Issue 2025-030
Blacksun — Karma Somnium
Depending on how you look at the euro-power scene, Greece may seem the last champion of the dying breed of music or its new locus-of-focus, where the flame keeps burning true and eternally bright, like an Olympic fire. Athenian sextet Black Sun, a fit paragon of the above, is well built into local scene, with minor releases dating back to '90-'00-ies, multiple compilation appearances and many shared members with other bands from the area.
Once the intro is over (a bit too long to my taste), nostalgia hits hard on neoclassic Last Chapter with an array of power metal's loved-hated clichés, including bravura melodies, harpsicord synth arpeggios and galloping rhythm. The song has literally enough cheese to let an Italian restaurant linger for a couple of weeks – and I shall be the last person on Earth to blame the band for that. When in Rome… sorry, in Athens! Immediate references include pre-Epica Kamelot and lesser-known fantasy-power bands like Dark Moor, but as the record plays on, moods are growing darker. While the subsequent Mirror still has these Kamelot influences of Thomas Youngblood's penmanship, with the next two songs the band jumps from cheesy power to epic and masculine heavy metal.
It would not be incongruous to compare the music to such underground “cult” projects like Solstice, Atlantean Kodex or Khemmis. Part of that is by virtues of Manos Xanthakis, the man with the microphone, who has a very decent set of midrange pipes in his arsenal, instead of annoying high-pitch vocals. Instrumental parts by the middle of running time also echo the trend – steady rhythms instead of double bass-drum speed; more hammered, muscular riffs and commanding delivery.
Genuine heavy metal for bald and slightly overweight bearded men. By song number six, we are back to romantic mood of the opening tracks with a ballad sung by Manos together with a female vocalist, again with clear nods to Kamelot, followed by my personal favorite on this record Forever Lost, with nice songwriting and pinnacle of band's dramatic skills. Not precisely prog, but clearly something above the usual genre patterns. Till the End misses the mark for me, while Light Remains makes a more successful attempt at straightforward power metal hit. If not for the synths arrangements in the background, this could have been a song straight out of Blaze Bayley arsenal.
With their sophomore long-play Black Sun cleverly balance between the commercial and non-conformist movements within the genre. Like in yin-yang, Karma Somnium always shows a tinge of one aspect in its antipode, and vice versa. Never too “trve” or too charts-hungry, this is a well-done record, than one can enjoy, remembering the halcyon days of heavy-power. Firm progheads, however, should keep in mind that this record dwells in completely different reference frames.
Bright Ophidia — Quiet and Calm
Formed in 1998, this troupe of Polish prog-metallers released three demos before unveiling their debut album, Coma, in 2008. Since then they have released three more albums. Preceded by two singles in 2019 and 2020, Quiet and Calm is their much-delayed fifth studio album. With two founding members (drummer Cezary Mielko and singer Adam Boguslowicz) still in the band, Bright Ophidia have had a remarkably consistent line-up since the beginning. This is my first encounter with them; and I like what I am hearing.
Quiet and Calm is a loose concept album, with the lyrics telling the story of various emotional changes that we experience in life.
The band show their genre-blending legacy with a clever fusion of alternative-metal and progressive-metal which crafts a series of intricately powerful soundscapes that are full of energy and unpredictable time signatures.
Bright Ophidia (promo photo)
I especially like the way that the band make use of the different textures offered by the twin-guitar combo of Przemysław Figiel and Marek Walczuk. The rhythm section of Mielko and bassist Grzegorz Popławski is equally inventive. Behind the microphone Boguslowicz can shift effortlessly between his alt-metal mid-range and a wide repertoire of vicious barks and harsh utterances.
The songs say everything they need to say within six minutes, but the band packs a lot of detail into every track. It's one of those albums that offers the best rewards if you immerse yourself to enjoy the sum of its many parts in one sitting.
For those that enjoy modern progressive-metal that mixes harsh and clean vocals and is not afraid to blend-in the alt-metal and industrial styling, then this is well worth a listen.
Chris Caffery — 20 Years Of The Music Man
Disc 2: Seasons Change (5:17), My Light (5:30), I Miss You... Sometimes (4:19), Last Time (4:05), Your Heaven Is Real (5:51), Why (7:25), Y.G.B.F.K.M. (4:09), Preludio (4:56), Abandoned (6:51), Then She's Gone (3:18)
Chris Caffery initially joined Savatage as a live musician, playing guitar and keyboards off-stage during their Hall of the Mountain King tour. Although he never played on the album, he features in the line-up for Gutter Ballet and performed on stage for the subsequent tour. Savatage reverted to a four-piece for Streets, but Chris rejoined for the recording of Dead Winter Dead. From then on he has been the band's lead guitarist.
Alongside Savatage he has been the guitarist for Trans-Siberian Orchestra (TSO) for almost 30 years, as well as brief stints with numerous metal bands such as Artension and Metallium, plus live runs with Doro, Metal Church and Tim Ripper Owens.
This comprehensive double-CD is intended as an all-in-one-place summary of the solo career he has also pursued across the past 20 years. Two thirds of the 21 tracks have been lifted from the six studio albums that Chris has produced since Faces became his debut solo album in 2004.
It includes just one new song: the very Savatage-like Do You See What I See Now. Three tracks (Sick Of This Shit, Glitter, and My Light) were previously only available as singles, while three others (I Miss You Sometimes, Last Time, and Then She's Gone) have never previously been released.
Chris says about his selection: "In 2004 I released my first solo record. I wasn't sure what to expect, I just knew I wanted to make some music on my own. It was a time when I had a lot of questions, not only about myself but where certain parts of my life were heading. The 'Music Man' in me decided to use my energy positively. I spent 20 years writing and recording and expressing myself, and the aim with this compilation is to put some of my favourite songs in one place."
It's a diverse mix. Playing to his vocal strengths, the most appealing songs are those that stay close to the latter-day Savatage recipe; best displayed on tracks like Fright Knights , Your Heaven Is Real and The Jester's Court. Elsewhere it's more miss than hit.
Music Man is an enjoyable slice of Americana. Pisses Me Off is something in the Kid Rock manner that does exactly what the title suggests. Glitter sounds like an attempt at writing a Christmas single. It should have stayed unreleased. What Child Is This is a folksy instrumental built on the familiar Greensleeves lament. Forever We'll Be is a very poor rock ballad.
Put in the second disc and you'll find that Seasons Change is an enjoyable journey in to the realms of melodic hard rock, albeit one that highlights the limits of Caffery's vocals. My Light is an impressive take on Queen's Seven Seas of Rhye. I Miss You... Sometimes could be latter-day Bon Jovi. Then She's Gone is another ballad that should have stayed unreleased, but thankfully we also have the Dio-esque guitar stomp and solos on Why. It's my favourite song here. Indeed, I do find the second CD is more consistent and enjoyable than the first.
Existing followers of his solo career will have at least two thirds of this already. For the curious, it serves as a good introduction to Caffery's life outside of his big-name bands. In the coming months you can see him in action, when Savatage play their first shows in Europe in more than 20 years.
Duo Review
Hats Off Gentlemen It's Adequate — The Uncertainty Principle
The self-deprecatingly named duo Hats Off Gentlemen It's Adequate have released their eight album The Uncertainty Principle. The line up remains the same with Malcolm Galloway (lyrics, lead guitar, synths, mastering), Mark Gatland (bass guitar, vocal engineer, guitars and synths, co-producer) with the occasional help of Kathryn Thomas (flute). The Uncertainty Principle is another of their story telling concept albums. This one looks at the early 20th century developments in physics that ended with Hiroshima and the Cold War.
It is a period in history that I am quite familiar with but even with that they managed to tell of one incident of which I was unfamiliar, on the title track.
Hats Off Gentlemen produce music that is song-focused prog that tells widescreen dramatic stories. They have detailed interplays between keyboards, guitars and bass. The percussion is, I think as no drummer is credited, programmed but it is of such a high quality that you don't notice. On some previous reviews Malcolm Galloway's vocals have been criticised but I like the characterful scratchiness and his sing-talk style (think Andy Tillison of The Tangent) and it fits these songs like a glove. There is an explanation, along with lyrics on their Bandcamp page if you are curious.
The album opens with Certainty that deals with how uncertainty smashed into previously held beliefs. It starts with quiet keys and picked guitar and a rather unsettling melody develops, half way and the drums come in, the pace quickens as piano and chordal guitars segue into a fine synth solo followed by a better guitar solo at the coda. The punchy Everything Changed rides on funky bass and a alt-rock attitude to the thick guitar sound.
Interspersed with instrumentals throughout the story telling, the short, fast The Ultraviolet Catastrophe riffing guitars and intricate piano runs makes it feel longer and you end up wishing it was. Copenhagen returns to the song focus with slinky bass holding it all together. There is a change with the instrumental Cause And Effect (But Not Necessarily In That Order) with jazzy piano runs and a disturbed rhythm. Kathryn Thomas' flute makes an appearance on the title track which builds to a critical mass of keys and guitars.
Another great instrumental follows (Inside the Atom) before The Think Tank gets its boogie on. Founded on a cracking bass line, a tribute to one of the bravest men who ever lived follows One Word that Means The World (Arkipov) and if you want to know what that word is have a listen to the song and see its attached notes. Between Two Worlds is a lovely piano drenched ballad and the final track Living with Uncertainty rounds the album off with funky Floydian touches with additional vocals from Ethan Galloway.
With its great cover art Hats Off Gentlemen It's Adequate's The Uncertainty Principle is a unshowy masterclass of melodic songwriting, performance and production that deserves to be widely heard.
The Uncertainty principle is Hats off Gentlemen It's Adequate's (HOGIA) eighth album and for me, their best to date. I love every track on this album, though word count constraints prevent me from commenting on them all. For those unfamiliar with their brilliant back catalogue, my dear friend Roderick Murphy has described them as "prog-punk". This certainly conveys a flavour of what to expect. With a title inspired by Heisenberg, it is refreshingly cerebral in subject matter and approach, but also hugely enjoyable and entertaining.
It is one of a wealth of excellent albums picking up on the Zeitgeist, tackling the more challenging aspects of our current cultural context. It is dark and, in places, sinister reflecting its themes, as Malcolm Galloway informed me: "Several songs have a semitone slide in key at transition points, which is intended to be a bit disconcerting".
Perhaps not a concept album in the conventional sense, as it has no linear narrative, it does has an overarching and unifying theme. The opening track, Everything Changed functions as an overture, and Living With Uncertainty a coda, with (again to quote Malcolm) instrumentals giving breathing space between lyrically intense sections in a deliberate structural choice. And a most satisfying one. Both Malcolm and Mark Gatland are master craftsmen. The songs are meticulously arranged chronologically in line with the real-world events to which they refer. One of the core messages of the album is that certainty is misleading and dangerous. I wholeheartedly agree in a political climate in which the loudest voices feel they have triumphed; overzealous certainty is not (and never has been) a force for the good in the world. The entire album is an eloquent plea for subtlety and nuance, of which there is an absolute dearth in the incessant clamour of social media, where opinions prevail over evidence.
One of the aspects I love most about my prog journey is always being on a learning curve. I knew nothing about the meeting between Heisenberg and Bohr until I heard the explanation about the background to the song when I heard it played live for the first time. Copenhagen is a richly atmospheric meditation on this encounter, sombre and permeated with melancholy, bringing a historical event to life with heart-rending vividness. Malcolm's vocals are saturated with world-weariness and resignation, tinged with the sadness of former friends parting ways. A sigh captured in musical form, its gently swirling melodic guitar so perfectly complemented by the warmth of the bass is breathtakingly beautiful.
Title track The Uncertainty Principle is also based on historical fact. Moe Berg, the American former baseball player turned spy, was sent to attend a lecture by Heisenberg in Zurich in 1944 during which he was supposed to decide whether to assassinate the physicist. He had three opportunities: during the lecture, at a reception dinner afterwards and while walking Heisenberg back to his hotel. The aptly ominous opening creates a sense of foreboding, the keys Morse code-like, alluding to the world of espionage and encrypted communication. Kathryn Thomas' exquisite flute delicately hovers, adding a further layer of texture and complexity. As Berg stalks his potential victim through the war-ravaged cities of Europe, the music assumes a mellow, soothing quality in sharp and unsettling juxtaposition to the task in hand. At 3 minutes 28, the mood shifts, articulating with consummate skill his inner turmoil over the momentous decision he has been selected to take. The doubts, the agonising, the awesome responsibility of being called upon to sit in moral judgment, all whirling around in his mind. Having arrived at the decision, the tension is relieved and the song ends softly with a lingering unease, the hints of Morse code resuming, the flute's final notes both ethereal and haunting.
Hats Off Gentlemen, It's Adequate (promo photo)
The most chilling track, The Think Tank, is written from the perspective of a strategic bombing planner, who might appear to the casual observer as nothing more than a humble office drone, but whose daily reality revolves around calculating how to maximise casualties. It masterfully encapsulates Hannah Arendt's striking phrase about the banality of evil. It is the dull quotidian routineness which renders the scenario horrific. The planners are just doing their job without giving it a second thought. It is not even that they are callous or indifferent. They are utterly oblivious. It is simply a set of calculations.
Moral qualms and scruples inundate him because he has stopped thinking in the abstract. This is why evil is able to flourish: it is easy to cultivate a sense of unperturbed nonchalance when not confronted by the blisters, the peeling skin, the face slipping off, the internal organs slowly liquefying, flesh melted from bone. When it is about harming 'the enemy'.
One Word That Means The World (Arkhipov) is archetypically HOGIA-n in subject matter. On stage they enquire jokingly: "Are there any Soviet-era submarine enthusiasts in the audience?" Arkhipov was a high-ranking naval officer who saved humanity with his heroic refusal to fire a missile, thereby averting World War Three. He symbolises having the courage to take a stance and suffer all of the consequences. One individual can indeed change the course of history. With a heady rock riff from the outset, punctuated by a sonar ping and a killer sing-along chorus, principled defiance has never been so joyous.
If pressed, given just how excellent the entire album is, I would choose Between Two Worlds as my absolute favourite. Having explored the destructive impact of the atom, this song addresses the more benign purpose of harnessing its power for medical diagnosis in an MRI scanner harnesses its power for the more benign purpose of medical diagnosis. In a Sliding Doors scenario, there are two possible outcomes. This is the most emotionally charged song HOGIA have written, and it could hardly be more brimful of empathy and compassion. Malcolm's sublime vocals are shot through with vulnerability. The lyrics are also beautifully understated. It searingly encapsulates everything a patient waiting for the results of a scan goes through: the trepidation, the agonising uncertainty, the dread, the physical and existential exhaustion of never quite knowing, the future suspended and potentially forever out of reach.
An everyday drama perhaps, but the stakes could not be higher and HOGIA approach it with the utmost tact, sensitivity, clarity and sincerity, in short with dignity. It is completely devastating in its beauty.
The Uncertainty Principle delivers a vital message in an era where dissent and opposition are stifled through mockery and bullying, substituting aggression and control for rational debate, sacrificing complexity for certainty. It may well appeal to the listener's more intellectual side, but is never the aural equivalent of a dusty neglected tome on a library shelf. It could hardly be more urgent or relevant and constitutes a truly brilliant achievement. At the risk of giving the impression that I am impervious to the warnings communicated, if there is one thing I can be certain of, it is that this album will definitely rank among my Top 10 of 2025.
Hats Off Gentlemen It's Adequate on DPRP.net
Ologram — La Mia Scia
Ologram hail from Syracuse in Sicily and were founded by bassist Dario Gianni in 2022. The line-up shows signs of a family affair, with Roberto Gianni on keyboards, and Lorenzo Gianni on guitars, plus Fabio Speranza on vocals, and Giovanni Spadaro on drums. Matteo Blundo acts as guest musician on violin and viola on some of the tracks. La Mia Scia ("My Trail") is the band's second album, following La Nebbia, released in the year of their foundation. I admit not having heard of the band prior to writing this review. How often I have written this sentence in my reviews during the past years - probably my most frequently made statement. I take it for granted that I have lost the overview given the abundance of new releases but regard this as a testimony of the fact that prog is alive.
According to the press info coming with the release, the lyrics continue exploring the existential themes of the first album, i.e. exploring humanity's quest for the meaning of life. So far, so vague. Not being familiar with the Italian language, unfortunately, I was not able to attach any concrete meaning to this lyrical concept. Given Fabio Sperenza's voice sounding emotional, melancholic, reflective, and a bit moanful in my ears, I assume that the trail described in these lyrics so far cannot have been without difficulties and sadness.
Ologram offer us listeners 8 tracks, altogether clocking at less than 36 minutes - a short LP. Consequently, the songs come across in a dense and compact format, without long instrumental elaborations and technical extravaganzas. The melodies are accessible, the choruses catchy, the soloing melodious. This means that it is a release which one might gain access to easily upon first listening, but bears the risk of a wear-out effect. Without being able to exactly tell why, I encountered a "déjà-entendu"-effect while reviewing this release. One reason for that could be the recurring song structures, many of which alternate between harder and softer passages in varying degrees. For me, this made the music somewhat predictable, however, not to the extent that I would have found it boring and annoying — because I do like the music as a whole. It has the elements of what I love RPI for melody, accessibility, melancholy, pathos), but lacks a bit the unexpected moments, twists and turns, rough edges, the passages that you can't get out of your head.
Most of the songs are in the mid-tempo range and I can't shake the feeling that the band could have released the brakes occasionally and come out a bit more now and then. The use of keyboards and guitars is well split, every instrument is given enough opportunities to come into its own. I would have liked the drums being given a more balanced sound in the mixing process. To my ears (50 years of listening to music may have taken their toll), in some of the songs there is too much emphasis on the bone-dry sound of the snare at the expense of the remaining drums.
My favourite track is the instrumental Descent, a piece of symphonic prog with an excellent combination of prog metal-like riffing, melodic synthesizer soloing and catchy violin playing. But also 1997, for its catchy chorus, Non Sarai for its melodic synth soloing, and Jacaranda for the 70ies vibe (PFM) it displays, are strong representatives of Ologram's performance on this release.
With respect to Ologram's musical style, the band categorises themselves in the RPI sub-genre of prog and cites Genesis, PFM, Marillion, Muse, Rush, and The Police as their main sources of inspiration. As far as these peer bands are concerned, to me this seems to be a relatively realistic self-assessment. Ologram's music indeed reflects an affinity for their music plus is reminiscent of what peers such as La Maschera Di Cera, La Coscienza Di Zeno, Il Tempio Delle Clessidre, and Cellar Noise are doing. However, these comparisons set the bar particularly high as far as the expectations concerning Ologram's music are concerned. The band does well to deliver on these expectations, but here and there it becomes apparent that their musical trail as a band only did start three years ago.
In terms of inventiveness, variety, musical diversity and elaboration, and technical perfection, to some extent, Ologram does not (yet) quite come close to the Italian peers, not to mention Genesis, Rush, and The Police. I assume that Ologram is not interested in "being like these bands", but rather in transforming the musical influences provided by them into their own specific sound. This approach, according to my assessment, has produced a pleasant release which falls under RPI, given the emotion, pathos, melancholy and symphonic style it conveys, but which also shows some neo prog elements and flirts with straightforward rock/pop.
Recommended to music lovers wishing to test the waters concerning their affinity for RPI and looking for accessible, catchy, melodic progressive rock with a melancholic undertone. I look forward to what "La Loro Scia" of this talented band will and what they offer us listeners on their forthcoming album. Worth keeping them on the radar.
Brendan Perkins — Stories From The Old Church Lane
One of the most cogent analyses of progressive rock emanates from Andy Edwards, who has now established himself as an influential presence on YouTube (my source for what follows). In particular, his discussion of the English aesthetic, which he describes as encompassing a love of the English countryside, a self-deprecating humour that pinpricks authority, a stiff upper lip and a less than emotional reaction to certain things. To his mind, it represents the antithesis of the grand theories beloved of European philosophers: "An Englishman's meditation is probably smoking a pipe and doing a bit of fishing". Although a gross oversimplification, Englishness can be condensed into a number of symbols: the Spitfire, hedgerows, cricket, unruffled tranquillity, the White Cliffs of Dover.
To me as a Scot, the English countryside is nature tamed, subdued and parcelled out neatly to serve human needs and demands uncomplainingly. It is the quintessence of human intervention. As an observer from a culture which defines itself in contradistinction to the English, this sublimation is the key: taming, suppressing, shaping, crafting, dampening down. Channelling emotions, subduing them to accommodate discipline and duty. Like a railway carriage full of bowler-hatted commuters in suits with their leather briefcases, only the rustle of the daily paper breaking the silence. The cultural stereotype of being English is about being reliable and steady. Nothing unruly. Nothing excessive. Measured purposefulness. Neatness, orderliness, tidiness. Stories From The Old Church Lane by Brendan Perkins is an exquisitely crafted jewel of English pastoral prog. Not on the grand scale as exemplified by Big Big Train, but all the more pleasurable for its unpretentiousness.
It exudes tranquillity like duckweed on a pond or the stillness of a canal, smoke emerging from the chimney of a dark green barge trimmed with gold; soothing like the cool shade of the holloway in the blazing summer sunshine. Gently unassuming and comforting in its familiarity without ever becoming fusty or cloyingly nostalgic. Both the cover and the title evoke a rural idyll unchanged by the passing of turbulent centuries, the spire pointing heavenward above the sturdy oaks.
The album opens with Another Eveningtime, in which the unnamed protagonists contemplate putting down roots in the village which serves as the backdrop and framing device for the stories of its inhabitants, old and new. Brendan's vocals are beautifully complemented by those of his partner, Helen Flunder, adding depth, nuance and richness. A heart-piercing, almost hymn-like guitar solo soars majestically before breaking out into an overtly proggy passage showcasing the breadth of Brendan's multi-instrumental mastery. The bass in particular, here and throughout the remaining tracks, is prominent in the mix and profoundly satisfying.
A more introspective section follows, in which the couple's voices intertwine as they soak in their surroundings, bass and percussion lending momentum as they arrive at their decision. Gently lilting keys merging strings and celestial choir bring us back down to earth with all the care and attentiveness of the first flush of love. The atmosphere evoked by the track exemplifies that of the album as a whole: neither groundbreaking nor flashy, but placid, uplifting and seductively melodic, beguiling in its English charm.
Olivia Ruth, who collects odds and ends with the sly and boundlessly curious assiduity of a magpie, depositing them in the village shop, is the first of the named villagers. Brendan's skills as a lyricist become apparent here, each item listed carefully selected for its associations with fond childhood memories and wider connotations of times past, whilst simultaneously conveying aspects of her character, their apparent randomness communicating her eccentricity. We then enter fully into her thoughts in a radiantly poetic flourish:
And when the sun came out she felt the force of the universe
And love was larger than anything warmed by the sun
The fields and rivers like melodies twisting the song
Inviting the storm clouds and blue skies to all sing along
My favourite track is Amelia's Wedding in all its life-affirming splendour, the tale of a misfit whom others had written off but who unexpectedly finds love. The interplay of bass and keys is strongly reminiscent of China Crisis in Working With Fire And Steel – Possible Pop Songs Volume Two, the overall laid-back quality with its seemingly effortless melodic opulence hinting at Pendragon's Love Over Fear. And just over five minutes in a guitar solo worthy of Mark Spalding, albeit delivered with slightly less emotional intensity, which dissolves with a diaphonous shimmer into the joyous closing section.
By contrast, Bram's Return (From Metro Fair) is more melancholy and pensive, faithfully mirroring the titular character's disillusionment, abandoning the glitteringly deceptive lure of the city for the village's peaceful embrace. Acoustic and electric guitars alternate as the mood shifts subtly, with a jazzy flirtation between bass, guitar and keys like the spiralling of butterflies in their delicate courtship dance, the ever-present piano finally coming to the fore to guide us homeward.
In spite of its brevity, Ned and Mary succeeds in condensing a life-long love into a few vivid images, like sepia-tinted photographs in an album retrieved from a drawer when a house is cleared. Touching in its portrayal, it leaves no doubt that they will be laid to rest together in the churchyard to spend eternity beneath a headstone slowly gathering moss until its inscription is worn smooth by time.
The album closes with Summer's End, in which the village congregates to celebrate the harvest festival. The barely restrained excitement of the locals who have assembled in the bunting-decked hall is palpable, punctuated by the stamp of their shoes on the wooden floorboards, their giddy motion blurring the distinctions between them in joyful communion, as the elation gradually subsides to the sound of strings fading to the dictates of the dance's regimented choreography.
Stories From The Old Church Lane does not seek to bedazzle with gaudy and audacious experimentation or sweeping epics, but flows sedately, replete with details like the swirling eddies betraying the presence of the current, as the dark waters caress the drooping and languid branches of the weeping willow. With all the timeless pleasures of a balmy summer's afternoon, providing a refuge from the daily grind. I, for one, was more than happy to tarry there a while.