. Additionally, the track doesn’t stay in its more intense form for too long, transitioning at just the right time into softer ideas.

Gripes with individual sections aside, Breathless Spirit is untouchable from an album flow perspective. There is a magic in the way that Völur and Cares effortlessly evoke compositional narrative as if Breathless Spirit’s disparate pieces were meant to be together. The earthen melodies of “Windborne Sorcery I” act as a perfect springboard into the apocalyptic doom of “Windborne Sorcery II”, whose chaos moves effortlessly into the oceanic heaviness of “Breathless Spirit”, ending on an appropriately calm note for “On Draney” to gently morph around droning violins. By hinting at future sections through subtle style shifts that retain the identity of their respective tracks, Breathless Spirit forges an inexorable bond between ideas that oscillate in intensity, style, and atmosphere.

Breathless Spirit coalesces a unique artistic vision through its experimental approach to metal. The nocturnal, primordial nature of its compositions lends the record to plaintive contemplation in its quieter moments and uproarious chaos in its heavier sections, even if these heavier sections often miss a bit of expressiveness. Still, the overall package is impossible to deny thanks to an alchemic magnetism between the band members and among Breathless Spirit’s disparate genres.

Recommended tracks: Breathless Spirit, Windborne Sorcery I, Hearth
You may also like: Wyatt E., Alora Crucible, The Ruins of Beverast, Sumac, Aerial Ruin
Final verdict: 7.5/10

Related links (Völur): Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram | Metal-Archives
Related links (Cares): Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Batke Records

Völur is:
– Laura C. Bates (strings, vocals, percussion)
– Lucas Gadke (bass, keyboards, woodwinds, vocals)
– Justin Ruppel (drums, percussion)
Cares is:
– James Beardmore (keyboards)

The post Review: Völur, Cares – Breathless Spirit appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: avant-garde metal, progressive metal, chamber music, progressive rock, Romanticism (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Rush, Mertz, Liturgy
Country: California, United States
Release date: 1 August 2025

What makes metal metal? Indubitably, it’s some blend of attitude, riffs, lyrical themes, instrumentation, and “heaviness” (that last one is to say, you know it when you hear it). Until 2020, I would have thrown in distortion to the list of essential characteristics, but Kaatayra’s Só Quem Viu o Relâmpago à sua Direita Sabe, currently still my album of the decade, changed that as a fully acoustic yet recognizably black metal album. New avant-garde metal band Rintrah push my conceptions of metal even further, abandoning even the harsh vocals of Só Quem. That’s right, The Torrid Clime is classical acoustic guitar, drumming, and reedy, belted clean vocals. So what makes Rintrah metal? 

Their unabashed veneration for the Romantics. I mean, ask anybody; Romantic poetry is hella metal. But seriously, since metal’s earliest days, its practitioners have been neoromantics, intentionally or not. The genre’s acolytes are obsessed with individuality and freedom of expression, an idealization of the past and the exotic (through incorporations of folk music, for example¹), and, above all, a singular desire to attain the sublime. Metal mainstays—crushing heaviness, screamed and growled vocals, blast beats, crazy displays of guitar wizardry, singing of gore and nihilism—all act to make you, the listener, feel small compared to the display of sonic power. As eminent Romantic philosopher Edmund Burke said: “Whatever is in any sort terrible, or is conversant about terrible objects, or operates in a manner analogous to terror, is a source of the sublime; that is, it is productive of the strongest emotion which the mind is capable of feeling.”² Like Romanticism, metal is, at its heart, a rebellion: against the shackles of a boring life, from the very start in the industrial hellscape of Manchester. It’s designed to make you feel something profound, with heaviness as its modus operandi.

Simply put, metal is obviously Romantic, and Rintrah fully embodies the philosophy more explicitly than any other band I’ve ever heard, so those dulcet acoustic guitars and blast beats are more than enough to be metal to the philosophical core. Rintrah’s Romantic aesthetic is, in a word, audacious. Adorning the album cover of The Torrid Clime’s is the 1818 painting Wanderer above the Sea of Fog by Caspar David Friedrich, a work which is literally first on Wikipedia if you search “Romantic art.” The lyrics across Rintrah’s debut record are pulled from various Romantic poets—William Blake, Percy Shelley, Emily Dickinson, Lord Byron, Charles Baudelaire, and Charlotte Smith.³ There is even a Mertz piece, “Nocturne, Op. 4, No. 2,” on the record fitted in as a mid-album interlude. 

So yeah, The Torrid Clime is pretty damn metal, although musically it’s a far cry from what I’d expect. There are no grandiose orchestrations here à la Mahler, Mendelssohn, or Dvorak. Classical guitarist Justin Collins manages to make his instrument sound like a harp, while Arsenio Santos on bass (Howling Sycamore) gives The Torrid Clime a Rush-like rhythmic edge. The vocals provided by Otrebor (Botanist) and William DuPlain (ex-Botanist) are also Rush-y, powerful, nasal-y tenors; like Geddy Lee, I could see Otrebor and DuPlain’s vocals being a sticking point for listeners. Yet their delivery of the various poems is admirable, with drama, bombast, and spot-on cadence. It’s quite the bardic performance, in fact, and one could easily imagine one of the vocalists with the charmingly strummed guitar lines traveling city to city performing their poetry.⁴ The guitar tones are succulent with plenty of technical embellishment, keeping the music quite harmonically complex. During the faster moments, like those in “Ozymandias” and “On the Giddy Brink,” I even hear strong hints of Kaatayra with the rhythmic intricacy of the guitar parts—not to mention the wonky rhythms of tracks like “The Chariot.” The compositions are also full of masterful transitions which perfectly underscore thematic shifts in the text, such as the transition between the main riff and the softer, richer one in “Fearful Symmetry.” 

For much of The Torrid Clime, the frantic blast beats are in wonderful juxtaposition with the calmer classical guitar and breathily belted vocals, but at times Otrebor’s drumming becomes completely detached from the plot as Collin’s guitar and Santos’ bass fall out of rhythmic contact with him—the vocalists are off doing their own thing in the stratosphere most of the time, regardless. Rintrah’s unique combination of sounds works in its favor until their delicate synergy becomes unraveled. Thankfully, for most of the tracks on The Torrid Clime, Rintrah stay in their lane, letting those euphonious guitar lines, thumping bass, unique vocals, and blast beats all interact with surprising cohesion. The tracks that change up Rintrah’s characteristic sound are also strong points on the record: instrumental “Nocturne, Op. 4, No. 2,” blast-less slow track “Mutability,” and a cappella finale “Into an Echo.” Even within the band’s focused sound, one can never know what to expect. 

The Torrid Clime is a unique album driven by guitars that sound like harps and charismatic vocalists who could travel town to town in some idyllic reimagining of the past. Fraught with gentle tension and unruly percussion, The Torrid Clime doesn’t induce the sublime as obviously as in lots of metal but rather in a wholly unexpected way; as I kept returning to the album, it revealed itself to me in the dramatic performance of the lyrics, in the percussive transitions between riffs, and in the complex, expansive chords. Rintrah is an intriguing project, undoubtedly not for every metalhead, but for those with an open mind and an appreciation for the philosophical, the sublime awaits.

Recommended tracks: Fearful Symmetry, On the Giddy Brink, In Tempests, Into an Echo
You may also like: Botanist, Forêt Endormie, Howling Sycamore, Kaatayra
Final verdict: 8/10

Related links: Bandcamp

Label: Fiadh Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook

Rintrah is:
– Justin Collins – guitar
– Otrebor – drums, backing and lead vocals
– William Duplain – lead and backing vocals
– Arsenio Santos – bass

1. The Romantics’ glorification of the past, promotion of shared heritage, and emphasis on extreme emotion all contributed greatly to the rise of nationalism. This is also how I believe NSBM became such a problem in the black metal world. Metal’s full embrace of the Romantics’ philosophy comes with its negatives, too. ︎
2.  From A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful. ︎
3. Rintrah don’t even quote some of my favorite basic-bitch Romantic poets like Colerdige, Wordsworth, and Keats. Definitely look into all of these Romantic poets, though! ︎
4. The bard is a common Romantic motif in their exaltation of the past. ︎

The post Review: Rintrah – The Torrid Clime appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style:  progressive black metal, electronica, industrial metal, symphonic metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Mechina, Thy Catafalque, Sigh
Country: France
Release date: 1 August 2025

I love when an artist has a philosophical vision that the music matches. The man behind Creatvre, Raphaël Fournier, knows exactly what he wants Toujours Humain (Always Human) to represent: a deep tension between being human and being part of the fast-approaching technological future. In I, Voidhanger’s Bandcamp blurb for the record, Fournier drops some absolutely fire explanations like “It [Toujours Humain] echoes the cries of those no longer heard, fragments of tweets turned into prayers” and “It’s an allegory of self-erasure for individuals, as programmed by those who set the agenda… The shame of still being biological.” A bit pretentious? Absolutely. But the description is undoubtedly poetic, and Toujours Humain definitely walks the walk.

As a writer at a blog of luddites, I am naturally drawn far more to the side of Creatvre that looks toward the past and not the imminent technocratic future. The project’s 2020 record, Ex Cathedra, is brilliant Baroque-inspired black metal with flute and real strings; in 2025, the Baroque aspect of Creatvre’s sound is wrapped into synthwave à la Keygen Church, the only remnants of non-electronic instruments being sax and trumpet in tracks like “R+X,” “Diffimation,” and “Shaïna.” Toujours Humain successfully distorts their classical compositional style rooted in human tradition into an industrial, synthesized album that sounds like it could be from the future.

Synths and synthesized choirs, off-kilter electronic beats, and industrial metal barking harshes lay down the foundation for Toujours Humain and its view of technology. Atop that base, Creatvre creatively branches out in a couple ways: the aforementioned Baroque influence in impressive counterpoint (“Hope Inc.”, “Chant des Limbes”), dancey industrial beats under trem picking (“Plus Humain”), vocoder (“Plus Humain”) and dynamic synthwave (“Toujours en Bas,” “Diffamation”). Fournier also explores several compositional assets that don’t work in his favor, like the constant industrial sections focused on rhythm much more than melody, the latter of which is Creatvre’s strong suit. Some tracks rely too much on those industrial cliches, too, leading them to be completely forgettable on the tracklist (“R+X” aside from its trumpet part, “810-M4SS”). Fournier’s vocals are also one-note, staying entirely within a small span of mid-range harsh growls, with an odd whispered quality from multilayering, that feel out of place compared to the often exploratory and dynamic music on Toujours Humain. 

Exacerbating the middling industrial metal sections is a loud, fittingly over-produced sound. The strong guitar leads on “Syntropie” and “Chant des Limbes” get buried in a dozen different synth tones, which bleep, bloop, arpeggio, and provide a fat bottom end to the sound. No room is left for breathing in the mix—not that our cyborg counterparts will need air—in favor of a full, epic sound. The choral moments are the only ones that benefit from the loud mix, as they achieve a bombastic score-like quality, similar to Neurotech. The rare moments where fewer elements are moving around the sonic space in parallel are clearly where Creatvre excels; for instance, at 1:12 in “Hope Inc.”, Fournier isolates the main lead guitar with a single synth line to go into the Baroque-infused main melody in the “chorus” of sorts. The track also has a much more energetic swing than much of the rest of the album, mostly avoiding the industrial slog. 

Fournier gets his point across on Toujours Humain that man and machine are on an imminent collision course with his blend of old and new, but I hope that he rediscovers his more human composition because my still-unchipped brain prefers the symphonic black metal of Ex Cathedra over the industrial synthiness of Toujours Humain. Or, perhaps, I’m just too slow at evolving to fit the new technology and will be left behind as an embarrassing remnant of what our species was, fleshy and reliant on oxygen.

Recommended tracks: Hope Inc., Chant des Limbes, Diffamation
You may also like: Grey Aura, Neurotech, Keygen Church, Les Chants du Hasard
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: I, Voidhanger Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Creatvre is:
– Raphaël Fournier (voice, guitars, bass, synths, drums, trombones, trumpet, saxophone)
With guests:
– Ombre Ecarlate (additional composition)
– Cédric Sebastian (additional vocals on tracks 6-7)

The post Review: Creatvre – Toujours Humain appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Drone, ambient, post-rock (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Sumac, Sunn O))), Swans
Country: Connecticut, United States
Release date: 1 August 2025

A ghost yearns for escape from the house in which they died, contemplating the weeds that grow over their grave; a man sees the reflection of a familiar yet contorted face in place of his own in a bathroom mirror, slowly eroding his sanity; at the end of a hopelessly long corridor, blasphemous rituals force prophecy out of the mouth of a severed head. Stories of haunting tie a past that cannot be ignored to the present, occupying spaces both physical and mental. Kayo Dot‘s latest record, Every Rock, Every Half-Truth Under Reason, lives wholly in this haunted world, casting incorporeal shadows on doorways through amorphous, experimental post-rock and shrill, brittle drone. Can Kayo Dot exorcise the ghosts of their past, or will the specter of half-truths loom forever?

Reuniting the lineup from Kayo Dot‘s 2003 debut Choirs of the Eye, flashes of the group’s past manifest in elements of Every Rock. The spoken word passages that adorn “Oracle by Severed Head” and lengthy ambient piece “Automatic Writing” recall the poetry present in many of Choirs‘ pieces. The freeform post-rock from the debut is let even further off the reins as “Oracle by Severed Head” and “Blind Creature of Slime” contort notions of song structure and rhythm into something even more obscure and unrecognizable. What is noticeably new, though, is the presence of sonoristic drone pieces, sitting in high-pitched and microtonal chords for lengthy periods accompanied by hoarse harsh vocals. Lyrically, Every Rock is teeming with the paranormal, crafting imagery around desecrated bodies (“Oracle by Severed Head”), a paranoid decay of wellbeing (“Closet Door in the Room Where She Died”), and entities bubbling with indiscriminate hatred (“Blind Creature of Slime”).

The signature compositional style of Every Rock is one of sheer intractability: well-defined beginnings and endings seldom appear across its extended pieces, and tracks are labyrinthine in structure. Opener “Mental Shed” immediately introduces harsh vocals and gleaming organs with no fanfare, suddenly transporting the listener into a painfully bright liminal space that stretches endlessly in all directions. The only musical footholds are clambering percussion and faint, ephemeral woodwinds. “Closet Door in the Room Where She Died” embodies a similar form, being led along by shrill keyboards, menacing strings and woodwinds, and wailing shrieks from Jason Byron; occasionally, a ghastly choir vocalizes in response to the maniacal ramblings of the narrator. From this Lynchian compositional approach arises an ineffable discomfort and occasional terror as the scant elements that engender a sense of familiarity either quickly fade away in wisps of smoke or melt into something unrecognizable.

Every Rock‘s post-rock tracks are similarly esoteric, albeit with an execution based on heavy use of free-time rhythms and asynchronous accents. “Oracle By Severed Head” gently introduces jangly guitars, splashing drums, and placid woodwinds which ebb and flow around Toby Driver’s diaphanous vocals. Everything plays in the same oscillating rubato but on wildly different accents, as if the constituent parts are a stewing suspension where each component is magnetically repelled from the other. Near its end, strings congeal each element into a towering behemoth as the track builds into a massive climax. “Blind Creature of Slime”, on the other hand, is compositionally stubborn, sporadically iterating on a single guitar phrase underneath a forceful and powerful vocal performance. The track begins on its highest note, wrapping its tendrils around the listener’s consciousness and forcing them to face the narrator’s blinding hatred, but spins its wheels for a touch too long. There is an intentionality in its repetitious unease, but by the end, I’m broken out of the suspension of disbelief needed to buy in to “Blind Creature” fully.

Working in tandem with the subtle evolution in Every Rock‘s tracks is the overall album pacing. Many of the record’s most stunning moments are born from the contrast and transition between drone and post-rock. The transition from “Mental Shed” to “Oracle by Severed Head” feels all the more cathartic and dreamy due to the intense release from the former’s shrill synthesizers into the latter’s hazy and relaxed instrumentation. The petering out of “Automatic Writing” makes the explosive introduction of “Blind Creature of Slime” even more intense. Additionally, the break in the piercing organs in the final third of “Closet Door in the Room Where She Died” creates a stark and powerful silence after they etch into the listener’s consciousness for ten-plus minutes. The longest track, “Automatic Writing”, is comparatively weaker when looking at the other drone tracks. In concept, the piece is compositionally brilliant, slowly coalescing its constituent parts from a blurry fuzz into wistful ambient passages with longing poetry, delicate soundscaping, and ascendant group vocals; I just wish it reached homeostasis more quickly. Its mammoth introductory segment evolves at a glacial pace—even Driver’s vocals are rendered textural as notes are held out for remarkably long intervals. Were “Automatic Writing” edited down, it would likely have the same emotional impact as the aforementioned tracks, but stands as a bit too meandering to fully earn its runtime as-is.

Every Rock, Every Half-Truth Under Reason is a brilliant, though occasionally flawed, marriage of the relatable and the surreal. Ultimately, the record chooses not to exorcise its ghosts, but instead invokes them, asking the listener to share the space and embrace the discomfort of that which is unknowable and irresolute. By cleverly subverting ideals of song structure, rhythm, and tonality, Every Rock fully embodies the liminal spaces inhabited by that which haunts us.

Recommended tracks: Oracle by Severed Head, Closet Door in the Room Where She Died
You may also like: Khanate, Alora Crucible, The Overmold, Natural Snow Buildings
Final verdict: 7.5/10

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

Label: Prophecy Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Kayo Dot is:
– Toby Driver (vocals, guitar, bass, keyboards, organs, clarinet, flute, drums)
– Greg Massi (guitars)
– Matthew Serra (guitars)
– Sam Gutterman (drums, vibraphone, percussion)
– Terran Olson (clarinet, saxophone, flute)
– David Bodie (percussion)
With guests:
– Jason Byron (vocals, track 3)

The post Review: Kayo Dot – Every Rock, Every Half-Truth Under Reason appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: experimental black metal, psychedelic black metal, dissonant black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Oranssi Pazuzu, Blut Aus Nord, Ulcerate
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: 1 August 2025

A couple of my non-metal friends asked me the difference between black metal and death metal at dinner the other day, and I struggled to come up with a sufficient answer before finally deciding on “black metal focuses on atmosphere; death metal on bludgeoning.” It’s a drastic oversimplification, but how else would you describe the minutiae of extreme metal subgenres to people who would hear both as offensive noise? I was relatively proud of my off-the-cuff answer. British psychedelic black metal band Sea Mosquito certainly fit my miniature description of black metal as a wave of guitar, synth, and drums washes over the listener for forty-four minutes on Majestas. The record can be oppressively nightmarish, but without many distinct riffs, the atmosphere the group conjures is key to their success. 

The guitar parts function in the same manner as the synths—a background for the drums and rare lead guitars. From the swirly album opener “Organs Dissolved in Lacquer” to the dissonant closer “To Look upon Your Own Skeleton,” you are baptized in tremolo picking, awash in ambient synths. Occasionally, Sea Mosquito blesses the listener with a cleaner guitar tone, providing a lead above the murk like on “In Reverence of Pain.” Those moments with something more concrete to grab onto are godsends amidst the dark, hellish undercurrent. Beyond the guitars, the drums on Majestas are strong and dynamic. The drummer transitions between nice blast beats like on “In Reverence of Pain” to being the center focus like at 3:00 in “Organs Dissolved in Lacquer,” where he does monstrous cascading lines as if he provides the riff. While the rest of the band waffles about on their instruments, he carries Sea Mosquito’s inertia and rhythm—without him, Majestas has no movement.

Weirdly, Sea Mosquito leave the vocals drowning in the shadows while the acerbic highs would do well to create some clearer tension in their sound. When the vocals take center stage—the spoken harshes heralding the climax of “Ascension” and the spoken Arabic in the ghazal in “Ode to Wine” notably—are the moments when Majestas reaches its full potential. The lyrics, while difficult to parse except when vocalist Nuun switches into a more spoken register, are always interesting, contributing excellently to the cult-like atmosphere. My favorite track, “Ascension,” is elevated by its critique of postmodernism, with a crystal-clear uttering of “you will never feel the power of the sublime” leading into a bright, expansive, yet oppressive wall of sound as a climax. Many of the lyrics are inspired by Romanian religious scholar Mircea Eliade, and the literary slant is one of the album’s strongest assets in terms of atmosphere-crafting. 

But despite the many atmospheric strengths of Majestas, the emphasis on that aspect of their sound is the record’s downfall. Hardly a memorable moment is to be found in most of the tracks on the record, as it becomes an amorphous slog, more focused on textural style than songwriting substance. The album is nightmarish, psychedelic, and literary, yet the lack of sharp songwriting and forgettable riffs, while also mixing the vocals too low, is too much to overlook, leaving Sea Mosquito to be just another dissoblack album to add to the pile.

Recommended tracks: Ascension, In Reverence of Pain, Ode to Wine
You may also like: Decline of the I, The Great Old Ones, Haar, Omega Infinity, Noise Trail Immersion
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: I, Voidhanger Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Sea Mosquito is:
– Nuun – Voice
– Fas – Spirit
– Akmonas – Soma

The post Review: Sea Mosquito – Majestas appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Album art by Devilnax

Style: Progressive metal, progressive rock (clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Leprous, Porcupine Tree, Fates Warning, Pain of Salvation, Riverside, Agent Fresco
Country: Italy
Release date: 23 August 2024

If you’ve spent any time on the internet, you will have seen the phrases “copium” and “hopium” in all sorts of memes—from denial about their favorite manga character being dead¹ to wish-thinking Time II into existence (thanks Jari, you finally did it) to a hypothetical third party winning the US elections—their usage is rarely anything more than half-serious. When one of my main underground² darlings Kingcrow announced that their new album was titled Hopium—most likely blissfully unaware of internet meme culture—I had to do a double-take to rewire my brain because I knew for certain that these guys were serious about it.

Hopium continues in the rhythmical, electronic direction of The Persistence but is far less bleak in tone and brings back some of the band’s eclecticism of old in the form of zany electronic synths and latin guitar playing. In essence, Hopium is less mood piece and more prog, its experimentation not necessarily for any deep emotional effect as much as Kingcrow were just messing around for the thrill of it. Not that Kingcrow will ever completely ditch their dramatism or heartfelt sadness, but songs like “Parallel Lines” with its zany trance synths and sexy guitar solo or “Night Drive” with its mechanical synths and grinding riff in its final minutes are less moody and are mostly just really damn cool. Above all else, Hopium is a fun, dynamic prog metal album with high technicality, strong vocal melodies, nifty experimentation, interesting twists and turns, and a dark undercurrent of tasteful melodrama tying it all together.

Honestly, there is so much to discuss that I don’t even know where to begin praising the record. Should I talk about “Glitch” and its sing-along chorus that might be chorus of the year for how incredibly hype it is? Or perhaps you want to know about the stunning climaxes of “Parallel Lines” and its cacophony of polyrhythmic mastery and brooding synths, or “Losing Game” that erupts after repeatedly chanting “Now the curtain has fallen” over an increasingly anxious rhythm? Maybe it’s better to first talk about how the band still writes incredible mood pieces when they so desire like “New Moon Harvest”, “Night Drive”, and the title track? And what about the superb individual performances? 

That last part is probably worth expanding upon: Kingcrow is exceedingly rhythmical on Hopium, having drums, bass, guitars, synths, and sometimes even vocals work in tandem to create a tapestry of rhythmic elements that come together in a way that is as groovy as it is melodic and textured. Though I lack the vocabulary to do it justice, Thundra Cafolla lays down a monumental performance on drums. On previous albums he tended to play in a more understated way, often hiding polyrhythms in parts that seemed straightforward, but on tracks like “Parallel Lines” or “Vicious Circle” he really lets loose and the result is phenomenal. On guitars, Diego Cafolla and Ivan Nastisic provide a colorful twin attack, their styles ranging from sexy latin acoustic, to urgent Fear of a Blank Planet-era Porcupine Tree hard rock, to textural fingerpicking, to Leprous-esque staccato riffs, and more. I do still miss the guitar solos that The Persistence largely did away with as those were some of my favorites in the entire genre, but the two that we do get in “Parallel Lines” and in “New Moon Harvest” are incredible. Finally, Diego Marchesi sings his heart out, showing a newfound level of vulnerability in his voice on the softer parts—“New Moon Harvest” and “Come Through” being especially touching—and just being all around excellent otherwise.³

However, I do have some minor criticisms about Hopium. Primarily, the latter half of the album misses some of the urgency and faster pacing of the first half. Four out of five tracks are either slow burners or mood pieces, and though “Vicious Circle” is tighter and more upbeat, its pacing doesn’t come close to the final chorus of “Glitch” or the adrenaline-fueled latin fingerpicking of “Losing Game”. Furthermore, its chorus is the weakest one on the album. These issues compound and make the second half feel a bit slow and bloated even if everything besides the aforementioned chorus is great individually. Otherwise, the opener “Kintsugi” has an incredibly infectious main groove and chorus, but its ABAB structure doesn’t progress much at all and could have benefitted from either an interesting twist or two, or some flashy showmanship. None of these issues break the album or anything, but they do hamper its sky-high potential a bit.

Hopium provides an interesting development of Kingcrow’s sound, taking the electronic approach of The Persistence and marrying it to the eclecticism and extroversion of their earlier work, yielding an experience that is both deeply emotional and intellectually challenging. Though its second half can be a bit slow, the depth and sheer cool-factor of their writing more than makes up for it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to whiff some Hopium that their next album won’t take another six years to release.⁴

Recommended tracks: Glitch, Parallel Lines, Losing Game
You may also like: Ions, Temic, Rendezvous Point
Final verdict: 8/10

1. LOOKING AT YOU, GOJO FANS ︎
2. Well, not anymore. They were well over our monthly listener cap for the majority of the year so we’re only getting to it now. ︎
3.  Sorry Riccardo Nifosi: I have a terrible ear for bass, but I’m sure you did just as well! ︎
4.  Waiter, waiter! Could I order some more guitar solos as well? ︎

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

Label: Season of Mist – Bandcamp | Facebook

Kingcrow is:
– Diego Marchesi (vocals)
– Diego Cafolla (guitars, keyboards, backing vocals)
– Ivan Nastasic (guitars, backing vocals)
– Riccardo Nifosi (bass, backing vocals)
– Thundra Cafolla (drums, percussion)

The post Missed Album Review: Kingcrow – Hopium 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.

Album art by: Aria Fawn

Style: Progressive metal, melodic death/black metal (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Dark Tranquillity, Borknagar, Ihsahn (self titled), late 00s melodeath
Country: Minnesota, United States
Release date: 30 August 2024

Categorizing music beyond the basic descriptions is often frowned upon within the prog metal community: categorization creates expectation, which can lead one astray when encountering a band who tries to break the mold. I am someone who loves to categorize¹, though, for it gives me a language to discuss and absorb new music with. Sometimes however, it does indeed lead me astray, and today’s subject of review is one such case. Amiensus is back with the second installment of their double album Reclamation. My colleague Zach reviewed the first part, but somehow part two got lost in the reviewing queue and we’re only getting to it now, me being the one to dissect it. And good God, it took me a while to figure out what was going on.

Amiensus was advertised to me as progressive black metal, a genre which I typically associate with bands who prioritize emotion and/or atmosphere (think of Enslaved, Xanthochroid, Dordeduh, etc). After a while though, it dawned on me that though Reclamation Pt. II is definitely blackened, its guitarwork focused way more on inducing neck cramps than on evoking gothic castles in a snowstorm, leading me to think of the record as prog death primarily, and—given that Amiensus is generally melodic and uses a mixed vocals approach—my mind immediately went to bands like Ne Obliviscaris, Opeth, and Enslaved (given the black metal elements) for comparison rather than, say, tech death flirting bands like Death, Obscura, or Gorguts. Turns out though, Amiensus doesn’t quite fit with any of those bands either. Let me explain.

Whereas contemporary progressive (melodic) death metal acts like An Abstract Illusion, Ne Obliviscaris, or Disillusion tend to go for extensive, indulgent compositions focusing on grand, sweeping emotions to provide for adults what “my girlfriend left me and no one can understand my REAL and DEEP pain” type emo/metalcore bands provide for teenagers², Amiensus keeps their compositions tight and the music relatively upbeat, focusing primarily on head-bangable riffs and sounding badass. While their music is undoubtedly serious and cinematic, the emotions aren’t nearly as heavy as their contemporaries’. Amiensus is a metal band first and foremost, and their progressive aspects are used in service of that, coming in the form of crazy transitions, off-kilter rhythms, tempo changes, and extra dynamic, densely packed songwriting. In that regard, In Vain is probably the closest comparison: both bands take regular melodeath as a basis and amp up the complexity and technicality to become prog, and given that Amiensus also adds in black metal and Viking metal elements, which—in tandem with the cinematic aspect—bring about Borknagar comparisons as well.

As a metal band, Amiensus absolutely rules, showing an incredible acumen for riffage. Whether it’s the hard rocking main riff of opener “Sólfarið”, the machine gun fire assault of “Leprosarium”, the epic meloblack tremolo picking of “The Distance”, or any of the Gothenburg-style lead harmonies that permeate basically every song, Reclamation Pt. II barrages you with one quality riff after another. And that’s not all: Chris Piette’s ferocious work behind the kit elevates the guitarwork to even greater heights. His every hit is in sync with the complex guitar patterns, giving extra punch to the lower end, and his many mini fills provide micro transitions which adds to the dynamic feel of the music. The entire album is a walking highlight reel for the man, but “Leprosarium” in particular is a great sample track for his talents. On vocals, James Benson’s forceful harshes tear through the space with charisma, evoking a prime Mikael Stanne (Dark Tranquillity) in his delivery, and Alec Rozsa does a monstrous deeper, guttural growl. Benson also does the occasional clean vocals and has a lovely, mystic timbre similar to Lars Nedland (Borknagar). 

Speaking of Nedland, the man actually features as a guest singer on “The Distance”, a song which takes a step back from the record’s usual violent approach by slowing down the tempo and focusing on atmosphere. Programmed strings and hypnotic guitar chords act as the aural equivalent of a cosy blanket, resulting in plenty of room for Nedland to take center stage and work his magic. On one hand, the track is a bit too reliant on the guest singer for my liking, and I would have liked to hear Benson’s cleans duet with Nedland’s, but it’s hard to complain when the result is as magical as this.

Unfortunately for Amiensus though, I am Dutch, so complaining is in my nature and will thus find its way through the narrow cracks in Reclamation Pt. II. First off, the mastering is slightly brickwalled. On the bright side, this gives the guitars and drums a lot of oomph, but the loudness of it all does become fatiguing to listen to after a while, especially so when listening to Reclamation Pt. II right after Pt. I. When the band pulls all the stops (which is often), the wall of sound that the guitars and drums produce buries the bass completely, and even the harsh vocals can struggle to find a spot in the mix at times, let alone Benson’s clean vocals. This plays a large part in my second complaint, which is that the songs tend to devolve in nonstop riff assaults and lack clear hooks. If riffs are enough to hook you, you likely won’t have a problem with Reclamation Pt. II, but otherwise, the vocal melodies struggle to remain above the surface. Amiensus also doesn’t repeat sections a whole lot, so it can be hard to find something to latch onto.

I always find it fascinating how expectations can shape how we interact with art. My classification-seeking brain struggled to place Reclamation Pt. II, starting from thinking of the record as prog black, later moving onto prog death, and eventually realizing it was both but not quite in the way I was used to from either style. Though it has some issues with the production being too brickwalled and a relative lack of clear hooks, the level of the performances and near endless supply of amazing riffs makes Reclamation Pt. II a definite winner.

Recommended tracks: Sólfarið, The Distance, Leprosarium
You may also like: In Vain, Hail Spirit Noir, An Abstract Illusion
Final verdict: 7.5/10

1. Also known as being autistic ︎
2. This is not a diss, mind you, I love all of those bands for that exact reason. ︎

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

Label: M-Theory Audio – Facebook | Official Website

Amiensus is:
– James Benson (clean + harsh vocals, guitars, keyboards)
– Alec Rozsa (guitars, harsh vocals, keyboards)
– Aaron McKinney (guitars, vocals)
– Kelsey Roe (guitars, vocals)
– Todd Farnham (bass)
– Chris Piette (drums)

With guest(s):
– Lars Nedland (clean vocals, track 5)

The post Missed Album Review: Amiensus – Reclamation Pt. II appeared first on The Progressive Subway.