When Opeth released Heritage in 2011 -- the wonderfully indulgent, somewhat unfocused exercise in prog rock aesthetics -- some longstanding fans were offended because the band had abandoned death metal. Truthfully, they had been exploring prog in fits and starts since 2005's Ghost Reveries. Pale Communion completes the transition, proving that Heritage was not only a next step, but a new beginning altogether. Vocalist, songwriter, and guitarist Mikael Åkerfeldt has obviously been listening to loads of prog in the interim -- ELP's debut, Deep Purple's In Rock, early King Crimson and Eloy, National Health, U.K., Bill Bruford's early solo work, Pär Lindh, and even jazz fusion. Produced by the singer and mixed by Steven Wilson, Pale Communion states its ambitions outright. Opener "Eternal Rains Will Come" explodes with knotty, labyrinthine organ (from new keyboardist Joakim Svalberg) and Martin Axenrot's skittering, propulsive drums. Åkerfeldt's and Fredrik Åkesson's serpentine yet raucous guitars and Martín Méndez's fat, humming bassline kick in immediately thereafter. They all stop on a dime to be replaced by flute and acoustic piano. After another few moments, they return to establish the song's vamp and melody. Åkerfeldt's multi-tracked vocals don't enter until three minutes in, then give way to a dazzling finish provided by a guitar solo and massive swathes of organ and Mellotron. Lead single "Cusp of Eternity" employs repetitive metal guitar and bass riffs, while the modal melody suggests Middle Eastern origins. "Moon Above, Sun Below" is the set's hinge piece and longest track. It contains no less than five sections in nearly 11 minutes. These are introduced variously by samples of Tibetan thigh-bone trumpet and vibraphones, as well as acoustic guitars, Rhodes piano, thundering organ, anthemic electric guitars atop cracking rim shots, kick drum, and a forceful bassline that creates dynamic textural passages illustrating the rage, loss, and acceptance in Åkerfeldt's lyrics. "Goblin" is an instrumental, a tightrope walk between hard rock and jazz fusion, and it's among the finest things here. This is countered by "River," with rich, multi-layered vocal harmonies, 12-string, piano, glistening cymbal, and snare, highlighted by a melodic electric guitar solo à la Argus-era Wishbone Ash. The metallic syncopation in "Voice of Treason" is dramatic with Eastern interludes via the primary instruments, painted by Mellotron as Åkerfeldt soars. The first half of closer "Faith in Others" is instrumentally sparse; it begins reaching for the skies about halfway through, but gets dialed back to allow the gorgeous melody prominence. Pale Communion is more focused and refined than Heritage. Though they readily display numerous musical influences here, ultimately Opeth sound like no one but themselves. This set is a massive leap forward, not only in terms of style but also in its instrumental and performance acumen; it is nearly unlimited in its creativity.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

When Opeth released Heritage in 2011 -- the wonderfully indulgent, somewhat unfocused exercise in prog rock aesthetics -- some longstanding fans were offended because the band had abandoned death metal. Truthfully, they had been exploring prog in fits and starts since 2005's Ghost Reveries. Pale Communion completes the transition, proving that Heritage was not only a next step, but a new beginning altogether. Vocalist, songwriter, and guitarist Mikael Åkerfeldt has obviously been listening to loads of prog in the interim -- ELP's debut, Deep Purple's In Rock, early King Crimson and Eloy, National Health, U.K., Bill Bruford's early solo work, Pär Lindh, and even jazz fusion. Produced by the singer and mixed by Steven Wilson, Pale Communion states its ambitions outright. Opener "Eternal Rains Will Come" explodes with knotty, labyrinthine organ (from new keyboardist Joakim Svalberg) and Martin Axenrot's skittering, propulsive drums. Åkerfeldt's and Fredrik Åkesson's serpentine yet raucous guitars and Martín Méndez's fat, humming bassline kick in immediately thereafter. They all stop on a dime to be replaced by flute and acoustic piano. After another few moments, they return to establish the song's vamp and melody. Åkerfeldt's multi-tracked vocals don't enter until three minutes in, then give way to a dazzling finish provided by a guitar solo and massive swathes of organ and Mellotron. Lead single "Cusp of Eternity" employs repetitive metal guitar and bass riffs, while the modal melody suggests Middle Eastern origins. "Moon Above, Sun Below" is the set's hinge piece and longest track. It contains no less than five sections in nearly 11 minutes. These are introduced variously by samples of Tibetan thigh-bone trumpet and vibraphones, as well as acoustic guitars, Rhodes piano, thundering organ, anthemic electric guitars atop cracking rim shots, kick drum, and a forceful bassline that creates dynamic textural passages illustrating the rage, loss, and acceptance in Åkerfeldt's lyrics. "Goblin" is an instrumental, a tightrope walk between hard rock and jazz fusion, and it's among the finest things here. This is countered by "River," with rich, multi-layered vocal harmonies, 12-string, piano, glistening cymbal, and snare, highlighted by a melodic electric guitar solo à la Argus-era Wishbone Ash. The metallic syncopation in "Voice of Treason" is dramatic with Eastern interludes via the primary instruments, painted by Mellotron as Åkerfeldt soars. The first half of closer "Faith in Others" is instrumentally sparse; it begins reaching for the skies about halfway through, but gets dialed back to allow the gorgeous melody prominence. Pale Communion is more focused and refined than Heritage. Though they readily display numerous musical influences here, ultimately Opeth sound like no one but themselves. This set is a massive leap forward, not only in terms of style but also in its instrumental and performance acumen; it is nearly unlimited in its creativity.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

Agalloch's second album, The Mantle, is a leaps-and-bounds improvement over their first full-length, 1999's Pale Folklore. That wasn't a bad album, but it was hampered by a low-budget production job that didn't suit the sophisticated tone of the music. The improved production is the first thing that stands out here, evident in the more detailed arrangements, the classier guitar tones, and the fuller overall sound. That said, the music itself has also evolved and matured. Along with the Katatonia-inspired guitar work and grim, scratchy black metal vocals also present on Pale Folklore, a number of other sounds work their way into The Mantle, among them prominent acoustic guitar-strumming and cleanly sung vocals, Scandinavian-tinged folk guitar-picking (the middle breakdown during "I Am the Wooden Doors" is straight out of Ulver's bag), timpani percussion, and a few subtle electronic interludes. It is not just the range of sounds that's impressive, though, but rather how smoothly they are woven together, creating an album that flows from beginning to end, using its entire 68-minute running time to make its point without wearing out its welcome. Agalloch's biggest strength, much like the early work of Ulver and Katatonia, is their ability to create an epic type of listening experience without resorting to bombast or heavy-handedness, and that quality is plainly evident here. Factor in the excellent artwork and packaging (which features photos of the bandmembers looking very poised and European), and you have one of 2002's most accomplished and surprising metal-related albums.© William York /TiVo

Arriving nearly 30 years after their last studio release (1976's Whistling Down the Wire), this double disc is a long-awaited return from Crosby & Nash, whose time has been spent in various permutations of CSN both with and without Neil Young. For better and worse, little has changed in the duo's approach. Their spare piano and acoustic guitar-driven melodic folk-rock propelled by those terrific harmonies remains consistent. On the downside, their songwriting problems -- which made their previous outings both as a pair and even with Stephen Stills such hit-and-miss affairs -- haven't improved. The mellow, adult contemporary sound doesn't help matters either, as it coats even the best songs with an amiable yet edge-free sheen that gets monotonous over the 20-song, 75-minute playing time. It's difficult to fault the positive messages, but the simple, occasionally simplistic lyrics range from charming to cloying. The opening "Lay Me Down" successfully reintroduces those patented sumptuous harmonies -- still intact after all these years -- over softly strummed guitars and just the hint of percussion. What both Crosby and Nash have lost, though, is their sense of a hook. Most of these tunes meander around searching for memorable choruses to strengthen clunky, sometimes obvious and forced lyrics. "They Want It All"'s vague recriminations about the greedy lack all sense of the mystery and imagination that typify their best work. The most potent tune is "Puppeteer," one of the few where the throbbing melody is strong enough to support the words. Like most double albums, this would have made a stronger single disc, especially since the combined time barely breaks 75 minutes. Nothing is unlistenable, and Crosby and Nash, along with some talented veteran (but ultimately faceless) backing musicians like bassist Lee Sklar and drummer Russ Kunkel, apply plenty of effort and craft into polishing every track. Both singers haven't lost a step vocally either, as their unaccompanied a cappella turn on the haunting "Samurai" plainly shows. Yet for all of Crosby and Nash's obvious work and dedication to this project, these songs seldom rise above the pedestrian. Undeniably pleasant but little more, this falls into the "good try" category. These two agreeable journeyman songwriters can't write enough quality material for a single disc, let alone a double, even after an extended hiatus.© Hal Horowitz /TiVo