Issue 2025-066

E.D.O — The Past Is A Foreign Country

Martin Burns

E.D.O.'s debut release The Past Is A Foreign Country is a solo project by keyboardist Edo Spanninga. He is known as a founder member of the neo-prog band Flamborough Head, of which seven of their albums were well received here at DPRP.net (search here). He is also the founder of the symphonic prog band Trion, who are also well received in these pages.

Spanninga's new project stays well within the neo-prog and symphonic realm that was the favoured playground of his other bands. Using an array of vintage and modern keyboards as you would expect, but he also plays guitar, bass, drums, flute and strings. Giving this a release a rounded full sound. The album is a concept album that takes a look at recent history from the early 1940's to the present day using samples of political speeches and other pronouncements to shape the concept. There are no vocals, but it is heavy on the spoken word samples.

The album begins in 1942 at Wannsee, the conference venue for the Nazi's planning of The Final Solution. The music is terrific, opening with Watcher Of The Skies like mellotron chords that add in synths, guitar, flute and the rhythm section. This is overlaid with speeches from prominent Nazis as well as Churchill and Oppenheimer. The Berlin Wall and Cuban missile crisis feature on Stettin with piano and Hammond organ the main keys used alongside flute and violin in a melodic symphonic mix. Samples from Churchill Martin Luther King, Neal Armstrong and JF Kennedy.

You get the gist of the concept, so I'll just concentrate on the music. Houston hastens along on fast-paced drums, layered keys and filigree acoustic guitar with some great organ as it winds down. The tune of Rule Britannia introduces Port Stanley where organ is overlaid with an intense synth solo. Chernobyl interplays electric and acoustic guitars with organ in an up-tempo mode that drops for the samples. The final track with samples Mariupol returns to the structure of the opener with introductory mellotron, full band and solos from organ, synth and flute. A fabulous slice of symphonic prog.

The CD only bonus tracks are fully instrumental. The first Cathedral Green is a reworking of Edo Spanninga's debut solo release. Originally recorded for a 1999 multi-artist compilation album called e-Progeny on the Mexican Luna Negra label. It opens with rhythmic piano and picked guitar, then organ and synth battle it out until a synth solo dominates across tempo and volume changes. På Gata feels like Greenslade without the jazz rock elements and is a cracking end to the album.

So musically I find E.D.O.'s debut The Past Is A Foreign Country to be right in my sphere of interest with its classic 70s prog sound and leanings. However, on repeat listens I found the spoken word samples from various politicians and demagogues, whom I despise, to be irritating and ultimately off-putting. Maybe E.D.O.'s album would have been better released in a purely instrumental format or as with Joost Van Dongen's The Ageless Gate as a double album, one with samples and one without. I find this difficult to recommend in its current format.

Lars Fredrik Frøislie — Quattro Racconti

Thomas Otten

Given the broad interpretation of the term progressive rock adopted at DPRP and the resulting variety of artists and releases on our review pipeline, picking an album without knowing the band can be a bit like buying a pig in a poke. On the other hand, sometimes there are albums up for review on the list where my selection time is less than five seconds.

Such was the case with a new release from Lars Fredrik Frøislie, keyboard player and singer from Norwegian prog band Wobbler, and one of my most preferred artists.

I am pleased to have something in common with this great musician: being a huge fan of Italian prog in general and of Museo Rosenbach in particular. Lars Fredrik had the opportunity to record the song Un Posto Sotto Il Cielo together with Stefano "Lupo" Galifi, icon of RPI and singer of Museo Rosenbach back in the seventies, but also active with other RPI bands such as Il Tempio Delle Clessidre, C.A.P., the reformed Museo Rosenbach and as a solo artist.

I saw that song on Spotify, listened to it (already with a déjà entendu-effect, however), read something of 'new release' and switched off my brain. New release - that should have seemed suspicious to me, given that Lars Fredrik's second solo album Gamle Mester just came out in May 2025. Additionally, my knowledge of the Italian and especially the Norwegian was too poor to realise that "Quattro Racconti" and "Fire Fortellinger" both mean the same thing: "Four Stories". Therefore, this review somehow fell into my lap but provided me with the opportunity to re-listen to and review a great album (it was very high on my 2023 'Top 10 albums of the year'-list) with vocals from a different singer, and lyrics in another language, both of which I do not understand. I was also reminded that 'new' is a relative term.

The music on Quattro Racconti is exactly the same as on the original Fire Fortellinger. The Norwegian vocals by Lars Fredrik on the original are now done in Italian by Stefano “Lupo” Galifi from the legendary Museo Rosenbach.

That album Fire Fortellinger from 2023 was very positively reviewed on our site by my colleague Mark Hughes, and I fully agree with what he wrote. Lars Fredrik's music is a delight for a fan (such as me) of keyboard-oriented, 70s prog à la ELP, and Yes. Combined with that touch of melancholy inherent in the music of many Scandinavian bands (listen to Anglagard, Sinkadus, Viima, for instance), it shows a perfect blend of musical virtuosity, complexity and catchy passages with goosebumps-producing melodies and hooks.

Lars Fredrik is known for using, both with Wobbler and as a solo artist, analogue keyboards, such as Hammond, Mellotron, harpsichord, Clavinet, Fender Rhodes, Mini Moog, etc., something that even more expresses the 70s character of his music. On this release, as on the original one, he plays keyboards, and drums, whilst Nicolai Haengsle assumes the duties of the bassist. Guitars are not present, but don't seem to be missing. It's a keyboards album from a keyboarder, without them becoming overwhelming for my ears – they simply sound too diversified for this to happen.

I found the musical structure of this album to be quite symmetrical. Two complex, somewhat dramatic epics of almost equal length frame two calmer, melancholic, melodic and more accessible middle tracks also of almost the same duration.

Since original and current releases differ "just" in the language of the lyrics and thus the vocals (the quotation marks are deliberately placed), this review cannot avoid making comparisons between the two albums. Not knowing (because not understanding) whether Lars Fredrik's lyrics from the original album have been translated 1:1 into Italian gave me the opportunity to more objectively compare the same music with two different vocals. And indeed, to my ears, the combinations sound different, and that by and large is due to both the timbres of Lars Fredrik's and Stefano's voices and to the language itself the lyrics are sung in.

Lars Fredrik's voice is in the mid-range, soft and mellow overall, without any major vocal outbursts. It fits perfectly with the rather sombre atmosphere that prevails in the two long tracks. Stefano's voice is somewhat more expressive overall, sharper in its intonation and slightly more expansive.

When it comes to the languages in singing, I am a great lover of the Italian because of its melodiousness, smoothness, and the pathos and drama that are often inherent in it. Consequently, the difference of the two singing styles acknowledged above best comes across to my ears in the two more melodic songs in the middle section of the album. They sound more "original" 70ies Italian prog than the two epics, which are more like Yes and ELP with Italian lyrics. Of course, all of these are my subjective impressions, and to other listeners' ears, that may sound completely different.

For me, it was interesting to hear how the Italian lyrics musically brought this release closer to the sound played by two of my all-time favourite prog bands: Banco, and PFM. The harpsichord and the synthesizer / Mellotron melodies of Un Posto Sotto Il Cielo, and Presagio brought PFM's marvellous songs Appena Un Po`, and Impressioni Di Settembre to my mind. Lars Fredrik's keyboard extravaganzas are reminiscent of the keyboard orientation displayed by the Nocenzi brothers in Banco's music.

So, which of the two releases is better? I don't think that is the issue here. For me, a musically outstanding album sung in Norwegian is now reissued with Italian vocals and remains at least as fantastic as before. Overall, I got the impression that with the Italian lyrics, the dominance of music over singing perceived in the original release has decreased in favour of the latter – vocals play a more significant role overall. Hence, the combination of vocals and music altogether became a bit more balanced to my ears. That's why, had I been given the opportunity to listen to both releases for the first, and at the same time, and had I been forced to favour one of them, I would have opted for Quattro Racconti. My fondness for Italian prog also contributed significantly to this decision. Up to you listeners to make your choice. Anyway: highly recommended!

The Great White Nothing — Passage I Melancholia

Calum Gibson

“We took that awe-inspiring, freezing abyss and brought it to life as The Great White Nothing”. If there ever was a sentence to get my interest in an album – that is it. The group hail from Belgium and, for their debt album, have drawn inspiration from the harsh and desolate reality of early 20th century Antarctic exploration. A bleak journey that yielded many moments of hardship and sorrow, but was a pioneering and true feat of humanity's endurance and will to explore.

Atmospheric, cold, and beautifully harsh — The album is one brimming with passion and excitement for new discoveries, but tamed by the brutal nature of the unknown. Soft passages yield to frantic vocal work and blast beats, which in turn fade to gentle moments of tranquility.

Movements of moody synths play across the album, mixed in with both gloomy and dark chord progressions, as well as lighter moments of calm and clarity. This definitely deserves to be listened to loud as a whole piece, despite the tracks being superb by themselves. For a debut album it is frankly fantastic – the greatest parts of all their influences have been combined into this sonic representation of bleak journeys, filled with hope and challenge.

Elements of modern prog, blackgaze, post-metal, and more, are seamlessly blended and merged to form something altogether striking. Tightly controlled chaos looms across the bow at several points, giving visualisations of the cruel conditions the early explorers would have faced. However, it also fades back down to soothing keys and minimalism, like the vast glittering emptiness found in many areas of the Antarctic desert.

Any fan of post-metal and blackgaze should at least have a listen. Especially if you are a fan of groups like Deafheaven, Vattnett (AKA Vattnett Viskar), Wolves in the Throne Room, Solstafir or Enslaved.

Huis — A Huis Clos

Greg Cummins

Huis arrives in 2025 with the confident gait of a band who know exactly where they've been and more impressively, where they're going. I must admit I was bracing myself for polished neo-prog because Huis has made their name there, but this new album takes things to another level. It offers some truly innovative newer material and adding some clever reinterpretations of older classics. The title may hint at “being shut in,” or "behind closed doors", but the music itself feels anything but confined. If anything, the album behaves like an excitable dog who has slipped out of the house and is now joyfully tearing up the neighbourhood flowerbeds.

The original pieces are the spine of the album, and they show the band at their most articulate and emotionally focused.

Stolen, one of the album's longest tracks, is a shimmering essay in patient build-up. It layers keys, melodic bass, and earnest vocals in a way that almost dares the listener to interrupt — good luck with that. Structurally, it has that classic prog trait of taking its time, but here the band resist wandering off into a harmonic wilderness. It's adventurous, yes, but not the kind of adventure where you need rations and a map.

Qu'est-ce que t'as compris offers a more introspective touch. Sung in French, it feels like the emotional cousin of their earlier catalogue — more fragile, more open-hearted, more willing to sit with its own vulnerability. The shifts in rhythm and harmony are subtle, almost conversational; it's the musical equivalent of someone pausing mid-sentence to choose exactly the right word.

Beyond the Amstel, a revisiting of an earlier Huis composition, closes the album. This version feels wiser, like an older sibling revisiting a childhood attic and finding the memories still intact. The arrangement is spacious, reflective, and full of the gentle glow of craftsmanship that comes from doing something a second time and realising you can now do it better.

One of the album's great surprises is its generous slate of reinterpretations — a risky undertaking, since the prog community tends to view certain classics with the kind of reverence usually reserved for ancient manuscripts or good bourbon. Fortunately, Huis approach these songs with both respect and imagination.

Down and Out (yes, that one) takes a well-worn progressive rock staple and dresses it in slightly more contemporary textures. The drums have more snap, the synths more depth, and the guitars leap forward with a melodicism that feels very Huis. Being a classic Genesis song brings with it complex time signatures, and Huis certainly don't disappoint with their version. Let's just say the transitions are so smooth you'll wonder why your last relationship wasn't. Perfect Strangers brings brooding organ tones, atmospheric tension, and a vocal delivery that manages to be reverent without sounding like cosplay. It has that mystical slow-burn quality, but the band add a touch of modern sheen — like polishing an old lantern only to discover it still glows beautifully.

Man on the Hill is one of the more unusual selections, transformed from its original folk-leaning roots into something lush and meditative. Think of it as a campfire song that has been upgraded to a suite with a comfortable sofa and mood lighting, oh and a bonus pallet of Canada's best bourbon. Between the Wheels is bold simply because the source material is so rhythmically and emotionally charged. Huis lean into the tension but smooth some of the sharpest edges with layered keys and guitar phrasing that feel more cinematic than frantic.

Don't Be Late takes a punchy rock-prog anthem and stretches it slightly, giving it more room to breathe. The keyboards, in particular, glide in with modern elegance while the vocal delivery balances nostalgia with freshness. The Hanging Tree is the most dramatic reinterpretation on the record, echoing film-score sensibilities with its slow, gathering intensity. It feels like a cliffhanger in musical form — the sort of track that suggests something important is about to happen, even if you're just washing the dishes.

A Huis Clos is ideal for listeners who like their prog polished but not sterile, emotional but not overwrought, adventurous but still melodic enough to hum along without spraining anything. If you enjoy bands in the lineage of neo-prog — those who value both narrative sweep and harmonic sophistication — this album will fit you like a premium pair of Australian tailor-made budgie smugglers. And we Aussies all know how important it is to keep the wedding vegetables well-supported and comfortable while prancing along the beach and trying to look cool at the same time.

Fans of classic progressive rock will appreciate the reinterpretations, while newer listeners may find them excellent gateways to exploring the originals. In short: if you like guitars that sing, keys that glow, and drums that actually understand dynamics, you're in the target demographic.

With A Huis Clos, Huis have managed something deceptively challenging: creating an album that bridges their past, honours their influences, and still presents something new. It's cohesive, imaginative, and — dare I say — rather charming. It's the kind of record that invites you in, shuts the door gently behind you, and then proceeds to show you more rooms than you expected.

If I had to describe who Huis sound like on this album, I'd say they sit comfortably in the neo-prog tradition (think Arena, Pendragon, maybe even early IQ), but with a broader stylistic reach. As stated in my earlier review of their 2024 album, In The Face Of The Unknown, the music of Huis would easily appeal to fans of Kansas (sans violin), Comedy Of Errors, This Winter Machine, Marillion, Leap Day, Millenium (Poland), Mystery, Kayak, Knight Area, Red Sand, Galahad, Collage, Glass Hammer, Mindgames, Frost*, Nick Magnus, Neal Morse Band, Sylvan, and Downes Braid Association.

Their reinterpretations show a willingness to bridge classic rock, prog, and acknowledge certain cinematic influences. There's sophistication in their harmonic language but also genuine heart. They're not afraid to be lush, melancholic, or theatrical, yet they never sound overwrought. Rhythmically, there's a pleasing mix of tight meter and elasticity with some songs that swing, others that march while some expand into open soundscapes. The instrumentation is rich but not gratuitously virtuosic: solos feel earned; synthesiser washes serve the emotion more than the ego.

À Huis Clos is a daring, beautiful album — part séance, part celebration, part confident step forward. Huis manage to pay homage to some real prog and rock heavyweights yet they never lose sight of their own identity. It's not perfect, but its imperfections are part of its charm: sprawling when it needs to be, intimate when it matters. If you like your prog with heart as well as technicality and wouldn't mind revisiting some classic songs filtered through a modern lens, this album is very likely to resonate with you.

Spriggan Mist — The Glare

Béla Alabástrom

Beyond the comforting warmth of the hearth, in the twilight hush of the forest where the strands of lichen shiver in the breeze, among the moss-clad tree stumps, the gnarled and twisted branches, the discarded needles of the larch, a flicker of light, a strain of music, a half-glimpsed pair of antlers, a liminal and secretive domain the unwary may stumble upon. Beware, traveller; your curiosity may be your downfall. There is no return from the Spriggan Lands.

The Glare's cover art, depicting an unblinking and dispassionate, appraising green eye, heralds the return of a much-loved character from the previous album, the titular Isambard the Mechanical Dragon, a fearsome steam-powered beast who broke free from the confines of the fairground where he had been on ignominious display for the wonderment of gawping crowds whom he unceremoniously proceeded to incinerate. Having sought refuge in the skies, he withdrew to a cave piled high with coal for sustenance, concealed from those seeking to exact vengeance.

Gaze Of The Dragon immediately evokes an other-worldly realm, Fay Brotherhood's alluring vocals irresistibly beckoning us into Isambard's lair, the tremble of an echo hinting at the vast galleries of gleaming crystal beyond. Captivated, we barely register the door being locked behind us, as we irrevocably cross the threshold. The film-score expansiveness banishes fears of narrowing passageways constricting our breathing as we bid the mundanity of everyday existence farewell.

A recurrent theme is that of the unseen and capricious forces which govern our fates, whether the stars under which we were born or our own impetuous weakness in succumbing to our fleeting desires with little regard for the consequences. Ianatores Teresteres celebrates the two-faced god Janus, custodian of locks and keys, the doorways he presides over symbolising the choices which determine our future path. Immediately asserting its rock credentials, with a signature Spriggan heady pounding beat that seduces the feet into involuntary movement. Do not be deceived; this is not (to borrow from The Enid) "Aerie Faerie Nonsense", a lightweight and insubstantial frippery. Even the most exacting self-proclaimed arbiter of what constitutes prog must recognise that Spriggan Mist have fully embraced the conventions of the genre without the attendant fustiness. The pace slows for a glorious instrumental passage with dazzlingly talented and versatile multi-instrumentalist Maxine on descant recorder before Neil and Maxine's guitars again entwine like tendrils of bindweed imperceptibly coiling round your ankles to root you in place. Alternating between ethereal vocals and the rock riff, it finally powers down in a manner reminiscent of Muse's Knights of Cydonia. It is no accident that Ianatores was the first track to be released.

The faery folk are not to be trifled with, far removed from the benign sprinkle of wish-granting dust of the sanitised, palatably bland and whimsical depictions. They can be spiteful, curdling the milk and they can graciously show their favour in return for kindness, but always on their own terms. Faery Wood cautions us foolish mortals of the dangers of trespassing where we do not belong. Even a sun-dappled glade with a carpet of fragrant bluebells can prove less innocent than it appears. Fay's acoustic guitar is soothing, almost soporific, joined by the subtly lilting bass, guitar and percussion, Maxine's whistle hypnotically lulling us into a false sense of security. The dance of mutual fascination and obliviousness is interrupted by a tap on the cymbal, as Fay repeats the unheeded warning. Maxine's whistle the faery call as the dance resumes, culminating in sigh of exasperation from Fay. For time is out of kilter between the respective realms, one brief hour in the company of the Faery Queen corresponding to a thousand years.

Even the heretics who decried Isambard as nothing more than an infernal rust bucket worthy only of consignment to the scrapheap must now be forced to lay their humble tributes of WD 40 before his gem-studded talons in hope of being spared. The Cult unites Isambard's legions of devotees in the joyful communion of worship, no sinister mumbled chant, but a rousing incantation to stir the blood, guaranteed to reverberate around venues wherever the faithful congregate.

The album concludes with my favourite track, When Stars Collide, in which many of the themes are reprised. We are but hapless and unwitting pawns in a cosmic game of chess. Yet this is no dreary trudge through the slough of despond, but replete with the vibrancy and dynamism which are Spriggan Mist's hallmarks. It surges forward from the outset like the fans in the mosh pit when their idols take to the stage, never slackening in pace, Maxine's keytar solo soaring above indefatigably thrumming guitars. Then just over five minutes in, it opens out like an eagle in full flight emerging from low-lying cloud to an uninterrupted view across a pristine mountain range. A true goosebumps moment. This is the Spriggans' equivalent of IQ's Fallout from Neil Durant's stunning keyboard solo onwards, taking the composition to an entirely different level. Alto sax, ethereal keys, bass, guitar and vocals sublimely coalesce, bearing us skyward before tenderly setting us down in blissful solitude by the enchanted hawthorn.

With production values as sharp and glittering as any of Isambard's jewels, this is Spriggan Mist's finest work to date, the perfect alchemy between their pagan folk origins and their triumphant espousal of prog.

Traversus — Navigate

Andy Read

Well, this has been a thoroughly enjoyable discovery.

Traversus hail from a relatively small town in the north of The Netherlands. The quartet consists of Joey Wessels (lead guitar and backing vocals), Diko Eleveld (bass), Madelief de Groot (lead vocals and rhythm guitar) and Liam de Groot (drums).

I find it hard to imagine any part of The Netherlands that doesn't have a thriving music scene. But apparently the area that Traversus calls home has a very limited rock scene. Thus, unencumbered by live opportunities, the band has been allowed plenty of time to perfect their sound.

The quartet finally released their debut EP, The Only Way Is Through in early 2023. Then, preceded by two singles, their second offering is a mini-album entitled Navigate.

All six tracks extend to around five minutes. Whilst not ostensibly a progressive-rock or metal band, there is a complexity to the playing and the compositions that will reward those who seek a certain level of depth to their music. As the band puts it: "Our hard rock focus is enhanced with influences from progressive rock and metal."

Madelief de Groot is a real talent. Her sweet, higher ranger reminds me of Liv Kristine (Leave's Eyes), whilst I can hear Amy Lee (Evanescence) in her mid-range. The phrasing, harmonies and tone rekindles early memories of Lacuna Coil. Not a bad set of comparisons. She has an immaculate ear for a melodic hook, as shown on the second single Eye to Eye.

The riff work of guitarist Joey Wessels is dense, thick and heavy. I like his aggression and groove, under which the other members lay down some complex rhythms.

The first single Maybe In Another Life was accompanied by the band's first ever video and showcases a slightly more experimental, alternative side of the band's repertoire. I am reminded of American band Trope here. Dead Hands does the same thing but with a more-balladic approach. Both work really well, although for some reason No Way To Silence Me remains my fave song.

My only criticism is that there is absolutely no info about how you can get a copy of this mini-album (or its predecessor). The whole thing is freely streaming from the band's website (and other streaming services) but it doesn't seem to be available to buy anywhere. Which is a shame, as the quality of this release deserves more attention.

I'd certainly like a CD version. That's one sale at least! Even better, put both releases onto one package, set up a Bandcamp page and see where things go. Anyway, I'm not one to be offering career guidance, so let's just say that this is one of my best discoveries of the year. Traversus is definitely a name I shall be keeping an eye out for.