Issue 2025-061

Akenathon — Crónicas Intrascendentes

Martin Burns

Coming from La Plata, Argentina, with their third album Crónicas Intrascendentes (Inconsequential Chronicles). Akenathon follows up 2020's well-received Como Hormigas. Unfortunately, I find Akenathon's new album to be a bit of a chore to listen to, but more of that shortly.

Akenathon are a four-piece: keys, bass, drums and the dominant guitar of ever-present founder Aníbal Acuaro. The music sits between eclectic prog with a King Crimson fierceness alongside 70s classic progressive keyboards (Marcela Crusat) and a hard rocking but subtle rhythm section (Guillermo Rocca on drums and Fernando Chavez Gonzalez on bass). Which all sounds like my sort of prog thing. However, on this recording the dominance of guitar sound pushes out the fine work of the other three musicians involved. Though I can appreciate how good the guitar playing is, and Acuaro has some spectacular fretboard tricks, it just doesn't engage me.

Akenathon (promo photo)

This domination starts with the first track Queja De Un Bufón (A Jester's Complaint). It is a track that has a gothic steampunk edge to it, like a soundtrack to a long disregarded Hammer Horror film. The vocals by Acuaro, Crusat and Rocca are engagingly rough but easily digestible. The inventive keys are drowned out the overwrought guitar, happy to indulge in lengthy solos.

This foregrounding of guitar solos happens on more than half the tracks. The only tracks where this makes any real sense to me is on the blues-rock of Emma Va Al Kiosco (Emma Goes To The Kiosk) and on the gentler blues of Huellas (Footprints).

Where they play as more of an ensemble rather than as a guitarist's backing band, things improve a lot. The mid-paced and light-filled El Increíble Mundo Oculto De Los Hermanos Morosky (The Incredible Hidden World Of The Morosky Brothers) has lovely fretless bass and acoustic piano to add colour. While Vincent Y Los Cuervos (Vincent And The Crows) nods to Argentine musical heritage with the keys sounding like an accordion, punctuated by some heavy riffing rather than soloing from Acuaro.

If you have a liking for prog and rock with some up front guitar showboating, then this might be for you. For me Akenathon's Crónicas Intrascendentes is only partially successful and feels like a missed opportunity.

Krakhouse — Bastards Of Prog

Jan Buddenberg

Are you ready for this year's musical roller-coaster ride? One that will have you gobsmacked within seconds, and uncomfortably numb three freakishly exhausting hours later? Then join the unbridled fun and brace yourself for the most bewildering listening experience of your life. One that you'll definitely never forget, and quite possibly as a prog enthusiast, will forever regret. Unless your prog-purist vision perfectly aligns with that of Jesse Krakow, formerly of Time Of Orchids, Shudder To Think, The Shaggs, Fast 'n Bulbous and Dr. Nerve. He is the mastermind behind this crackpot conceptual debut album by Krakhouse.

Spanning three acts and conceived as a celebration and deconstruction of what people have come to know and love/hate about the genre, Bastards Of Prog brings a giant total of eighty-four songs that vary in length from a whopping 9 seconds to a modest mere 10 minutes. It comes with a 70-page companion piece, in which Krakow discusses why certain bands that he himself considers prog, influenced him and the album. It is quite an interesting read, actually. But that aside, for the music is challenging enough as it is.

Having reviewed some pretty bizarre music in the past, I decided to sit through the whole album from start to finish without interruption. This would have resulted in a mightily straining three-hour, brain-confusing marathon, had I actually succeeded. Which I clearly did not. Because many of the included songs (if not all, I hear you think) are extremely genre-transcending at their core. Just the first four tracks alone offer up a mind-boggling concoction of Frank Zappa weirdness, Psychotic Symphony insanity, gibberish Lerxst blabla-ing, atonal King Crimson, melodic funky frolicking, heavy Slipknot nu-metal, and math-rock that sounds inspired by Red Hot Chilli Peppers that also brought ZZTop's Manic Mechanic to mind.

And this is nothing compared to what Krakow serves up next. In a nutshell fallen from a walnut tree the size of a giant sequoia, this includes Canterbury, spacy weirdness mixed with blast beat rhythms, fiddling, alienating sound collages, funk, punk, rudimentary keyboard play, Schizophrenic song-disorders, squeaky mice vocals, unpredictable twist and turns, startling transitions, gamely super Mario Bros bouncy rhythms, and other far out bizarre Zappa like extremities.

Frankly, by the time When There's Nothing Left started I was fully clutching at straws to comprehend it all. And this particular composition, played by The Gregory Elementary School Jazz Band, made me lose the plot completely. Because it has the same underwhelming melody as the traditional Dutch nursery rhyme of Op Een Grote Paddestoel (On A Mushroom Big And Fat).

After these initial 24 minutes Krakow cracks on with an incredible unfathomable and highly fragmented stream of additional absurdities, odd-time signatures, goofy melodies, psychedelic layers, clumpy Nudbug Ensemble jazz, cacophonous banging, a visit by Miss Piggy and Kermit the frog, and other faster than light Zappa-related idiosyncrasies. Music-defying anomalies that feature just about every musical style known to mankind. And not a singular music genre per anomaly! It comes along with an amalgamated presentation of three to four different ones per minute.

Amidst all this hilarious musical craziness, Krakow thankfully also poops out something to hold on to. On The Mind Of A Bangle for instance, rocks like an Egyptian. Noodlin' 'N Doodlin' indeed features a noodling guitar solo. and What Happened To Kajagoogoo? takes one back to the flashy synthpop days of Limahl. Yet, these moments are scarce. And as to be expected, almost always interrupted by a dazzling sudden twist that throws listeners far into the deep end.

Satirically provocative (book quiz: the two words ending Hotzi Totzi Nazi are... yep, indeed) and extremely funny, Krakow clearly doesn't shy away from injecting unconventional subjects into his experimental upheavals as well. Take the smutty bodily fluids addressed in Emotional Cream, My Best Phlegm, and Snot Pockets. Or the expressed childish fixation for a certain male body part in the threesome of Penis Flytrap, Penis Flytrap Aftermath, and Magical Penis In The Backpack, generating a big disturbing mental image for the subsequently presented Jon Anderson's Unrequited Glazed Donut.

Frequently reminiscent of Spirit's bewildering Future Games, a reference arising from memory thanks to The Potato Song, there is surprisingly also the actual odd semi-traditional prog on offer in between all these extravagant absurdities. Two Five Fun shows some overlap with Airbridge. Phone Tag resonated with Klaatu. Out To The Lunch From Hell caters eclectic Gentle Giant structures. And the obvious Prog Song affirmatively delivers recognisable song structures and lyrical prog references spotlighted by guitar solo impersonating Trevor Rabin.

However, by that time traditional prog-fans will have likely dropped out. Although it has to be said that the further one gets into the album, the song/banality-ratio does seem to shift towards relatively fathomable 'songs' in a curious sort of familiarisation. Although that yielded impression could well be down to simple sonic saturation, insanity overload, and mental fatigue. Or a hyperbolic combination of all three in one anaesthetising go.

Featuring guest performances and additional cover songs from the likes of Captain Beefheart, Sisqo, and Alan Smithee, I assume the clear conclusion after all this foggy unrivalled creativeness isn't much of a surprise. The bonkers Bastards Of Prog boldly goes where no one has gone before. It comes strictly recommended for the adventurous avant-garde purist, blessed with an insatiable sense for the experimental extreme, and the rare conservative daredevil prog enthusiast who likes to experience their prog world turned fully upside down.

Lazersleep — Gravity

Ignacio Bernaola

You know those albums that slowly pull you in, without you even noticing? You hit play, and before long you're completely inside their world, the mood, the atmosphere, the whole trip. That's Gravity by Lazersleep.

This Finnish band clearly decided to skip both extremes on their debut album: they're neither heavy for the sake of it, nor too pretentious. Instead, Gravity sits right in the middle: spacey, dreamy, groovy, emotional, and always sincere.

Blending a small dose of post-rock, a nice amount of psychedelia, and touches of progressive ambience, it's the kind of record that makes you float a little. Bath opens the album and feels exactly like its title: warm, calm, and slow. The guitars shine, the drums sound relaxed, and the whole thing moves naturally, without any rush. If you're into the softer side of Elder or King Buffalo's spacey jams, you'll get the idea. There's even a faint echo of early Pink Floyd in the way they build atmosphere without saying a word.

Hot Stones adds a bit more heat, like walking barefoot on a road in summer, slightly burning, but in a good way. I know this sounds weird, but it was the first thing that came to my mind during my first spin of the album. Then Pond brings a cooler, more cinematic feel, full of echoing synths and gentle melodies. It's the perfect background for doing, well, absolutely nothing.

The final track, Gravity (Chapters III, I, II), is a 25-minute trip through changing moods, being calm, emotional, sometimes heavy, sometimes quiet. It feels more like a journey than a song. There's something hypnotic in the way they build tension slowly, without ever losing control. Imagine a mix between Motorpsycho and Monkey3, but more delicate and introspective.

What I really like about this album is how natural it sounds. There's no pressure to impress or to show off. The production feels warm and alive, as if you're in the same room with the band while they play. Gravity isn't made for multitasking. It's made for doing nothing at all or just turning off your brain and letting the sound take over. An album for doing absolutely nothing and loving every second of it. A debut that quietly surprises. Not a revolution, but a beautiful promise from a band that already knows how to build its own world, one slow groove at a time.

Minerall — Strömung

Jerry Kranitz

In the spring of 2023, three German musicians got together at Buffbergen Studios in Hanover for many hours of recorded jam sessions: Marcel Cultrera on guitar (Speck), Tommy Handschick on drums (Kombinat Robotron, Earthbong), and Dave "Sula Bassana" Schmidt on bass and synths. I could write a book about Dave. In addition to running the Sulatron label, he's played in a gazillion bands and solo projects. He records as Sula Bassana, has been in Liquid Visions, Electric Moon, Zone Six, Weltraumstaunen, and many more. Under the band name Minerall, two 20+ minute jams were released on the 2024 Bügeln album. And now two more lengthy workouts from the same sessions have been unleashed on the sophomore Minerall album, Strömung.

Strömung opens with a searing acid-drone wave. Drums take the lead, laying down a steady rocking foundation for the guitar, bass and effects as they create an acid-drenched swirl of rocking psychedelic space. The music constantly traverses between heavy and dreamy segments. One moment we're hurtling through stoner rocking space, but just as the G-force is about to rip our faces off, the band ease into pure liquid psychedelic slumber. Marcel excels at both ripping corrosive guitar leads and seductive melodic patterns.

Welle begins much more atmospherically, a bit like the opening to Pink Floyd's Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun. The guitar bubbles and gurgles against a slowly creeping rhythmic pulse, cutting a serpentine stoner-space path. The band pursue this theme, the tension and volume gradually increasing, exploding, but then receding, until just after the 7-minute mark when they settle into an acid-droning cosmic blend of stoner rock violence and tender mind massage, working up to an explosive molten lava finale. This is my favorite track from both Minerall albums. High-intensity space rock that recalls the spirit of Farflung's Cydonia.

In summary, this is awesome stuff if you like take-off-and-explore space/psych jams. It's freeform but maintains a firm direction. Dust off that old lava lamp. It's about the journey.

Rioghan — Live From Alimus

Calum Gibson

Rioghan, from Finland, have just released their new EP Live from Alimus. A follow on from their two albums, and featuring 3 tracks from the latest one Kept. Having formed in 2019, they have already supported Wheel on tour, and featured Jonas Renkse (Katatonia), Einar Solberg (Leprous), Teemu Koskela (ex-Celesty) and Vikram Shankar Pain of Salvation) on their works already. So with such a high bar of collaborators in the studio, this should be good.

Red takes a while to build, with minimalist instrumentations repeating for the first 5 minutes alongside Rioghan's gentle voice. Gentle and atmospheric, it slowly builds and grows until the final crescendo where it explodes into an intense release of passion with that gentle voice transforming into shouts, and the clean guitars into dirty chugs. Following this outro Hands lands with the same energy before levelling out into bass-driven verses and more fiery choruses for a catchy number filled with emotional intensity.

The final track on this short release is Here. Another powerfully emotional track, but more on a melancholic hope type of way, similar to songs like Everything by Anathema. Atmospheric and melodic, it is a nice and soothing finish.

A band to see live, I would say, or play loud. And definitely for fans of groups like Messa or The Ocean, Psychonaut or any of the groups from the guests.

Mark Trueack — Journey's Groove

Greg Cummins

Mark “Truey” Trueack has always been a singer with a strong sense of narrative. From his days leading Unitopia and United Progressive Fraternity, his voice carried epic stories about humanity, ecology, and spirituality through sweeping progressive rock landscapes. With Journey's Groove, he turns that storytelling lens inward — crafting a musical autobiography that celebrates moments, memories, and milestones from his own life.

What's immediately striking is how different this album feels from anything Trueack has released before. Gone are the grand prog rock arrangements, the complex time signatures, and the symphonic scale. In their place is a warm, earthy sound built around jazz, soul, funk, and world grooves — the kind of music that breathes and sways rather than soars and storms. It's not just a stylistic shift; it feels like a conscious act of reflection and relaxation — as if Trueack has decided to tell his story not through a spectacle, but through groove and feeling.

Each song represents a moment in his life, often tagged with a year, giving the album the sense of flipping through an old photo album with each page scored with its own rhythm and mood. The production is smooth and organic and is perfectly endorsed by Mark's unmistakable voice, which emphasises the rich and emotive style he is famous for. It is slightly weathered with age, but it anchors it all perfectly.

You can feel his joy in childhood-themed tracks like “Go Kart (1959)”, which bounces with brassy optimism and a touch of swing. It's playful and nostalgic without being sentimental. “Across the Ocean (1965)” has a loping rhythm that evokes travel and new beginnings, the sound of stepping into an unknown world with curiosity.

When the album reaches the “One Small Step (1969)” era, the tone turns dreamy and almost cinematic, celebrating a child's wonder at the Apollo 11 moon landing. The arrangement leans into lounge jazz and early-70s groove — perhaps a nod to the musical atmosphere of the time.

From there, the songs follow his personal evolution: “Running Away (1972)” moves with youthful energy, tight rhythm section work and bright brass; “That First Kiss (1982)” blends early synth textures with smooth soul, a clear love letter to 80s soundscapes.

Later tracks like “Reality Breakthrough (2002)” and “Love Becomes Mechanical (2018)” dig deeper — the grooves slow down, the harmonies darken, and there's a subtle introspection that feels genuine. These moments show Trueack not as the larger-than-life bandleader of Unitopia, but as a man looking inward, facing time and change with open eyes.

The final stretch of the record — “The Moment,” “It Is What It Is,” “Beginnings,” “Show Me How to Love,” and “Friends” — radiates gratitude. There's a serenity to these tracks, coloured by world influences and tender harmonies. The closer, “Friends,” feels especially heartfelt: a gentle goodbye and a quiet nod to the people who've shared his journey.

While the record undoubtedly has its moments, I feel the departure from what progressive fans have enjoyed for years, may deter some people from climbing on board. This is a bit if a shame as I understand there are more albums to follow, in this style