So when The Pilgrimage showed up in my mail box, it almost went directly into my gun cabinet as a future target for next pistol shooting trip, but out of sheer curiosity I gave it a cursory listen, hoping it would be just as boring as the debut and I could move on with my life knowing another shitty band was still shitty and my initial review was spot on.

Well, I’ll be mother fucking dildo raped by a butch lesbian roadie in flannel…The Pilgrimage is pretty damn good.

And I”m not saying that because I’m still trying to get into the  pants of with Ms. Thérèse Lanz  and Stefani MacKichan (fuck fuck fuck, another shitstorm), ‘cos I blew that chance with my initial review or I’m back tracking from my original feelings on the band. I’m saying it because its true and I’m more than willing to eat crow and listen to the choruses of ‘I told you so’ from the bands fans. Though truth be told, I’m sure I’ll still be on the bands and the fans shit list, because ya ‘know,  in real life, I really am a sexist, anti Canadian pig and those folks have no sense of humor.

On to the the album at hand, Mares of Thrace continue with their sort of sludgy and discordant /hardcore/doom mix that has some similar traits to the likes of Kylesa, Grayceon, Subrosa and Made Out Of Babies. However, improvements in production and song writing have made Mares of Thrace a much more dynamic and listenable act.

Still an earthy, hempy band, Mares of Thrace‘s hues are rendered in a much more hefty and gritty fashion and like the female personality, blends moments of languid sensuality, hypnotic beauty, unpredictable moods shifts and pre menstrual histrionics (the perfect storm of shit storms coming?) into one seething ball of emotional vitriol. Look no further than the the closing 8 minute track “…and the Bird Sturgeon” as an ample window into the soul of Mares of Thrace, but that visage is contained throughout the albums draining journey, and all mingle the aforementioned elements into a confident sounding, feedback drenched caustic noise that has hints of vulnerability. You’ve got the crumbling, rumbling, sneer and screech of opener “Act I: David Glimpses Bathsheba”, the atonal, snarling percussive  tumble of “The Pragmatist”, the brooding build and controlled lurch of “The Gallwasp” and the gruff, angular assault of ” The Perpetrator”. But the albums more controlled and patient  latter stages offer a more refined and moody demeanor including the sultry grooves of “Act II: Bathsheba’s Reply To David”, smoky, moody atmospherics of “The Goat Thief”,  hazy instrumental ” The Three-Legged Courtesan… ” and the aforementioned excellent closer, which hits on everything Mares of Thrace suddenly do very well.

And so, this Crow is indeed rather tasty and all humor, sarcasm, and sexism aside this is a pretty impressive effort. I can see this duo making some pretty good sized waves should they continue this improvement and development into a pretty dang sturdy and respectable metal act regardless of gender.

Now- how about that date ladies? (nudge nudge, wink  wink).

While I have never really dug the current explosion of throwback thrash I have enjoyed some of the bands that mix a little thrash with some more modern and sterner elements like Skeletonwitch, Hemoptysis, early 3 Inches of Blood and such, and luckily Untimely Demise fits right in there with those bands; thrash backbone, a dash of NWBHM, some melodic death metal and some harsher Kreator -ish rasps, and the whole thing chock full of riffs.

Though only clocking in at 32 minutes and 7 songs, there’s enough solid music here to keep your interest and there’s a feral energy as well as a retro gloss that mixes into something a little more than a mere trend hopping retro thrash act. Opener “Virtue in Death” pretty much sets the tone for the other 6 songs with a galloping thrash riffs flocked with enough melody and solo work to make it a little more than a simple throwback. “Hunting Evil” opens with a classic bay Area riff and some nifty shreddage at 1:15 and 3:30 in. And while some may think the abundance of solos in most of the tracks are a bit indulgent, I found them to be not only well placed and played, they add a nice dash of energy to the songs, that typically rely on archaic thrash structures.

The album’s mid section features the two longest and more varied tracks in the title track and “Unmaker, both over 5-minutes long. The former has a nice chorus of sorts, while the latter initially hints at a epic ballad before delivery some stern, mid paced thrash riffage and Matt Cuthbertson mixing in some more traditional vocals in with his rasp . “Forger of Belief” gets back to a more direct, high octane tone,  while  “Streets of Vice” gives us a pure, classic thrash pace and hue.

The album closes with “Bloodsoaked Mission” a thunderous example of the bands modern yet retro take on thrash, with polished solos and melodies bouncing in and out of the cantankerous thrash effortlessly.  Overall a nice little find by Sonic Unyon, that should appease a wide cross section of fans, especially thrash fans old and new.

So now that we’ve got that out of the way, the only questions are how a band plays with and/or tweaks the laws and rules that allow a person able to tell that Cult of Luna is ‘progressive’ and Skindred isn’t and what they bring to the whole kit and caboodle that wasn’t anywhere in the first place. (Actually, I’d argue that Skindred is far more progressive than Dream Theater in the way it embraces genre laws and neatly twists the fuck out of them while being totally catchy.  But as Skindred is not about the ability to play really fast in very odd scales—to name the most obvious ‘progressive’ regulation–so they’re left out of some useful conversations.)

Anyway, Augury. File under French progressive metal, tech/death subdivision. Concealed is a remastered, bonus tracked, blablabla version of the band’s first record, originally issued eight years ago. Yes, it sounds prog, and yes, it’s so much more. A lot of that has to do with acoustic guitars, tablas and girls.

Augury does play by the constricting rules of genre—it’s a matter of stylistic élan, balls and, of course, brutality, that make them really interesting, exciting even.

For everyone in love with that progressive metal version of a skitzy Yes arpeggio, “Skyless” has your back. And if progressive to you means tri-tone-y, multi-meter riffs on the more grey side of black metal, then jump to “…Ever Know Peace Again”.

Tracks like that are reassurances. They cuddle up to the progressive/tech death consumer and whisper sweetly that nothing is amiss. But again, what’s cool about Concealed has to do with straying from the formula, with the band assuming that consumer will go along for the ride. (If they’re one of the 162 people who still buy CDs, they won’t have a choice, of course.)

And so the crashing waves of dark chords roiling the excellently titled “In Russian Dolls Universes” gain extra strange texture courtesy some rubbery, creepy, electric-girl vocals not unlike the rubbery, creepy, electric-girl vocals employed by bizarre-o-world Swedish electro pop duo The Knife. No argument–this is something you have not heard before. To a certain degree, and with aesthetic precision behind it, can there be a better recommendation?

Some lovely, classic “progressive” acoustic fingerpicking plays against a soft rumor of female angel voices in “The Lair of Purity,” counterpointed by madrigal male vocals. In short order, said female vox morph to full-blown operatics, some serious Diamonda Galas type shit. Then the actual metal kicks in with a grinding vengeance and the male vocals go all manly-growly and suddenly we’re in Rotting Christ territory, which I gotta tell you, I totally did not expect. And by the way, all the femme vox are courtesy one Arianne Fleury, and color me impressed.

One of Augury’s endearing perversities is to intro tracks with soundscapes that are begging to accompany a 300 sequel. And so “Alien Shores” opens with some mysterioso sitar-sounding instrument, the patter of exotic percussion and peeling Arabic-ish woodwinds before everything blows up into a nicely crushing metal tango (!) complete with actual cookie monsters and I wasn’t expecting that either.  Actually, singer/guitarist Patrick Loisel’s rogue’s gallery of vocal stylings is both a treat and a slight problem in terms of giving the band a defining identity.

On the other hand, boredom? Not a problem.  For music that gets so savagely loud, the excitement here, the reason you’ll be downloading tracks and listening to them repeatedly, closely, is the quiet detailing of songs, the bit of reverb that renders a guitar mysterious here, the sudden, teasing disappearance of a gorgeous Fleury vocal line there. “Progressive metal”? Whatever. Damned good works for me.

Seclusion marks my first encounter with the group and as the first couple of songs unfold I can certainly say I am sorry I did not take the plunge earlier. At the same time, 2006 seems like a ripe time for the band to make a play for wider recognition as while their dazed and confused slow-rock certainly recalls divergent strains of the 90’s (think Tool, My Bloody Valentine); the vibe they put forth lines up nicely with such modern progenitors Isis (Aaron Turner does the art here), Mogwai, Godspeed You, Torche and others of that slow, smooth and ponderously heavy ilk.

The main force behind Aereogramme’s songs is the alternately pulsing and droning bass of Campbell Mcneil who is adept at setting and grounding the foundation for these extended, expansive pieces, giving his bandmates freedom to wander around the structure. Martin Scott’s drumming benefits most from this arrangement, while it is difficult to say he is doing anything so wild given the laid-back nature of the music, his rumbling, fill-happy style tends to augment the atmosphere of the tunes rather than provide a backdrop for them, often syncing up with Iain Cook’s programming rather than his guitar-playing. Cook and Craig B’s guitars seem to fight from the bottom of the band’s sound, rather than riding easy on top as is usual in rock music. Plaintive clean, reverberated picking patterns, if they can even be called that, emerge in response to the emotional intensity of the moment rather than any need to be particularly concise and consistent. The melodies are spare dew-droplets of crystal rain, the riffs: surly, abruptly sliding affairs rarely venturing to overpower the other instrumentation even at their heaviest. Only on the final proper song, “Lightning Strikes the Postman” do the two six-stringers become first stringers, one heaving ‘Kashmir’-esque sludge while the other responds with noodling outbursts of radiant leads. Craig B.’s vocals if anything, are what most root the band in 90’s nostalgia, sharing a fragility with such kindred spirits as Billy Corgan, Maynard James Keenan, and Thom Yorke, smoothly gliding over the songs. Unlike the other instruments, his voice can be heard clearly above the rather thick atmosphere, giving this six-song album that power-pop rock feel in terms of the mix.

The final track is an alternate score which leads to the visual component of this release a short film (in essence the title-track as it is called “Seclusion”) conceived by vocalist Craig B. and executed by director Stephen Morris set to the song “Dreams and Bridges”. Evocative and disturbing, the film follows a young girl through an evening of partying which leaves her feeling paranoid and vulnerable as she is continually haunted and harassed by ghostly figures dressed in the guise of death. Fairly cliche in that it all ends up with said girl bleeding in a bathtub after finding out that the grim reaper’s cloak hid her doppelganger all along, but set to the sound of Aereogramme’s music it works well or at least is inoffensively bad, haha. The best part of the interactive side is the gallery which includes a set of pictures of the band ‘dolled-up’ with photoshop to look like crackwhores after a hard night’s work.

All in all a nice, albeit brief reintroduction to these Scot’s brand of slow-driving, atmospheric rock which does whet my appetite to dig a bit deeper into their catalog. Fans of moody, sullen music will appreciate the fragile dynamic of the group’s playing while the thick, spaced out vibe of the tunes should defintely appeal to those who need a little more heft in their art-rock. While nothing ear-catchingly astonishing, Seclusion provides a smooth sound, which while at times adventurous and rarely jarring, always seems to resolve itself on an even-keel, making it ideal for late night/early morning jams. Good stuff.