Ophelion – The Jaunt Review

By Angry Metal Guy

Written By: Nameless_n00b_604 In the canon of life-ruining short stories, somewhere amidst Ellison’s “I Have No Mouth and Must Scream” and Jackson’s “The Lottery,” you’ll find Stephen King’s “The Jaunt.” In summary: Family sets out to teleport to Mars on The Jaunt, Dad tells kids that taking The Jaunt while unanesthetized makes you go crazy, Boy takes the Jaunt unanesthetized, Boy experiences time “longer than you think!”, Boy goes crazy and attempts disposing of own eyes by way of own fingers. It’s a story so metal, it begs for musical adaptation. UK-based progressive metallers Ophelion have accepted the challenge in their five-track self-released debut. Undeniably bold, are they up to adapting such a stark, deceptively simple tale?

The Jaunt progs hard. Opeth’s shadow looms large, particularly heavy on “Voice of Thought” through haunting key melodies, breathy crooning, and crushing growls by Marcello Vieira (Braveride) and Gabriel Riccio, respectively. Guitarist/bassist/co-songwriter Shaun Eggleston and drummer Travis Orbin (Darkest Hour, ex-Periphery) groove over odd, shifting time signatures while co-songwriter Steven Eggleston’s synthesizers primarily lay down chord beds (“Transference”) and create atmosphere (“Emergence”). The mix is loud and busy, but the musicianship is on par with the luminaries of prog metal, dishing out water-tight grooves (“Artefact,” “Voice of Thought”), masterful soloing, and longform compositions that weave through bridge after copious bridge. As such, if you’re allergic to any of the developments in progressive metal from the past thirty years, The Jaunt is liable to give you a rash, as Ophelion strikes them all.1

But Ophelion has the vision to appeal to more than prog nerds. Chugs are ubiquitous across The Jaunt, but varied rhythms keep things groovy rather than monotonous alongside embellishment-rich riffage (“Transference” at 1:10, “Exodus” at 5:07). Fretboard warrior Shaun Eggleston weaves Petrucciesque solos on “Exodus” but also conjures thrash nastiness on “Artefact” (3:37), sounding like Megadeth trying southern rock. Vieira sports a reedy high register and the Euro-power proclivity to over-enunciate and under-pronounce, but his gravitas is undeniably infectious. Riccio’s growls ooze spit-and-vinegar, with instrumentation turning chromatic and dissonant with his appearances (“Voice of Thought,” “Artefact”). A lot happens on The Jaunt; sometimes too much, too rapidly. With so many brief movements throughout, Ophelion is the antimatter of atmoblack metal—doing too much for not long enough—and the music often doesn’t repeat enough to nestle into the listener’s brain.2 Regardless, Ophelion’s diverse virtuosity should please most metalheads.

What’s most impressive, however, is how everything coalesces into storytelling. Departing from King, Ophelion enters The Jaunt through an unnamed traveler (“Transference”), with Vieira portraying him enduring bodyless consciousness (“Voice of Thought”) before watching his thoughts manifest into civilizations “Praying to the skies to a god who wants to die”3 (“Artefact”), creating the Jaunt themselves. Riccio plays the voice of the titular Jaunt, callously enlightening him that “As you watch your body / Enter the machine / All happens once again / The universe exists recursively” (“Exodus”). Like King’s prose, the lyricism—if somewhat on-the-nose—is concisely vivid.

Songwriting sells the lyrics through film score-level symbiosis between music and narrative. The solos in “Artefact” become progressively unhinged, reflecting the traveler’s increasing anguish. The spacey “Emergence” conveys the emptiness between losing control (“Voice of Thought”) and becoming omniscient (“Artefact”). Finally, concluding “Exodus”—depicting the traveler’s release from the Jaunt and subsequent self-blinding—sees a quiet, eerie key change as Ophelion rebuilds momentum to crescendo into a final solo before leaving a lone acoustic guitar, recalling the acoustic “Transference” intro, evoking the cursed recursive universe.4 Ophelion didn’t just use King’s story as a backdrop; the narrative is essential in enjoying The Jaunt as art.

Ophelion’s The Jaunt brushes the hem of greatness. With a more settled approach to songwriting—letting hooks sink in—Ophelion could be lethal. Though sometimes too frenetic, The Jaunt nevertheless abounds with excellent ideas, musicianship, and narrative, an easy pick for any prog fan and/or enemy of the “less is more” philosophy.5 Give The Jaunt a try. Just don’t hold your breath.

Rating: Very Good
DR: 8 | Review Format: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Self-Released
Website: ophelionmusic.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: June 23rd, 2025

#2025 #35 #Braveride #BritishMetal #DarkestHour #Jun25 #Megadeth #Opeth #Ophelion #Periphery #ProgressiveMetal #Review #Reviews #SelfRelase #TheJaunt

Vildhjarta – Där skogen sjunger under evighetens granar Review

By Dear Hollow

You could make the case that Vildhjarta’s third full-length is too late to be relevant. There are few that djent as hard as the Swedes, and their own influence exists in pockets of tone-abusing youngsters and diehard veterans who just keep releasing shit: Tesseract, Periphery, and Animals As Leaders, for example. I’ve always thought that Vildhjarta is the more curious Humanity’s Last Breath, utilizing a similarly crushingly heavy bone-to-dust djent tone, dark atmosphere, and vocal attack,1 but with a shimmering ethereality more akin to Uneven Structure or older The Contortionist, heaven and hell alike. Regardless, you can bet your bottom dollar that Vildhjarta djents. Hard.

Vildhjarta has a fervent fanbase in spite of having relatively little music to speak of. Having coined the mysterious “thall!” battle cry and influencing a ton of “djentlemen,” Där skogen sjunger under evighetens granar is only their third full-length. The influential concept album Måsstaden was a landmark of djenty deathcore, but was immediately left almost entirely unanswered (apart from the Thousands of Evils EP in 2013) until 2021 with the release of Måsstaden under vatten (“seagull city underwater”). That album rekindled what made the act so formidable to begin with: downtuned choppy djent riffs, reverb-laden leads that sway between dissonant and hyper-melodic, and staccato overlapping rhythms. Där skogen sjunger under evighetens granar is undeniably Vildhjarta in this way, although it benefits from its more playful approach, streamlined songwriting, heightened atmosphere, and deepened weight, but it won’t change your mind about Vildhjarta in its one-note and overlong glory.

Vildhjarta has always been unique for its ability to take the novelty and highlights of djent and make an experience out of it. Där skogen sjunger under evighetens granar is the most pristine and positive of the band’s discography, reflecting its sanguine title,2 compared to the ominous ambiance pervading the dark fairytales of the Måsstaden suite. While its predecessors dove headfirst into the darkness, Där skogen... seems to embrace a more dreamy attitude reminiscent of post-rock bands like Sigur Rós or Hammock. Yes, the Swedes have amped the density and weight of their djent, but have also raised its hell-gazing heads to the cosmos. There are certainly moments of ominous dissonance (“Där mossan möter havet”), but most tracks feel downright cheery by comparison. Toss in some well-placed vocals that range from dreamy to powerful (“Sargasso,” “Där mossan möter havet,” “Kristallfågel,” “? regnet, the ?,” “Viktlös & evig”), and stargazing to djent never seemed so apt.

That being said, if drop-tuned djenty beatdowns interspersed with reverb-y leads, wild runs, and synth overlays are not your thing, that’s basically what Vildhjarta does for fifty-six minutes straight, which is downright brief compared to its predecessor’s eighty-one minutes. One riff to rule them all: variety and differentiation are not names of the game for Vildhjarta. Even tempo remains at a comfortable 90 bpm for the majority of the album; sudden blastbeats give the illusion of speed. Vilhelm Bladin’s harsh vocals remain predictable death growls with a climax of a shriek here and there aside from sparse, almost-spoken word (“Hösten som togs ifrån mig,” “Den spanska känslan”), although the cleans have much more range. Guitar work remains entirely predictable, aside from the pairing of melancholy plucking and its punchy polyrhythm call-back (“Viktlös & evig”) or some almost classical noodling (“Den spanska känslan”).

Yes, Vildhjarta is an experience of surreal proportions, particularly compared to the legions of their super-serious genremates. Där skogen sjunger under evighetens granar’s pristine atmosphere stands out among even its own shadowy discography, although it retains all the act’s trademarks. The act works better as a trio, as it forces them to cut the fluff into what works and what doesn’t. That being said, it does not justify why you should spend nearly an hour getting a djent concussion only to gaze up at the stars through newly encephalopathic eyes. Old habits die hard, and while mysterious and enigmatic, the Swedes’ formula is predictable, if not hella fun for the initiated. Ultimately, if you’re a fan, Vildhjarta is above-average djent; if you’re not a fan, Vildhjarta is average djent.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: vildhjarta.bandcamp.com | vildhjartastore.com | facebook.com/vildhjartaofficial
Releases Worldwide: May 30th, 2025

#25 #2025 #AnimalsAsLeaders #AtmosphericMetal #CenturyMediaRecords #DärSkogenSjungerUnderEvighetensGranar #Deathcore #Djent #Hammock #HumanitySLastBreath #May25 #Periphery #Review #Reviews #SigurRÃS #SwedishMetal #TesseracT #TheContortionist #UnevenStructure #Vildhjarta