The third studio album by Kraftwerk depicts an interesting progression within the sound of the duo made up of Ralf Hütter and Florian Schneider, even if the album itself was later on ignored, and even dismissed by the band, much like the first two self-titled krautrock LPs of the Düsseldorf-native innovators. 'Ralf & Florian' is the first outwardly electronic release by the Germans and as such offers a myriad of experimental and avant-garde sounds and compositions, with the duo still under the influence of their early krautrock influence and its repetitive rhythms and entrancing tempo changes. Synths, organs, and tons of electronic effects are to be found on here - on a record that many critics see as one of the fascinating ambient efforts of the early 70s, also externalizing an influence from the Berlin School of electronic music.

A creative anticipation of 'Autobahn' in some respects, yet a very disjointed, experimental work in others, 'Ralf & Florian' is as inconsistent as it is genuine and innovative - an album that feels like a collection of underworked leftovers where certain traces of the music can be treated as excellent musical ideas, while others can leave you vexed and uninspired. It is an album of the polarizing kind, a fine avant-garde trial by two brilliant young musicians, but also an objective disappointment, due to the nature of the compositions and their overall relevance for the electronic genre. 'Elektrisches Roulette' is notable for its krautrock dynamics, an interesting jigsaw of sounds and effects, while a piece like 'Kristallo' reveals the more experimental, novel side of the Kraftwerk sound, as it is a challenging electronic track with interesting counterparts. 'Tongebirge' and 'Heimatklänge' have this ostensibly ambient affinity, together with the sweeping cosmic suite 'Ananas Symphonie', while 'Tanzmusik' echoes the trance-like qualities of previous Kraftwerk releases. There is a certain kind of necessity behind this album's existence, but its experimental and DYI electronic nature really prevents it from unfolding as a consistent work of art.

This album is a sure sign that less can be more. As others note, its a little post rock in vibe, like Godspeed You Black Emperor taking on Zeuhl. The title track, at half an hour long, is a slow paced and bluesy affair, hanging on a two note bassline, but its the background atmosphere and the percussion that make it. You can almost feel the drummer straining at his leash to add flair to the snail-like pace, and that's what makes the track so good. The distorted post rock atmosphere comes to the fore in the last five minutes too. The second track is a little more RIO-like, also making use of traditional Japanese instrumentation. Mostly violin and guitar led in the second half and for some reason less interesting than the first.

Wobbler's keyboard player is back with his second solo album. Lars Fredrik Frøislie's solo debut, 2023's Fire Fortellinger, was a pretty solid release. It didn't break any new ground, but I enjoyed it a fair bit. I do like Wobbler, and Frøislie's solo stuff is very much in the same vein. Gamle Mester (Eng.: Old Master) continues in the same general style, but it demonstrates some continued growth and development in his songwriting, which I like a lot.

Things fade in with an energetic, Baroque-influenced organ pattern on "Demring" ("Dawn"). Synths and flutes add some variation to the gritty organ. This is a peppy and exciting instrumental that acts as a wonderful scene-setter for the album. In quieter moments, there are some parallels to Camel. I really like that he's expanded his vocabulary a bit here. There's a certain cinematic feel to it all.

"Jakten På Det Kalydoniske Villsvin" ("The Hunt for the Calydonian Boar") prominently features harpsichord and flute. As elsewhere on this record, the atmosphere is lush and full of little flourishes that demonstrate meticulous planning.

Bass provides a lot of weight and punch throughout this album, but it's especially noticeable during the slower moments on this song. It provides a sharp sound around which Frøislie's multitude of keyboards can coalesce. This song shifts moods effectively, morphing from something high-energy to slower moments to tense and nervous passages that evoke the drama of this Greek myth.

Next comes the album's title track. A liquidus, rubbery synth and wordless vocals provide this song's main instrumental theme, and it has a grand, triumphal feel to it. After quieting down for a moment, the song builds back up, and the intensity waxes and wanes. Some twangy guitar accents lend a distinct character. This song might be a hair longer than it needs to be, but its internal structure is diverse enough that its length isn't too-too much.

"Medusas Flåte" ("Medusa's Fleet") has a lightly funky feel to it, augmented by clavinet and some deft work from the rhythm section. Camel influences are again recognizable, this time in the vocal melody. The song's instrumental midsection dips more into classic symphonic prog territory; synth and Mellotron predominate, and there's a lot of gravity, even in quieter moments. This song is also a bit longer than it really needs to be, but Frøislie's instrumental excesses are fun, at least. The mild bloat doesn't really detract from the overall experience.

The last of the major songs on the album is "De Tre Gratier" ("The Three Graces"), and right from the get-go, it feels like the record's climax. There's an urgency here which lets the listener know it's building to something big. An extended passage focusing on harpsichord and a gentler atmosphere lend some breathing room. 

Entering the final four minutes, the rest of the band joins back in, and a crunchy organ solo, supported by swooping Mellotron and fanciful flutes, push this epic to its apex. This passage bounces between being sprightly and folk-tinged to being (relatively) straightforward hard-rock retro-style prog, but it all gels.

Things wrap up with "Skumring" ("Dusk"), a piano-forward piece which delicately revisits themes from the album.

Gamle Mester is a very strong follow-up to Frøislie's debut record. It shows a greater diversity of songwriting, as well as a continued refinement of his craft. While certainly firmly in the vein of classic acts (primarily Yes), Frøislie manages to imbue these songs with a unique character and spirit.

Review originally published here: theeliteextremophile.com/2025/07/21/album-review-lars-fredrik-froislie-gamle-mester/

Three years after their last release, 2022's excellent Thank You from the Future, Moon Letters have returned with their third full-length album. I've mentioned a few times that they're one of my favorite local acts, and if you follow me on Facebook, you will occasionally see photos of their rather theatrical live shows. If you get a chance to see them perform, I highly recommend it.

My first experience hearing this album was at one of those performances. It was their album release show, and they played This Dark Earth in its entirety. That performance was part of a larger musical festival called Cascadence, formerly Seaprog. Occurring most Junes (there have been a few years it did not occur), it's a fantastic highlight of mostly-local progressive music acts.

"Energy of the Heart" kicks things off on a relatively mellow note. After that calm intro, though, it bursts into a complex and hard-rocking instrumental passage that leads into the first verse. The vocal arrangements are more complex on this record than on past releases, and I really like that. This song sees Moon Letters take a slightly heavier turn, drawing clear inspiration from early Dream Theater. Over the course of this song, the band expertly weaves together numerous musical ideas, ranging from funky instrumental excursions to stripped-back verses.

In contrast, "Silver Dream" dials back the intensity. There's a relaxed feel to this song's rolling rhythm, and it effectively cultivates a dreamlike atmosphere. It's less sprawling than the first song but no less enjoyable.

"Island of Magic Mirrors" eschews any introduction, opting to launch straight into a peppy verse. Flavors of post-punk are evident in the early moments of this song, and the slower middle section has a more lurching, slightly-off-kilter feel. They shift back and forth between these different themes, and it all gels in a very natural manner.

"Lonely Moon" is a mellow little acoustic interlude that acts as something of a palate cleanser, and following that, "In the Catacombs" sees the band dip their toes back into more familiar territory. It's an energetic cut full of flashy instrumental fills and surprising detours. The bass is especially rubbery and high in the mix here, adding some unique touches.

Wrapping up This Dark Earth is the 17-minute "Dawn of the Winterbird", their longest song to date. There are some fun Latin jazz touches in this song's opening moments. Things are fairly mellow, but there's also an underlying sense of tension. There's undeniable upward momentum as this first part progresses. 

After an exciting instrumental passage in which guitar and synth battle it out, the transition to part two is much quieter and calmer. The music is light and breezy with a laid-back pace, and it's a nice reprieve from the bombast found elsewhere on this record.

Part three, comprising nearly half this song's length, has a woozy wobbliness to its opening, and its pace remains restrained at first. Things quickly pick up, and soon the band is racing toward an exciting conclusion. Musical ideas from earlier in the song are revisited, and everything melds into a beautiful, cohesive whole.

Moon Letters' third full-length album is another strong entry in their catalogue. The band has continued to refine and build upon their sound on each successive release, and This Dark Earth is their best-realized record yet. They strike a great balance of influences from past prog giants while imbuing their music with a character all their own. Threading such a needle is very difficult to do, so it's always great to hear a band that pulls that off.

Review originally published here: theeliteextremophile.com/2025/06/24/album-review-moon-letters-this-dark-earth/

I don't claim to like everything. I know there are just certain styles of music which don't resonate with me for one reason or another. I can articulate why I don't like some genres (for example, most singer-songwriter stuff), while I struggle to find the words to describe my distaste for other genres (like reggae or ska or calypso; the Caribbean is just not my musical realm). Metalcore and post-hardcore are two styles of music that fall somewhere in between for me. I don't really like the vocals common to them (and many other "-core" genres), but there's also something else I can't quite put my finger on. Despite this, every now and then I find a band that I like that incorporates these elements into their music.

Firmament is an Ohio-based duo that plays an energetic and emotive brand of post-hardcore-influenced progressive metal. Yes, there are elements on this record which don't tickle me, but there's still plenty here that I like. And when you handicap this album for my built-in biases, A New World If You Can Take It is quite strong. This review is going to sound more negative than I intend it, but rest assured, I strongly recommend this release.

"Liquid Lush" starts the album off with some nice heavy and melodic guitar passages. The riffs vary from impactful to impressionistic, and the vocal performance is strong. The midsection of this song features some fun and jittery soloing that showcases the band's technicality without plunging into pointless self-indulgence.

In contrast, "Angels in Vermilion" has an airier, post-metal feel to it. The guitars are still heavy as hell, but the production has a certain lofty and ethereal quality. As I mentioned in the intro, I'm not nuts about post-hardcore, and some of the more majestic-sounding passages on this song lean into those genre tropes I don't like. There are good moments mixed in amongst the schlockier passages, but certain passages almost remind me of Christian rock. "Conduit" continues with stuff I'm not nuts about. The clean parts are too glimmery, and the heavier parts lack impact. There are some neat ideas in the guitar lines, but it's hard for me to get past the post-hardcore and metalcore elements I don't like.

"Lunar Caustic" is a 90-second instrumental that features some neat percussive elements, as well as an engaging lead guitar line. Following this is "Deadringer", which kicks off with a powerful and crushing riff. The guitar passages feature interesting irregularities, and I love the slightly-off-kilter feel the band cultivates here. Things slow down near the song's end, and this stripped-back, mildly electronic passage is a nice contrast.

"Decomposure" kicks off with my favorite riff yet. It's a fast, technical lick that really gets the blood pumping. I love the instrumental part of this song, but I'm not enamored with the vocals."High as in Low" continues with strong, exciting, and progressive compositions, and the vocals are a bit better here. It's still in that -core realm, which isn't for me, but the writing and performance is strong enough for me to enjoy it.

The title track starts off with echoing clean guitars and some shiny, electronic-influenced production. The mood is subdued, and the music has a nice and understated feel. Firmament's turn back toward metal is sudden but effective, and the band weaves together the opening's mellower composition with heavier tones naturally.

"After Me, The Flood" is big and melodic with some entertaining and flashy guitar work, but the vocals again kind of take me out of it, at least during the more majestic-sounding moments. I really like the intro of "A Prohibition on Dreaming". It's full of odd, twisting riffs that bounce around the fretboard, but the rest of the song, unfortunately, struggles to live up to this initial promise. The verses are too-slickly-produced, but the heavier moments shine.

"Benedictional" manages to thread the needle on gentler moments previous cuts have struggled with, but in contrast, the heavier moments bore me. The vocal melody again is not something I like, and it all feels a bit angsty for me. If you're a post-hardcore or metalcore fan, it'll likely tickle your fancy better.

The album ends strong, at least. "A Silence Made for Two" features possibly the heaviest music on the whole album, and I could make some comparisons to Meshuggah at moments. Lighter passages are well-deployed for contrast, and everything gels wonderfully. That is the last proper song on the album, with "AζΩθ" (AzOth) being a moody and atmospheric epilogue.

Firmament's sophomore album is fairly long, but there's a lot to like here. The band shines in their heaviest moments, and they are able to do a lot with a pretty limited set of sounds. Again, post-hardcore and metalcore are not for me, but despite that, this is still a strong release. If you like those styles of music, you could probably add another 10 or more points onto my score.

Review originally published here: theeliteextremophile.com/2025/06/09/album-review-firmament-a-new-world-if-you-can-take-it/

Following their groove-laden debut album last year, Norway's Sykofant have returned with 23 minutes of new music. It continues in a vein similar to Sykofant but with obvious development and artistic growth. Space rock, stoner rock, jazz, and blues all get moments in the spotlight here, and solos are included at fun moments. Early '70s Pink Floyd is an especially obvious influence on this release, and it borders on distracting on the title track. Overall, though, Red Sun is a solid release, and Sykofant does a great job of threading the needle of evoking classic prog sounds and tropes without coming off as hacky or derivative.

Review originally published here: theeliteextremophile.com/2025/06/02/odds-ends-june-2-2025/

Happy Family is generally considered to be one of the forefathers of the Japanese zeuhl scene. I don't think I'd necessarily call them a full-on zeuhl act in the same way as Koenjihyakkei or Bondage Fruit, but they've got some zeuhlish moments. This EP is their first release in 11 years, and it's celebrating both Cuneiform Recording's 40th anniversary, as well the band's 37th. The four instrumental cuts here are full of jazzy licks, wonky themes, and surprising twists. "Pygmalion" is punchy and peppy, and "Hypocrisy" sees the band dip their toes into something noisy and metallic. "The Flying Man" features jagged guitar and piano riffing in odd meters, and the album-closing "Itchu" leans the most into their avant-garde influences.

Review originally published here: theeliteextremophile.com/2025/06/02/odds-ends-june-2-2025/

The latest Neal Morse project certainly sounds like a Neal Morse project. And as usual, where Neal is the creative lead on a project, he has one question for you: "Do you have a moment to talk about our Lord and Savior: Jesus Christ?"

The music is fine. Do you like early Spock's Beard? Do you like Transatlantic? Do you have enough lactase in your system to handle the staggering amount of cheese here? Then you're probably going to enjoy this, especially if you like (or at least don't mind) the overt religiosity. There are some genuinely fun passages, and for all my quibbles, Morse is a very talented arranger. He's got his signature sound, and he's good at varying it enough between releases to (mostly) stay interesting on a musical level.

That said, this does suffer from some ills endemic to his other works. First and foremost is the album's length. Deep Water is 71 minutes long, and it is absolutely not deserving of that length. The most obvious culprits here are the 13-minute opener and the 9-part, 38-minute title track. There's simply an immense amount of bloat and music that doesn't really lead to or add anything. 

Secondly, it's Jesus. Like, I get it, Neal. You found God. Now find something else to write about. Or at least be less obvious about it. If I, an avowed lyric-zone-outer, am noticing how thoroughly you're beating a dead horse, try shifting topics. Or at least pick some obscure Bible stories. There's a lot of material there.

Review originally published here: theeliteextremophile.com/2025/06/02/odds-ends-june-2-2025/

Edensong is not a band I was familiar with before writing this review. They play a brand of semi-metallic progressive rock with significant folk influences. The band also has a dedicated flutist, so the comparisons to Jethro Tull are pretty easy. Those comparisons are also pretty apt, as Tull's influence can be heard throughout this record.

Our Road to Dust opens with the 90-second instrumental "Of Ascents". It's a pleasant enough little guitar piece, but it honestly feels more like an interlude than an introduction. This leads into the first proper song, "The Illusion of Permanance [sic]", and it's a pretty jarring shift. Jagged, wiry, metallic riffs emerge suddenly, and it's a really exhilarating, exciting composition. This piece clearly draws a lot from classic Dream Theater and Fates Warning, but with a more modern feel. The meter wobbles forward unsteadily, and the flute here almost sounds like an airy synthesizer. Melodic moments are sprinkled in for contrast, and the song ends on a quieter note.

"These Old Wounds" flows directly from the preceding cut, and it's got a much mellower atmosphere. Multilayered vocals and ethereal flutes give a dreamy feel at moments, but these are juxtaposed against more energetic passages.I also really like the band's instrumental tones; the bass in particular has a satisfying chunkiness to it. Despite a lot of strong elements, this song does feel a bit too long. It probably could have been trimmed down by about a minute.

"Black Crow" has an a capella opening, and the verse reminds me of Obama-era indie rock acts. There are electronic elements here, too, and this honestly isn't my favorite song. It feels incongruous with the first two pieces. On the plus side, there are some lovely folky instrumental moments that call to mind Comus or late '70s Jethro Tull.

Striking a middle ground between Edensong's more metallic side and the previous lighter song is "Hall of Statues". Acoustic guitar and flute provide wonderful, lush passages, and the band also deploys more aggressive tones elsewhere. The riffs are tangled and complex, and the vocal melodies are powerful.

"Book of Complaints" is far and away my least-favorite song here. The instrumental elements are mostly fine, if perhaps slightly stilted; but I hate the vocals. The specific tone of the voice and the melody both just disagree with my ear. It sounds like a big, anthemic indie rock song from 2012, and that is simply not a style of music I like. It's not even bad, per se. It's just simply not for me. 

Following that is a reprise of "Of Ascents", this time performed on flute. I like the weird breathiness of this version, and it reminds me of a spooky calliope.

"Wykkr Bäsct" bursts forth with a thrilling guitar riff and propulsive backbone. The band integrates their folk-heavy prog elements wonderfully here, and a guest violinist provides further auditory richness.  I'll reiterate my Jethro Tull comparison here. This instrumental sounds like it could have been some deep-cut outtake that was originally intended for WarChild or Heavy Horses (if you disregard some of the more metallic elements).

The album concludes with its title track. After a relatively subdued, folk-influenced opening passage, "Our Road to Dust" morphs into something much bigger and more triumphal-sounding. Edensong continues to mix their folky and heavy sides, with those elements playing off each other beautifully.

Overall, I really like Our Road to Dust. It's not a perfect record, but the stuff that I like is very strong. And even the pieces that didn't resonate with me weren't bad, necessarily. They felt a bit forced or stylistically incongruent, but they were still well-played and had enjoyable elements to them.

Review originally published here: theeliteextremophile.com/2025/05/26/album-review-edensong-our-road-to-dust/

Nuova Era is a band that was first active from the mid 1980s through the mid 1990s. Their sound was definitely retro, but it was more exciting and inventive than a lot of their contemporaries in the Anglo-prog world. Following their 1995 album, they took a 21 year hiatus before releasing a pretty solid return. Nine more years have passed, and they're back with their sixth LP. Consisting of just two huge songs (clocking in at 36 and 16 minutes), these suites cover a lot of ground. The immense title track is dramatic and emotive, and the many parts flow together fluidly. That said, I don't think it needs to be one huge song. It simply feels like a gapless album released as one track. The 16-minute instrumental "Nautilus", meanwhile, feels shorter than its runtime and is a great listen.

Review originally published here: theeliteextremophile.com/2025/05/05/odds-ends-may-5-2025/