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: Black metal, atmospheric black metal, post-black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Emperor, The Black Dahlia Murder, Carach Angren
Country: Washington, United States
Release date: 18 July 2025

This year has seen no shortage of post-black metal releases. So many, in fact, that I’m overwhelmed with pings from Andy to check out this or that release in one of my favorite genres. I can’t keep up. But, as I let my Release Radar play the other day at my real job¹, a vaguely post-black track piqued my interest. I opened my Spotify window to see a track called “No Less Than Death” by… Abigail Williams? Damn. Truth be told, they are a band that fell off my radar ages ago for whatever reason. I remember them having a vaguely symphonic black metal sound—with a metalcore oomph. What I was listening to at that moment, however, reminded me of Numenorean more than anything: moody, resonant, and full of rich vocal harmonies before the raspy black metal vocals took hold. Strange to open up a review of an album by talking about the closer, but it’s how I was introduced to A Void Within Existence. Would the rest of the LP sink its teeth into me in a similar fashion?

To find out, I hit rewind. The first thing to grab my attention as A Void Within Existence opened was the bass work of John Porada. “Life, Disconnected” starts the LP off with a slow, dissonant crawl in which the bass is almost front-and-center. I love a black metal album where you not only feel the bass, but hear it audibly in the mix as well. “Nonexistence” commences in similar fashion, but opting for sadness over angry dissonance. The track wanders through a murky melancholy, and ends with a guitar solo full of breathing bends that twist your insides in David Gilmour fashion. My only gripe here is that it ends too soon, leaving you wanting more. But honestly, that might be my only real complaint about any of these songs: I just want more. And when a seven, eight, or nine minute track ends and feels like it flew by in half the time, is that even a complaint? Or just a sign something special is happening?

Though many tracks are emotive—and boy howdy, take your pick among despair, grief, wonder, or almost any other plaintive feeling—the beating heart within this …Existence is a tech-laden strain of black metal that is as varied as it is heavy. Much of that impact is owed to the drumwork of Mike Heller. You may know him from his contributions to about a million different projects and bands, including Fear Factory and Malignancy, but most notably for a handful of us at the Subway from his recent work in Changeling. He is credited here as a session musician, which makes me pity the poor soul that Abigail Williams find to play these blistering, hyper-technical drum parts on tour. “Void Within,” a furious and scraping black metal odyssey, showcases Heller’s prowess. His brute intensity and technical precision are cranked to eleven throughout the track. Lightning-fast double-bass, relentless blast beats, varied use of every cymbal at his disposal, and a flurry of whimsical fills on all of the toms come together in a performance that is both dazzling and tasteful—never showy for its own sake, but always exactly what the song demands (and then some).

A Void Within Existence would be a strong black metal release even if it were made up solely of songs like the aforementioned “Void Within,” or another glass-eating black metal track like “Still Nights.” But the veteran musicians that currently comprise Abigail Williams turn …Existence into something much more ambitious. You’ll know exactly what I mean when you listen to the whole of “Talk To Your Sleep,” which starts with the stankiest of down-tuned riffs. If I ever get a job hammering railroad spikes, this is the track I’m listening to for my rhythm and pace. What takes “Talk To Your Sleep” to another level, though, is the melodic bridge it eases into halfway through its runtime. It’s one of those elevating moments on A Void Within Existence that confirms you’re listening to songwriting that’s as emotionally intelligent as it is heavy.

From the fleeting strings and drifting keys that haunt its margins, to the earthquaking heaviness at its core, that emotional intelligence is woven into the compositional choices that comprise A Void Within Existence. Abigail Williams don’t simply stack riffs or pile on atmosphere for the hell of it. Rather, a keen sense of pacing and a dollop of emotive contrast provide the hooks that have kept me spinning this album repeatedly. Just when you think you’ve mapped the territory, the ground shifts beneath you—come for the nihility, stay for the empathy.

Take “Embrace the Chasm,” for instance. The song opens with a familiar black metal snarl—solid stuff, I think to myself. But almost on cue, as if Ken Sorceron (the everpresent frontman of Abbie Dubs) had heard my thoughts, the track pivots. Suddenly, gloomy arpeggios drift in, shadowed by echoing piano, pulling the song into a more introspective space. “We’re not aiming for ‘solid,’ here,” he seems to say—and the song isn’t done shapeshifting yet. In its final third, the track unfurls into something strangely serene, and almost hopeful. The melodies lift upward, carrying you into something both heavy and soothing. A black metal lullaby, drifting towards peace. In that shift from fury to beauty I feel the nuance that has kept me tethered to this genre: a rage giving way to release.

If you told me that Abigail Williams were going to drop one of my favorite releases of the year (and the cover art is taking my top spot in that regard), I would have been surprised. Not because I ever held any dislike for the band, but because I hadn’t thought about them in so long. They’d quietly drifted out of rotation. But A Void Within Existence has pulled me right back in. The album is moody, technical, surprising, and—like my favorite extreme metal releases—bridges brutality with beauty in a way all its own. Consider this my belated apology for ever letting them slip off my radar, and a nudge to make sure they don’t fall off yours.

Recommended tracks: No Less Than Death, Embrace the Chasm, Talk to Your Sleep, Void Within
You may also like: Valdrin, Illyria, …And Oceans
Final verdict: 8.5/10

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

Label: Agonia Records – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Abigail Williams is:
– John Porada (bass)
– Ken Sorceron (vocals, guitars)
– Vance Valenzuela (guitars)
With guests:
– Mike Heller (drums)

1. This will probably come as a shock to our readers, but working solely at The Progressive Subway wouldn’t pay the bills. Or even a bill. ︎

The post Review: Abigail Williams – A Void Within Existence appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Progressive Metal, Death Metal, Black Metal (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Opeth, Borknagar, In Mourning, old Leprous
Country: Finland
Release date: 13 June, 2025

A recurring conceptual puzzle that lingers in progressive music communities is whether artists can be considered “progressive” while treading over waters previously covered by other sonic adventurers. For example, a band can be technical in their utilization of progressive songwriting techniques, showcasing fairly unconventional compositions in the grand scheme of music creation. However, many critics will still complain that these bands are not “progressive” because their contributions have largely been done before. This stubborn desire that prog fans have for innovation creates tension with their love for music that replicates sounds established by influential artists in the scene.

It’s well within reason for these kinds of thoughts to creep in and out of one’s mind while listening to an album like Vitruvian Rays, the debut LP by Sargassus. It displays an interesting execution of many techniques spanning progressive death metal, melodic death metal, black metal, and jazz fusion. Additionally, Sargassus show an admirable ability to deconstruct the tropes of these genres and rearrange them in ways that we don’t often expect, but little provided here is particularly new or original – few times does it even offer material worth taking the time to come back to.

On a positive note, Sargassus display a talented understanding of harsh and soft dynamics in metal instrumentation. The drummer, Matias Rokio, often contrasts intense snare drums, double-bass kicks, and blast beats in moments of high impact with softer, jazzy, prog-induced fills in transitional interludes or moments of respite. The guitarist, Teemu Leskinen, begins nearly every track with a moody melodeath riff, and as the song progresses, mix and match levels of gain and distortion on that riff, and then alters that riff again tremolo-style during climaxes. Leskinen and Rokio mix and match these techniques with each other to obtain new combinations in moments, as though they are collecting them like trading cards. Vocalist, Matias Stenman, mostly sticks with deep, textured growls and gurgles, both of which sound notably experienced. On a few occasions, he will also present rather ominous, ritualistic chants that do wonders for the eerie vibe of the album. Bassist, Mertta Halonen, seems to be rather static, providing compositional continuity by keeping the other band members anchored in subtle grooves. The synthesis of these instrumental components creates a sound most similar to a band like In Vain, Opeth, or Dawn of Ouroboros. 

Sargassus often take riffs that sound derivative at first but develop them into something of their own. For example, the main riff from “The Lone Idunn Grows in Shade” sounds eerily reminiscent of “Dual Existence” by Enshine—a fellow progressive melodeath band—to the point where it almost sounds ripped off. Sargassus presents it acoustically, then they distort it, add growls, and slowly increase the intensity of the rhythm section. The riff is reverted back to acoustic, but now it’s backed with impressive-as-hell jazz-infused drum fills; then it’s distorted again and delivered through blackened tremolos accompanied by evil shrieks. As a cool down, the riff is presented undistorted acoustic again, this time, alongside some nasty growls which create a gestalt creepiness similar to the way Borknagar used to do aggressive growls on top of soft instrumentals. The execution is thoroughly fleshed out in an interesting way, even though I’m a stickler for riffs that sound like they’ve been done before.

The writing of “Pahat Veräjät” and “Carving the Veins of God” seem to have similar songwriting elements in mind; the former features sinister vocals and particularly progressive drumming, the latter having an ultra killer tremolo riff. These two tracks also showcase excellent band chemistry, each member contributing to a sum greater than its parts. Another outstanding track is “On the Shoulders of Atlas,” which subversively closes with an extended melody that lounges around with these layered guitar chords and ominous vocals. I love when tracks have unexpected song structures and/or close tracks unconventionally. However, the band totally missed out on developing this nice riff into an epic climax by building it up with a harsher intensity through their aforementioned black metal and death metal techniques. This extended closer could have been turned into a sublime climax and could have been the best track on the album, but instead ….

The rest of the tracks have less success. “Judgment of the Four” meanders around for a while and peaks with this super lukewarm guitar solo that doesn’t know if it’s supposed to be this glistening, melodic respite amongst the brutality or a showcase of technicality. The solo sort of rides a wave in the middle of the two, leaving it to sound rather unimpressive. The band seemed to go for a sound similar to An Abstract Illusion here (can you blame them?) but failed in execution. The other tracks that bookend the album are just boring. They don’t have catchy melodies, nor do they experiment much with the song dynamics like you would expect from a band inspired by Opeth or In Vain.

While the band showcases a thorough understanding of the contents of the scene they’re grounding themselves in, even pushing the bar in a few moments on the album, their success is too scattered and not compelling enough to make up for their flaws. I’d go further to argue that a lot of this debut is, in theory, doomed from the start since Sargassus takes too much from bands that came before them. Many of these influential bands had much greater creativity and presented more compelling melodies over a decade before Vitruvian Rays. If bands like Borknagar, Leprous, and Opeth can growl over melancholic riffs, jazzy drums, and the like—but do so with stronger hooks and more powerful emotion—new bands are going to need to think more outside the box to overcome the standard set by their predecessors.

Recommended tracks: Carving the Veins of God, Pahat Veräjät, On The Shoulders of Atlas
You may also like: In Vain, Dawn of Ouroboros, Stone Healer, Schammasch, Enshine, IER, Aenaon, Eternal Storm, She Said Destroy
Final verdict: 6/10

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

Label: Independent

Sargassus is:
– Matias Stenman (vocals)
– Teemu Leskinen (guitar)
– Matias Roko (drums)
– Mertta Halonen (bass)

The post Review: Sargassus – Vitruvian Rays appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Black metal, melodic black metal (harsh vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Emperor, Dissection
Country: Ohio, United States
Release date: 20 June 2025

As a ten-year old kid, I first discovered The Hobbit in my elementary school library. Its charm, characters, call to adventure, and perhaps above all, its meticulously crafted fictional world drew me in like no story ever has—at least in the literary realm. That initial enchantment naturally led to The Lord of the Rings, just in time for Peter Jackson’s films to hit theaters as I was finishing the books. I’ve returned to Tolkien’s saga many times since, and still revisit it now and then. As often happens, a love of Middle-earth opened the door to other high (and low) fantasy realms. Does your book have a map of a fictional world in the opening pages? Then I’ll probably check it out at some point.

Pair the allure of fantasy with my innate love of metal, and it’s no surprise that artists like Blind Guardian and Summoning quickly became favorites—bands whose music is conjured for a Tolkien-bred imagination. A few years ago, I was able to add another group to that cabal: Valdrin. But, unlike those who reinterpret familiar stories or put music to an existing lore, Valdrin have created a mythos all their own—a literary world inscribed upon black metal scrolls. I would be doing their work a disservice trying to summarize the hero’s journey of the titular character and his struggle with the malevolent Nex Animus, but suffice it to say: spiritual warfare, collapsing worlds, and existential dread are just the beginning.

Valdrin’s newest chapter, Apex Violator, continues their long-running saga of mythic chaos with a relentless, oppressive energy. While their previous album, Throne of the Lunar Soul, explored moments of triumph and sorrow amidst celestial fallout, Apex Violator is all sinister fury—a bit melodic, a tad fantastical, but pure scraping black metal cloaked in eldritch atmosphere. Scathing riffs wrapped in dissonant arpeggiation (“Ignite the Murder Shrine,” “The Muttering Derelict”), blistering percussion (“Poison Soul Vents”), and demonic, blood-curdling howls (“Veins of Akasha”) make up the bulk of this EP. We’re forgoing variety in favor of overwhelming force, here.

That dark force is made all the more sinister by various synths, keyboards, and choral chants throughout Apex Violator, lending a bit of flavor to the black metal cacophony. These elements are rarely the primary focus—they instead haunt the soundscape and lend an ominous sense to the EP. A standout in this regard is “Black Imperial Smoke,” whose macabre vocal chants can be nothing but cursed hymns echoing from the halls of a shadowy ruin. Additionally, the bridge in “Poison Soul Vents” has been stuck in my head for the past week, in no small part due to the deep, thrumming piano underneath the ominous guitar riff.

Still, I miss the sadness and grandeur that Throne of the Lunar Soul sprinkled around. Apex Violator is fairly one-note by comparison—little if any acoustic pensiveness, triumphant melody, or interludes for a breather to form those peaks and valleys that help create a truly standout album for me. This EP being a chapter dedicated to Nex Animus, I can understand why the atmosphere of the album is pure evil. I can’t help but wonder what pairing it with an emotionally unraveling latter half might do to elevate it, though.

As a standalone listen, Apex Violator may blur together a little, with little in the way of audible contrast. Yet, fans of the dark majesty of Emperor or the seething, melodic dissonance of Dissection will find much to admire here. Valdrin channels the phantasm of those black metal titans through the lens of their grim cosmology—and for the initiated, the fury of Apex Violator is another book of scripture. Map or not.

Recommended tracks: Black Imperial Smoke, Ignite the Murder Shrine
You may also like: Stormkeep, Caladan Brood, Gallowbraid
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Avantgarde Music – Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram | Website | Metal-Archives

Valdrin is:
– Colton Deem (guitars)
– Carter Hicks (vocals, guitars, keyboards)
– James Lewis (bass)
– Ryan Maurmeier (drums)

The post Review: Valdrin – Apex Violator appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Artwork by: Benjamin König

Style: Atmospheric Black Metal, Doom Metal, Psychedelic Folk (Mixed vocals, mostly clean)
Recommended for fans of: Alcest, Myrkur, Opeth, Panopticon, Primordial, Ulver
Country: Finland
Release date: 13 June 2025

A fun fact about me: I love a fun ghost / skeleton / creepy homie on some cover art. The crimson bone-buddy getting his bask on fronting The Last Ten Seconds of Life’s Soulless Hymns, Revocation’s spoopy tomb gracing Deathless, The Tritonus SkeleBell dominating Hooded Menace’s sixth LP; each one factored heavily into my listening interest. For as much as the music has the final say, never, ever underestimate the power of an attention-grabbing album cover. Maybe it matters less these days with the popularity of auto-shuffles and (probably AI-generated) playlists, but for me, careening towards middle-age and still fond of making record store hauls, artwork is the first thing I experience before ever considering “play.” And the best artwork often tells us something about what we’re getting into, a sort of visual preview of the aural secrets about to be uncovered.

So, when Nocturne—the seventh release by Finnish atmoblack doomsters Hexvessel—was recommended to me, I took one look at the ghosty fellow casting the ol’ “spectral sprinkle” over that sleepy, snow-capped hamlet isolated amidst a moody charcoal expanse and knew I had to give the album my time. Unfamiliar with Hexvessel and their oeuvre but with all my folk / black metal radars going off, I was eager to see if Nocturne’s musical offerings proved as winsome as the endearingly dreary (endrearing?) artwork. Or would this zesty spectre leave me dusted with disappointment? Grab your soul salt shakers, and let’s have a taste, shall we?

What struck me almost immediately upon firing up Nocturne (aside from the frustratingly ubiquitous practice of pointless openers in metal—titled “Opening,” no less) was how interrelated the music and artwork feel. Songs roll over the horizon like ghostly clouds, sketched in rainy-day hazes of fuzzed guitars, sprinkling in delicately-plucked folk acoustics amidst the ebb and flow of roiling black metal tremolos and hail-storm blast beats. Glimmers of death-and-roll cut through the gray on tracks like “Inward Landscapes,” adding spurts of energy to the haunting, often funereal backdrop of wailing guitars, doleful bells, and ritual-esque timbre of vocalists Mat Kvohst McNerney and Saara Nevalainen. Baleful synths carve out images of forlorn worship houses from the formless charcoal landscape (“A Dark and Graceful Wilderness”), wherein one could imagine frightened villagers huddling, seeking some measure of safety as this leering spectre drifts, steadfast and resolute, across their homes—I’m reminded of Count Orlok’s shadow falling upon Wisborg in Robert Eggers’ Gothic masterwork, Nosferatu (2024). Supplying terror not through red-teethed violence, but rather via sheer enveloping presence.

There is a mournful, otherworldly quality to Nocturne’s atmospheric blackened folk, especially in softer cuts like “Concealed Descent,” where morose acoustic guitar and violin take center stage alongside McNerney’s wistful cleans. The paganic dirge of “Unworld,” with its lurching, Brave Murder Day-era Katatonia opening riff, chanted vocalizations, and smoky heft, constructs notions of grandeur in decay; this small storied town, perhaps built upon the bones of ancient edifices, sundered by slicing winds of black metal aggression amidst the deliberate marching of funeral doom aesthetics. By the time closer “Phoebus” blows through, there’s nothing left, our spectral harbinger having folded man’s scaffolding back into the architecture of the (other)natural world. In many ways, I’m brought to the doorstep of Panopticon’s folk / black metal crossroads, except replace twangy americana with the dreamy plucking that seems to signify Finnish folk,¹ then toss in some slow and dolorous doom vibes for added flavor. Hexvessel have set out with a particular sonic palette and aesthetic in mind, and they do nothing to disturb it across Nocturne’s near-hour of play.

Which brings us to perhaps my only true gripe about Nocturne: like Spectral Bae closing in to sprinkle the town with his damnedruff, Hexvessel’s assemblage of fuzzy, doomed-out atmoblack tunes have a tendency to drift across the consciousness. Multiple times, I lost track of where I was in the album, lulled by a particular folky moment or vibed-out bridge before being shocked back into awareness by one of McNerney’s intermittent harsh cries or an equally intermittent energetic drum run. Sometimes, I found myself halfway across the album; other times, still wrapped in the ashen folds of a longer thread (“Sapphire Zephyrs,” “Inward Landscapes,” “Mother Destroyer”). This makes the album something of an “easy” listen, a record to throw on and just chill out to, despite the large swaths of razoring guitars and blasting snares. Lacking measures of more “conventional” structures, this is hardly an album to inspire sing-alongs, or even headbanging. There are no real central riffs, no sense of verse-chorus-verse dynamics for a listener to grab on to. This lends Nocturne an organic quality, affording a pleasantness to the experience—a dream-like effect—even if I’m often left struggling to remember where I was in the aftermath. More mood-setting than neck-snapping.

Fans of groups like Enisum, or fellow Prophecy partners Ceresian Valot will certainly find much to enjoy about Nocturne. Hexvessel thrum with the kind of naturalism that tends to lurk, perhaps overlooked, in black metal; everyone remembers the church burnings, the edginess, but this genre has been more than religion-bashing, murder, and hate crimes across its many storied decades. Nocturne, with its gloomy moods and pagan, almost druidic nature vibes, represents one of my favorite breeds of black metal. More about the journey than any singular sonic destination, Hexvessel’s latest may struggle to maintain my full attention at times, but there’s something to be said for the kind of album you can just… float away on. A fine dusting, indeed.

Recommended tracks: Unworld, Phoebus, A Dark and Graceful Wilderness
You may also like: Blood Ceremony, Ceresian Valot, Enisum, Nechochwen, Wolvennest
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Prophecy Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook | Official Website

Hexvessel is:
– Mat Kvohst McNerney (vocals, guitars, songwriting)
– Kimmo Helén (piano, keyboards, strings, guitars)
– Jukka Rämänen (drums, percussion)
– Ville Hakonen (bass)
With guests:
– Aleksi Kiiskilä (lead guitars)
– Saara Nevalainen (female vocals)
– Yusaf Vicotnik Parvez (lead vocals, “Unworld”)
– Juho Vanhanen (backing vocals, “Phoebus”)

1.  Assuming Finnish folk sounds like the kind Finnish metal bands employ. ︎

The post Review: Hexvessel – Nocturne appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Atmospheric black metal, dark folk (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Agalloch, Pantopticon, Ulver
Country: Italy
Release date: 9 May 2025

While admittedly I am a sucker for head-spinning technicality played with surgical precision, there is a nagging sense of exclusivity to the elite performances of tech death and progressive metal. To play pieces by artists like Archspire or Animals as Leaders requires a level of dedication to solely performance, meaning that expression of ideas in this space is relegated to those with perfect timing or those who obsess over recording details. Many folk-adjacent genres, on the other hand, often revel in a lack of technicality or absolute precision in favor of a more ‘organic’ sound, choosing to instead focus on the intent of the music and let the rhythms breathe more naturally. Heavily inspired by Agalloch, a landmark band in this more folky style of metal, Italian artist Esox aims to tap into this sensibility through the murky and predatory depths of lakes and wetlands. Does the one-man project’s debut release, Watery Grave, engender these primal sentiments, or does it go off the deep end in the name of a chthonic atmosphere?

At the heart of Esox’s sound is the namesake pike, a menacing freshwater predator with ultra-sensitive attunement to the movements of water and a penchant for lying in wait for its next victim among aquatic plants. Melancholia seeps into every moment of Watery Grave, depicting the final thoughts of a man who attempts to end his life by drowning. Tracks are often introduced with plaintive acoustic guitars and soundscaping, whether it be rain beating on a lake or the sound of creaking wood. From its waterlogged base emerges black metal intensity, replete with atmospheric tremolos and blast beats in free-flowing compositions that often culminate in a melodic solo. Pensive folk instrumentation sweeps in to gently carry tracks downstream after an intense prey chase; truthfully, Watery Grave is as much dark folk as it is black metal.

Watery Grave’s most ascendant moments happen when the folk instrumentation is given space to shine. The blast beats in opener “As I Descend Above the Water” are cleverly springboarded into by acoustic guitars and the sounds of rain, and the extended ambient section afterwards is euphorically woeful. Esox effectively captures an aquatic sensibility in the instrumental effects, as if the chords being played are a rippling disturbance on a placid lake. My favorite moment of Watery Grave is the intro to “Livyatan melvillei”¹, which sits in suspicious stillness as an ominous whale call is juxtaposed against the sound of creaking; one can’t shake the thought that something massive is waiting underneath the surface for a moment of inattention or vulnerability to strike. The metal sections, in comparison, range from enjoyable to frustrating. The opener’s black metal aggression works great as a piece of the greater whole, adding a sense of aggression to the placid seascapes and building to a melodic solo in its climax. However, the climactic solos across the black metal sections run into an unignorable problem: they’re just not played in time. The arpeggios on “Esox Lucius” and “As I Descend Below the Water” are in a fearsome rhythmic altercation with the drums as the guitars can simply never agree to the established beat, as if they were recorded completely separately with no checking to see if they work together.

Don’t get me wrong—I absolutely adore Esox’s aqueous sensibilities, and I think that in many instances Watery Grave does a great job of encompassing the listener in murky aquatic atmospheres through ineffably organic performances and unsettling soundscaping. But despite all the record has going for it, the prevalent off-time playing is just too much, almost to the point of being able to predict when it will happen next. My attention during Watery Grave should be directed to the lurking menace camouflaged by underwater flora. Instead, I end up focusing on whether an upcoming guitar arpeggio is going to line up with the drums, trying to make sense of the arrhythmic harsh vocal cadence, or guessing how long it will take the left and right acoustic guitars to sync again. No matter how powerful your atmosphere is, too much rawness and imperfection in the performance is going to create an unintended dissonance that actively fights against the underlying aesthetics. Of course, I don’t want Watery Grave to be an ultra-polished product with metronomic precision, but I at least want to feel some level of rhythmic cohesion in the instrumentation, and these slip-ups happen just often enough that it seriously detracts from my enjoyment.

Attention to detail is brought to many facets of Watery Grave, from compositional prudence to striking underwater ambience, and I wish that same level of attention was given to the performance itself. Esox has the makings for something evocative and brilliant; at this point, it’s just a matter of matching the sky-high ambition with a bit more experience. I’ll be more than happy to dive back into the pike-laden waters for future releases, but Watery Grave is a lake I’ve had my fill of.

Recommended tracks: As I Descend Above the Water, The Unbearable Cry of the Sea, Walden
You may also like: Gallowbraid, Nechochwen, October Falls, Botanist
Final verdict: 5/10

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

Label: Independent

Esox is:
– Esox (everything)

1. Livyatan melvillei is a particularly massive extinct species of sperm whale. The inclusion of saltwater sea life here does throw me for a loop a bit as everything up to this point seems to be focused on freshwater, but it should be pointed out that this is a redux of a previous Esox track, so its aquatic idiosyncrasy is not entirely surprising. ︎

The post Review: Esox – Watery Grave appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Atmospheric black metal, post-metal (Clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Summoning, Alcest, Sylvaine
Country: Norway
Release date: 4 April 2025

If you frequent online progressive metal spaces, you’ve likely seen memes of people deriding ‘slow-burn’ bands or tracks that generally don’t go anywhere. One I see often shows an ascendant silhouette with the caption ‘Tool fans fifteen minutes into the worst song you’ve ever heard’. Regardless of your opinions on Tool, the meme raises a simple-yet-effective point: there is nothing more frustrating than a slow-burn track that never truly ignites. So when I found out that one-man atmoblack project Eldamar had transitioned away from his magical, Tolkien-inspired origins to something more akin to long-form post-metal with the sensibilities of atmoblack, my eyebrow raised. Could Mathias Hemmingby distill his exploratory sound into a focused crescendoing fire on latest release, Astral Journeys, Pt. II: Dissolution, or does the record fizzle out before it can catch flame?

Astral Journeys II is the second half of a four-’Akt’ piece with a focus on the themes of euphoria in the moments before death. Each of Astral Journeys II’s ‘Akts’ are extended post-metal tracks that vacillate between Jeremy Soule-style orchestral atmospherics, jangly 90s alt-rock guitars, and cinematic buildups into atmospheric black metal riffage. Each piece features multiple buildups, starting more narrow in scope with a focus on approaching the buildup and then exploring ideas more freely within the crescendos. While harsh and clean vocalizations are peppered throughout each track, only the first third of “Akt III” features lyrics as a means of establishing Astral Journeys II’s point-of-view.

The prevalent symphonics work the hardest to sell Astral Journeys II’s ideas, used both as a tool for establishing atmosphere and later as a means to augment the more grand and cinematic moments. “Akt III” introduces the record with hazy, dreamy atmospherics and pulsating synthesizers, later swelling in tandem with a tempo increase and transmuting jangly guitar work into a vast technicolor expanse. In a similar fashion, “Akt IV” begins with Soule-style orchestration which later acts as a central focus for its climax, vamping what sounds like the first seven seconds of House of Pain’s “Jump Around” on repeat. Take that how you will.

This extended vamping at the end of “Akt IV” is a microcosm of Astral Journeys II’s flaws. The record undoubtedly features some gorgeous instrumentation and lush soundscaping, even throwing in a series of killer guitar/keyboard melodies to maintain interest across its runtime. At the same time, there is a nagging insistence that tracks must continue well after they reach their peak. Both of these Akts dawdle endlessly and end up massively overstaying their welcome. The “Jump Around” outro of “Akt IV” would be much more palatable if it wasn’t at the end of an overlong and bumbling journey and then repeated for three minutes. Additionally, the gorgeous buildup of “Akt III” and its subsequent cooldown would have made for a much more sensible end than extending the track a further nine minutes. Should Eldamar be interested in continuing this style, dialing back the song lengths just a touch and indulging in the pleasant interplay between orchestration and melody would bring a much stronger focus to the more compelling ideas that make up Astral Journeys II.

In the face of post-metal, it’s easy to decry any criticism of its length as an issue of patience, but Astral Journeys, Pt II: Dissolution is a prime case of a record resting too long on the laurels of a good idea. Its orchestration is undoubtedly lush and gorgeous, intertwining nicely with the keyboards and the more pleasant guitar melodies, but the approach of maintaining a climactic excitement after reaching the natural peak of a piece ends up wearing on the listener more than it keeps them in that initial euphoria. If patience is a virtue, then dawdling is a sin.

Recommended tracks: Akt III
You may also like: Ashlands, Karg, Unreqvited, Skyforest, Lustre
Final verdict: 5/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram | Metal-Archives
Label: Northern Silence Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook

Eldamar is:
– Mathias Hemmingby (everything)

The post Review: Eldamar – Astral Journeys, Part II: Dissolution appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Black metal, post-black metal, blackgaze (mixed vocals, mostly harsh)
Recommended for fans of: Numenorean, Astronoid, Alcest, Ghost Bath
Country: Romania
Release date: 18 May 2025

Maybe it’s due to my Pacific Northwest upbringing, but I’ve always found comfort in overcast skies and long stretches of dark. And while I don’t think of myself as a sad person, I’m drawn to sad music the way someone might be drawn to black clouds or the night feeling. I find a certain kind of beauty in melancholy that doesn’t ask for resolution—it just exists, quiet and steady, like a hard truth that no one is trying to fix. A song steeped in sorrow can feel oddly comforting, not because I’m looking to wallow, but because there’s something artful about the way sadness is shaped into sound—stretching melodies, choosing words more carefully, and making silence, yes, even silence, more meaningful.

Which is exactly what Genune’s Infinite Presence does. While the album is rooted in black metal and certainly makes a blistering entrance, it quickly reveals its true nature: a collection of tracks dripping with dejection but glowing with cautious optimism. Genune’s primary tool in balancing this duality is their guitar work. The tracks are driven forward with furiously strummed power chord progressions that loudly echo black metal’s punk ancestry, yet they’re imbued with bright, yearning melodies and chord progressions that wouldn’t feel out of place on an Astronoid record.

On top of these chord progressions, Genune layer arpeggiated melodies that cut through the noise like threads of light. Nowhere is this more effective than on “Little Fountains,” where the lead lines tug at the heart with a delicate ache. “I Want You Here” is another standout—its chiming guitar motifs echo like bells from a tower that simultaneously acknowledge a period of mourning as they ring in a new day. While sadness is in the soundscape, the melodies and instrumentation refuse to let the hurt wallow, pulling it forward one trembling note at a time.

Even songs that seem like they are going to break out of this mold eventually come back around. “To Not Grow Old” and “Stay a Little Longer” both begin in familiar dissonant territory wrought with scraping textures and scowling, raspy vocal work, but they soon shift into the same melodic sensitivity that defines Infinite Presence. These transitions are arguably the only seamless ones on the entire album; elsewhere, the shifts into different flavors of melancholy are a bit too abrupt or unnatural, sometimes even between tracks. “Little Fountains” feels like it ends in the middle of a thought not fully articulated, being interrupted by the intro of “Stay a Little Longer.” Some transitions also come completely out of left field, such as the switch into a distinctly synthwave extended outro on that same track.

Calling out an oddity such as that synthwave outro seems strange when zooming out on Infinite Presence since the album generally stirs in distinct influence from other genres to great effect. Streaks of 90s alt-rock and even Americana surface throughout the LP. The title track is an extended interlude that sounds akin to a withered, folksy blues song plucked from the rocking chair of a rural porch, while a lot of the melodic flow and instrumental textures in tracks such as “The Sun Will Always Shine” and “I Want You Here” wouldn’t sound out of place on an R.E.M. or Cranberries album. Yet, Infinite Presence is still a black metal album. Though not without its quiet and pensive, clean-sung, and post- bits, plenty of blast beats, raspy and harsh vocal lines, and scorching guitar work make up its core. The contrast might occasionally dip into Gimmickland—like that piano bit in “The Sun Will Always Shine,” which is simultaneously beautiful and goofy—but the emotional core is so earnest I can’t fault it for those brief detours.

In the same way a grey sky can feel warm, Infinite Presence holds space for both sorrow and solace. Without asking you to pick a side, it wants you to feel hope and despair, fragility and ferocity—and invites you to sit with all of it. While some fumbled transitions and rocky experimentation keep the album out of flawless territory, its emotional clarity and melodic ambition more than make up for its rough edges. Genune may still be working out the finer points of their fusion, but what they’ve created is something I’ll revisit: a black metal album that both aches and dares to feel hopeful.

Recommended tracks: Little Fountains, I Want You Here, The Sun Will Always Shine
You may also like: Zéro Absolu, Ultar, Together to the Stars
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Consouling Sounds – Official Website | Instagram | Facebook

Genune is:
Dragoș Chiricheș – guitars, synths, acoustic guitar
Cosmin Farcău – guitars
István Vladăreanu – bass, voice
Abel Păduret – drums
Victor Neicutescu – voice

The post Review: Genune – Infinite Presence appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Melodic black metal, folk metal, dark folk (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Agalloch, Panopticon, Ulver, Saor
Country: Utah, United States
Release date: 17 September 2010

The Cascadian black metal movement birthed many artists who reflect on nature through a Romantic framework. Agalloch traverse snowy landscapes, looking on at modern society through sorrowful eyes and a yearning for ancient mythologies; Wolves in the Throne Room bring these mythologies to life through incantation and reflective rituals; and Ash Borer cling on to the natural world as they anticipate our impending doom. Being from Salt Lake City, Utah, multi-instrumentalist Jake Rogers’ Gallowbraid project is geographically removed from the Cascadian black metal scene, but his heart is planted firmly in the scene’s aesthetics, style, and ideals. Singular opus Ashen Eidolon evokes the same heartbreak as Agalloch, taps into the same desire to ‘just become one with the moss’ as WITTR, and ruminates on the same fears of death as Ash Borer, all in a concise and urgent folk/black metal package.

Ashen Eidolon follows in the footsteps of Agalloch‘s landmark debut, Pale Folklore: mournful arpeggiation meets mid-paced crunchy guitars, melodic tremolos, and a raspy, world-weary vocal delivery. Intertwining the gravelly and heavy sensibilities are much lighter elements, like acoustic guitar, flute, and clean group vocals. The quieter moments carved out by folk instruments not only work as contrast against the black metal ideas, but are a force unto their own, acting as a springboard for explosive climaxes on the two extended tracks and leading along the pensive “Autumn” interludes. Compositions are nonlinear in structure, stringing along a series of contemplations that build into a larger narrative. Filtered through the lens of a golden Autumn forest, a Gothic Romanticism seeps through the album’s painful recollections of loved ones past (“Ashen Eidolon”) and the unease of coming to terms with one’s own death (“Oak and Aspen”).

Though undoubtedly imposing in scope, Ashen Eidolon dials back the cinematic approach of its predecessors in exchange for additional heft in its compositions. Each piece exudes a weighty kineticism through powerful, forward drum work and an uptempo punch; the end result is a masterful balance of plaintive heartbreak and fervent chthonic energy. “Ashen Eidolon” in particular opens with a roiling and hypnotic wall of distorted guitars, tearing through flaxen canopy while remaining grounded by wistful melodic accents. “Oak and Aspen” features soaring arpeggios, chunky drum grooves, and stunning walls of black metal trems, but leans into more melancholy ideas in its climax: the instrumental intensity is dialed back and room is given for Rogers to proclaim a quiet river as his final resting place among the aspen.

The use of folk instrumentation contributes greatly to Ashen Eidolon‘s grandeur, both in the longer tracks and the palate-cleansing acoustic pieces. “Autumn I” bridges the title track and “Oak and Aspen”, offering space to sit and process the opener’s intensity through gentle guitar work, dirging group vocals, and lingering flutes. “Autumn II” acts as an epilogue, its mournful guitars intertwining with warm flutes that hint at the sense of closure brought by the narrator’s death at the end of “Oak and Aspen”. However, Ashen Eidolon‘s most effective use of folk ideas comes about two-thirds through the title track, as ferocious tremolos rip and roar through the forest until they’re given pause by fast-paced, staccato acoustic strumming. The electric guitars and drums respond in kind, mimicking the acoustics and soaring high above the trees in ascendant splendor before gently gliding back into the woods on the backs of doomy chords and haunting clean vocals.

Adorning these arboreal peaks and valleys are reflections on the elegance of Autumn and contemplations on the nature of death. The title track takes a stream-of-consciousness approach to its lyricism, lines like ‘Gold and ochre / behold the tapestry of the Fall / There is a beauty, a certain subtle grandeur / In the withering that consumes us all’ ruminate on the ephemeral qualities of life through the lens of changing seasons. “Oak and Aspen”, on the other hand, is more story-driven, Rogers at first frustrated by his grief but ultimately accepting and even embracing it by the track’s end. Unable to define his sorrow as he watches the seasons pass, he contemplates how the trees that surround him experience death: ‘Do the oaks feel this distant pain? Can the pines offer me relief? / Have the aspens wept with the rain? Does the forest know this untouchable grief?’ The track concludes by finding solace in how death and change are are fundamental connectors of all things and that, even through heartache and suffering, not all is lost: ‘Through words of wind and verse of falling leaves / Its song is one of sorrow and days long past / The time is gone but the memories always last.’

Ashen Eidolon is a testament to death and the myriad ways it manifests as an agent of change. Through high-energy songwriting, evocative Romantic imagery, and earthen folk instrumentation, Rogers reminds us that there is beauty to be found in small moments, in nature’s inevitable decay, and in how our lives and bodies continue on in ways anew after our passing. The added heaviness in Gallowbraid‘s approach gives extra impact to its sentiments and establishes a stunning contrast for both its quieter moments and its climaxes. Even in the most barren of deserts, the spirit of black metal and the misty Cascades live on.

Recommended tracks: Ashen Eidolon, Oak and Aspen, Autumn I
You may also like: Fellwarden, Thrawsunblat, Cân Bardd

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

Label: Northern Silence Productions – Bandcamp | Facebook

Gallowbraid is:
– Jake Rogers (everything)

The post Lost in Time: Gallowbraid – Ashen Eidolon appeared first on The Progressive Subway.

Style: Dissonant black metal, avant-garde metal (Mixed vocals, mostly harsh)
Recommended for fans of: Rotting Christ, Behemoth
Country: Cyprus
Release date: 5 April 2025

Many black metal bands tout an ‘evil’ and ‘satanic’ aesthetic; among the grim and frostbitten band photos, becoming a Progeny of the Great Apocalypse, and embodying a trve kvlt lifestyle, imagery of hellish landscapes should be par for the course for the genre. After all, what hotter place is there to hang out for a black-metalhead than The Devil’s Condo? Well, on closer inspection, one finds that black metal is often missing that je ne Satan quoi, choosing to focus on evil acts instead of embodying the nature of the underworld. And that’s to say nothing of the myriad hippie black metal bands who write about nature and skirt the subject entirely.¹ That’s where today’s topic of discussion, Frozen Winds, come in: on latest record, Keys to Eschaton, the Cypriots aim to create a truly hellish experience, getting to the heart of all things twisted and incomprehensible. Does Keys to Eschaton open the gates of Hades to the listener, or is there a better chance of getting in when Hell freezes over?

Frozen Winds incorporate melodics and variety into their black metal base through adjacent styles, including heavy metal (“Theosphoros”), thrash metal (“Crown”), and doom metal (“Jesters of Desolation”). Additionally, a bevy of vocal techniques are used across Keys to Eschaton, from guttural bellows and throaty shrieks to clean verses and even throat singing. Tracks follow virtually no resemblance of a verse-chorus structure, instead exploring ideas in a free-flowing framework designed to transition between ideas from moment to moment. What ties this approach together is the unwelcoming and occasionally nightmarish atmosphere that pervades the record: unsettling soundscapes, manic vocal delivery, and dissonant riffs appear on nearly every track.

All of these elements coalesce in an experience that sounds as if it were actually manufactured in Hell. Frozen Winds invoke black metal’s Hadean sensibilities by searing them into every moment of Keys to Eschaton—the listener is unceremoniously sentenced to wander a vast oblivion, some places hopelessly expansive and others claustrophobic and cavernous. Ominous, incoherent whispers on opener “Theosphoros”, shrieking laughter and punctuated, dissonant guitar stabs on “Spirit of the Womb”, and foreboding throat singing on “Jesters of Desolation” and “Epiclesis to Amenti” work to remind the listener that the world they are exploring is designed for creatures wholly unlike them. The effect isn’t overwhelming, but it’s enough to elicit a surreal and existential discomfort along with a morbid curiosity that urges onward the exploration of its twisted crags.

While Keys to Eschaton‘s pieces are undoubtedly challenging and hostile, Frozen Winds are endowed with a compositional understanding that makes these extended stream-of-consciousness pieces flow with ease. Between variation in style and clever use of dynamics, the flow of these tracks tempers the hellacious experience and prevents it from teetering into frustration. “From the Caverns”, for example, begins with black metal riffage and overlaid clean vocals before transitioning into punctuated heavy metal, bouncing back and forth between these styles until the ground collapses underneath to a sparse bass line; hushed whispers join in, adorned by acoustic guitar. A standalone shriek pierces through the contemplative moment, mercilessly yanking the listener back into ferocious tremolos and blasting drums in one of Keys to Eschaton‘s most powerful and compelling moments.

Exemplary songwriting can only go so far without a solid backbone in instrumentation, however. Each track manages to have at least one moment of intrigue, whether it be the explosive interplay between staccato riffing and expansive tremolos on “Jesters of Desolation”, the soaring and deliciously melodic solo on “Io Agia Pantokratora”, or the idiosyncratic rhythmic stylings of “Crown”, which sound as if Tool were headlining a festival in the seventh circle of Hell. Unfortunately, Keys to Eschaton‘s instrumentation fails to transcend ‘decent’ most of the time, as its best moments come from dynamic compositional techniques and not from the riffs themselves. This means that individual moments of tracks like “Spirit of the Womb” and “Theosphoros” come across as relatively anonymous, serving more to contrast dynamics and style than to draw in the listener or create a point of intrigue. The comparative dearth of powerful riffs reduces any overall enjoyment of Keys to Eschaton from an exciting visceral reaction deserving of its vivid imagery to ‘this is a cool way to combine these ideas and form a piece’, preventing its expert composition from elevating into something beyond analytical interest.

Were every riff as compelling as those on “Jesters of Desolation” or “From the Caverns”, Keys to Eschaton would unquestionably sit as a landmark of dissonant black metal. Unfortunately, this is just not the case, as the main facet holding back Frozen Winds is a sense of underwhelm in their riff construction, attenuating the potentially massive impact of their diverse songwriting style. Don’t let this stop you from indulging in their hellscapes, though: little can hide the fact that Keys to Eschaton is put together magnificently, imparting harrowing compositions with a smooth flow that adds a shocking degree of listenability to its infernal aesthetic.

Recommended tracks: Jesters of Desolation, Crown, From the Caverns
You may also like: Thy Darkened Shade, Aenaon
Final verdict: 7/10

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

Label: Visceral Promotions – Facebook | Official Website

Frozen Winds is:
– AdΩnis (vocals, guitars)
– Panagiotis (drums)
– Sophia (vocals)
– Stelios (bass)

1. I make this joke because I am, in fact, one of those hippie black-metalheads. ︎

The post Review: Frozen Winds – Keys to Eschaton appeared first on The Progressive Subway.