Crown Lands "Apocalypse" ALBUM REVIEW [Canadian Prog Rock]

by Dean Wolfe, prog dog media                     released May 2026

My one-word review of this album: satisfying. 

It works. My first listen was hard-hitting, and by the end of it I was glowing.

Intellectually speaking, I’ve had a hard time figuring out Crown Lands. Are they copying Rush? In places, a little bit, yes. I don’t think they’re trying to hide it, either. Are they trying to replace Rush? That’s harder to answer — but there has undeniably been a void since Rush retired in 2015.

Will Crown Lands become the next generation's Rush? I’m tempted to say yes.

What makes that possibility interesting is that they don’t merely imitate Rush stylistically; they seem to be carrying forward the spirit of what Rush represented. Rush stood for making the music they wanted to make regardless of trends, critics, or expectations. Crown Lands feel cut from that same cloth.

With all the mainstream admiration Rush have received over the last decade — especially during the documentary and retrospective era — you’d think they had always been media darlings. They weren’t. I remember that period well: being a Rush fan was not considered cool. In many circles, Rush were practically the definition of uncool. Critics often dismissed them as overly technical, self-serious, or hopelessly nerdy, even while their audience remained intensely loyal.

That’s part of why Crown Lands are so fascinating to me. Their influences are obvious: the progressive structures, the scale and ambition. But it doesn’t feel cynical or calculated. It feels sincere. Less like imitation, and more like continuation.

And maybe that’s the real legacy of Rush in the first place — not just complicated arrangements or virtuoso musicianship, but the stubborn commitment to making exactly the kind of music they loved, whether anyone thought it was fashionable or not.

Yet their musical DNA still seems deeply meshed with Rush. According to Kevin Comeau himself, Rush are the reason he pursued music in the first place — and you can hear that influence in the sheer ambition of what he attempts as one half of this duo: guitar, bass pedals, keyboards, foot-controlled parts, and whatever else he can physically manage at one time.

As far as I know, none of the members of Rush secretly fathered these young Canadian guys. Then again, we all know there were never any women at Rush concerts anyway. (I’m kidding, of course. There were at least three per show.)

Still, reducing Crown Lands to “Rush 2.0” doesn’t really hold up once you spend time with the music. Even if the ghost of Rush occasionally hangs over certain moments, there are plenty of other influences woven into the sound — from Pink Floyd to Led Zeppelin, along with flashes of 1980s rock and pop textures.

Their new album, Apocalypse, despite its dramatic title, is actually an energetic and surprisingly fun listen. There is a tremendous amount of power coming from these musicians. Not that they do it entirely alone — tracks like “The Revenant” benefit from added instrumentation such as cello, and live performances have sometimes included additional musicians to help recreate the more demanding arrangements.

I can't not mention vocalist Cody Bowles. Singing drummers are actually not that rare: Phil Collins, being a great example, or Karen Carpenter, Dave Grohl, Peter Criss (Kiss) to mention but a few. Cody's voice channels Robert Plant and even Geddy Lee, but once you've heard him sing a few times you spot him a mile away. 

I appreciate the narrative and lyrical concepts as well. On Apocalypse, Crown Lands are basically doing that prog thing where it’s not a strict story you follow word-for-word, but more like a shared theme running through it all. It feels like a sci-fi-flavoured idea of a world going through collapse and change, with power structures breaking down and something new trying to form in their place. You don’t really need to “decode” lyrics to get it — it’s more about the mood, the scale, and how the songs link together like chapters in the same bigger idea. 

Apocalypse is an ambitious and cohesive album that succeeds on many levels and well-deserves 1 1/2 out of 5 prog dog bones. Time will have to prove it, but this album will probably be remembered as part of the long-term story of progressive rock.

Fave short track: The Fall. 

Poly-Math "Something Deeply Hidden" ALBUM REVIEW

 

by Dean Wolfe, Prog Dog Media.             Album Released 2026

Math was my weakest subject in high school, which may explain why I tended to shy away from so-called math-rock bands. Despite what their name suggests, however, Poly-Math never set out to fit neatly into that genre. As bassist Jon Branton told me, the band’s real passion lies in progressive rock, particularly albums from the 70s like Red by King Crimson, which he holds in especially high regard.

There is no keeping Poly-Math bottled up. For all their precision as a tightly locked, pattern-driven instrumental band, there is a persistent sense of unpredictability in their music—an almost chaotic energy simmering just beneath the surface. It subsides briefly on No Such Thing As Now, but halfway through the band surges back to life, sounding as if they have resumed overturning random pieces of furniture. 

Poly-Math do not think small; their music is at times almost blatant in its intent-- expansive and ambitious. For fans of Yes, there are parallels in spirit to the intensity of “The Gates of Delirium” or the opening movement of “Close to the Edge,” particularly in their blend of complexity and surging aggression. The Mars Volta similarly channel those passages and are a cited as an inspiration among the band. 

For me personally, Something Deeply Hidden feels like a different kind of animal. It didn’t immediately fall into place, but on my second listen it all clicked. Rather than leaning heavily on melody, the key to the band’s sound is the way it builds around a strong rhythmic foundation, with the bass and drums driving the momentum forward and giving the music its force and direction. Credit that to bassist and drummer Jon Branton and Chris Woollison. 

The other half of Poly-Math act like the shifting colour palette: Tim Walters on guitar and Josh Gesner on keyboards and synthesizers. Rather than dominating with flash or excess, they shape the music’s atmosphere, filling it out with bold, carefully contoured gestures. The band feels like one living, breathing organism or entity- an exotic creature. Percussion such as congas and bongos is almost invisibly present throughout the album, subtly stitching everything together.

The musicianship throughout Poly-Math is consistently strong. The bass work on Spectral DiOrder stands out in particular—thick, aggressive timbres that really punch through the mix. It brings to mind the gullet-smashing bass tones of Geddy Lee, with that same overdriven, physical presence that feels less like support and more like propulsion. 

A few more sonic observational snapshots: Euthyphro Dilemma opens out into eerie, cinematic passages as it breaks down and gradually deconstructs itself. In Chronstesia reminds me of my all time fave and iconic jazz fusion album, Bruford, One of A Kind. There's more of the cool jazz vibes on OneTwoThreeFour Body Problem. 

I’d give this excellent album a solid 4 out of 5 dog bones. It may well be strong enough to deserve higher, but I’m not an expert in more “mathy” prog rock, and I found it a bit more jagged than I’d usually gravitate toward in music. But as any geologist will tell you, there is beauty in jaggedness. I hope Poly-Math continue to flourish and crystallize. 

Ora Cogan "Hard Hearted Woman" ALBUM REVIEW [Etherial-Folk, Country-Tinged, Dream Pop]

 

by Dean Wolfe, Prog dog Media                Album released 2026

Ora Cogan feels like a creative spirit only partially committed to fully materializing in this world. I can’t think of many other artists who sound so consistently ethereal that you briefly wonder whether she might be an apparition rather than a performer.

And yet she is here—fully present, but almost like a mirror—catching light and colour from a place just beyond reach, somewhere slightly outside our usual frame of reference. I find that some of the photographs of Cogan capture this beautifully, playing with reflections and the ghostly quality of the Daguerreotype.

I’m especially drawn to the country music influence in some of her songs, a genre whose finest moments are built on honesty, plainspoken emotion, and unvarnished truth. I could even compare her, in a small way, to Neil Young—an artist driven by an everything-be-damned commitment to authenticity. 

Practically speaking, her music is sometimes softly and simply performed, yet enveloped in something intangible and hard to define. How she achieves that effect is not entirely clear to me. At the heart of it is her voice—lovely and airy, vulnerable, and genuine. The very idea of applying pitch correction in this context feels almost absurd; any heavy-handed processing would seem to work against what makes it compelling in the first place.

She does, however, use effects in a more performative way in live settings. I saw a performance on YouTube where she used two microphones: one for a direct vocal signal, and another she could lean into for a more dreamlike layer of echo and reverb.

At the heart of it, Cogan is a singer-songwriter, but on this album she draws on a wide palette of instrumental textures, with contributions from a range of musicians—including pedal steel. She also continues to feature her own electric guitar work, played in a light, fingerstyle approach.

Listening to her new album I wonder: 'why go to an art gallery, or set out on a slow Sunday road trip, when you can be quietly transported and held by her world—by Hard Hearted Woman and the company it keeps?

I may seem hard-hearted, but I’m not going to assign this album a score. I think you already know why. Would you rate a beautiful flower you discovered growing just outside your back door?

https://oracogan.bandcamp.com/album/hard-hearted-woman

(see my reviews of other Cogan albums) 

Dennis Atlas "Principle" ALBUM REVIEW [80s Prog-inspired Hard Rock/ Arena Rock]

by Dean Wolfe, Prog Dog Media            (released May 2026).

This album would earn a perfect score from me if every track matched the closing song, “We Can Be the Future.” It overflows with optimism and a kind of hyperactive, almost nuclear-squirrel energy that captures what Dennis Atlas seems to be all about.

That track makes me want to grow my frickin’ hair long, crank the CD in the car stereo, and blast it while cruising down the nearest main drag with the roof down—ideally with a couple of my bros perched in the back.

This is what I’d call kick-ass, ’80s prog-inspired, big-hair rock. I’d place it in the same general spirit as Journey and Styx: energetic, melodic American rock with a progressive edge.

And it’s simply fun. This is the kind of music I’d put on at a party where plenty of beer—or root beer—was being served.

Given Dennis Atlas’s relative youth (still in his 20s), he stands out as someone who can convincingly channel the prog and rock traditions of a bygone era—one marked by unapologetic optimism and fist-pumping energy. He can wail vocally just as effortlessly as he can fly across the keyboard, making him a truly impressive and versatile musician.

Of course, Dennis Atlas didn’t create this album entirely on his own. He had some remarkable support on Principle. As the newest keyboardist and member of Toto, he has earned the respect of some legendary musicians, several of whom contributed to the album, including Steve Lukather and Bumblefoot (known for his work with Asia and Guns N' Roses).

“Violent Power” was the first track I heard before reviewing the album, and it immediately convinced me that this was an artist worth paying attention to. It’s an adrenaline-charged opener that gets me completely fired up—before long, my fists are pumping in the air.

I wish there were a bit more jazz-inspired passages like the ones in “Save It for Tomorrow.” If Dennis Atlas leaned further into that side of his musical personality, I’d be very happy. The song is packed with shifting time signatures and unexpected twists and turns, along with a tasteful saxophone solo that adds another layer of sophistication. And throughout it all, you can hear some wonderful inspiration from the adventurous spirit of 1970s progressive rock.

Then there’s Dennis Atlas’s cheeky sense of musical playfulness, which comes through strongly on the instrumental “Candy on Mars.” The track is driven by some seriously funky bass lines and the kind of whimsical keyboard flourishes that could become one of his trademarks. It’s impossible for me to hear those lighthearted touches without smiling.

I love the positivity Atlas displays. I believe this is the quality that is going to serve him well into the future. Those moments on the album that he just lets go and rips are great. Always nice to have an uplifting party album to reach for in the collection. 

If you’re a party-pooper, this album may not be for you. Dennis Atlas is filling a much-needed niche, delivering unapologetically fun, high-energy progressive rock with genuine heart.

I’m giving "Principle" 4 out of 5 Dog Bones.

What a strong year 2026 is proving to be for progressive rock.

My initial favourite tracks are “We Can Be the Future,” “Candy on Mars,” and “Violent Power.”

The only track that feels a little musically awkward to me at times is “When the Monster Attacks,” though the bass and drum work are excellent, and the lyrics are particularly interesting.

A Liquid Landscape "Rogue Planet" ALBUM REVIEW

 

by Dean Wolfe, Prog dog Media                       Album release 2026. 

This album has been keeping me company lately. It is a melodic, deeply atmospheric record that, as its final track fades, seems to demand that you start it over from the beginning.

This album feels like a blend of post-grunge and the graceful, Pink Floyd-inspired side of progressive rock. It is unmistakably guitar-centric, which I love, and the distortion tones in particular are consistently tasteful, with a rich, velvety character. All the instrumentation - particularly the energetic drum work as well—are excellently recorded and sound great. 

The vocals are not an afterthought, but A Liquid Landscape feel to me like an instrumental, post-rock-leaning band with a singer baked into the overall sound. Rather than the music serving as a backdrop for the vocals, the voice remains down in the orchestra pit with the rest of the musicians—an integral part of the arrangement rather than the dominant focal point. The singer’s voice is highly produced and stylized—breathy and youthful in tone, with an overall soft and warm character.

The lyrics—and this is only my interpretation—seem open-eyed and questioning, grappling with much of what is happening in the world. There is a measure of cynicism, but it is balanced by a clear sense of hope: “There’s a spark inside,”  and “Tiny footsteps lead the way, I’m sure.” 

“I dreamt a dream bigger than me” feels like a line anyone in a band like this might relate to. Isn’t that part of why albums get made in the first place? “We need a brave, resilient future we are proud to call our own.”

I noticed something interesting in the album’s song arrangement. “Few and Far Between” and “Raven Song” are each split into two parts—so in a sense, it feels like four tracks that are interwoven, evolving as part of a larger structure rather than standing as strictly separate pieces.

I find myself curious about how this came to be: what actually ties the parts together? Are they variations on the same musical idea, lyrically linked, or connected in a more abstract, conceptual way?

What I appreciate is that repeated listens don’t immediately settle the question. There’s a deliberate ambiguity that holds up over time instead of resolving too quickly. I did eventually notice, for example, that “Raven Song” revisits a musical motif in a transformed way, which makes the connection feel intentional without being over-explained.

This is a powerful 4½ out of 5. While occasionally haunting, the album is cavernously deep and often serenely gorgeous.

...that's the same as 9 out of 10 for the math challenged, :-) 

-----------

P.S. For anyone wondering, when it comes to reviewing and scoring albums, I tend to gravitate toward records I either enjoy a lot or find engaging in a constructive way from the outset. It doesn’t feel particularly worthwhile to spend time dissecting albums that I already sense will land poorly for me. I tend to reserve that kind of deeper critical scrutiny for releases from major artists where higher expectations are part of the context, and where disappointment feels more revealing than simply writing something off.

Emily Rach Beisel "Sumptuous Branching" ALBUM REVIEW [Cinematic, Drone, Avant, Experimental, Ambient]

by Dean Wolfe (Prog dog Media)       Album released April 10, 2026.

I didn't know what to expect, but I ended up really loving this album. Like...damn. 

Sumptuous Branching is an invigorating, challenging listen—decidedly not background music and not for the faint of heart. It demands attention, rewarding even as it unsettles, like a disturbance that stirs a riverbed and leaves the water cleaner.

Soloist Emily Rach Beisel is a Chicago-based improviser, composer, educator, curator, and woodwind specialist. They performs all music on this album, with bass clarinet, vocals, piccolo, and electronics. Listening to their work can feel like an alien abduction: everything familiar falls away, replaced by a world you didn’t know existed. They have said they were inspired by late medieval chant, drawn to its wild freedom and rich density. Whatever the artist’s statement might suggest, my first instinct is to set that aside and respond directly to what I’m hearing.

As a fan of first-contact movies like Arrival, I can’t help but think much of the album would be perfectly suited as a film score covering that same strange territory. “To Rise in Arms,” a standout track, captures this tension perfectly—at once jarringly beautiful, but also eerie and otherworldly.

'Her Still Singing Limbs' evokes strong imagery in my mind, reminding me of the classic early 70's TV show Kung Fu about a peaceful Shaolin monk who travels the desert expanse of the American Old West, using martial arts and wisdom to avoid violence while helping others and searching for his lost half-brother. 

Fragments of the familiar do surface on this album, especially on the title track, thoughtfully chosen to close the album with, offering a kind of quiet reassurance. A simple, lonesome clarinet begins with a single breath, before three or four voices gradually join in, answering it in kind—loneliness still present, but shared, and in that sharing, softened. It restores a distinctly warm human touch within a broader soundscape of electronically scrambled and manipulated textures.

[The album was recorded at Marmalade in Chicago by Bill Harris, mixed by Harris and Beisel, mastered by Edward Hamel. This is their second album released through Chicago’s avant/exploratory label Amalgam. She is wrapping up a mid-west tour right now.] 

https://www.emilybeisel.com

https://emilyrachbeisel.bandcamp.com

https://www.instagram.com/beisel_m_

https://www.amalgamusic.org

https://www.instagram.com/amalgam_chicago

https://www.facebook.com/amalgamusic


FOR FANS OF:
Sunn O))), Om, Zu, Faust, Amon Düül, Colin Stetson, Nala Sinephro, John Zorn, Oren Ambarchi

GENRES:
Drone, Avant Jazz, Experimental, Ambient

Angine De Poitrine "Vol.II" ALBUM REVIEW [microtonal looper math rock/prog(?)]

by Dean Wolfe, prog dog media.   Album released 2026. 

If you’ve been living under a rock lately, prepare yourself. Vol. II by ADP is a brain-stunner of an album that hits you like that soccer ball you never saw coming.

Angine De Poitrine, it seems, are the “chosen ones” to bring lively, fun, quirky, challenging, and audacious instrumental rock to a nutrition-deprived audience. It’s all delivered with snappy drums, a double-neck instrument combining bass and six-string guitar (with twice the usual number of frets), and a complex looper rig demanding speedy, barefooted coordination and precision.

The mania is spreading ever wider since the duo’s live KEXP performance on YouTube (13 million views as of this writing). This burst of popularity suggests a genuine thirst among listeners for something different—if not outright unhinged—compared to the usual mainstream churn of predictable or overly processed schlock,  not to mention an endless stream of replayed classic hits of yesteryear, and yester-century.

Has the dam broken? Is Angine De Poitrine the long-overdue wrench in the machine that prophets have foreseen and forewarned us about? Is a massive world-wide musical reboot about to be triggered? 

I knew this would be a hard album to review, because Vol. II by Angine De Poitrine isn’t just a unique record. This papier-mâché-clad Québécois duo is fast becoming a heavily scrutinized, impossible-to-ignore cultural phenomenon.

Many longtime prog fans count themselves among Angine De Poitrine’s new devotees, hyping the pyramid hand signals in YouTube comments—and probably in real life too. Some even claim the duo as “one of their own.” But is it really progressive rock?

Rather than belabour genre labels, it’s probably easier to accept a few things. Plenty of prog fans love this band, and math rock, while it came later, digs into the same kind of rhythmic complexity. And yet it’s still its own thing—related to prog, but not quite the same. Clear as mud.

What does the duo say about their own music? I discovered a very recent interview on Youtube entirely in French. In their own words (translated and with a bit of paraphrasing): 

"[Angine De Poitrine] is first of all a duo... rock with a bit of an electro flavour, meaning the music is constructed and built on loops. There's a certain repetitiveness but always with an intentional build-up to bring in the next phase or a more developed riff etc.

"The tunes keeps moving forward, and don't stagnate.... but they have a kind of repetitiveness that reminds you of techno... In terms of timbre it's anchored in a very instrumental rock tradition- a bit left field overall. Super danceable."

They say that got into microtonality simply through curiosity and were...

"interested in ever increasing complexity ...the notion of a challenge is always attractive. ...it started with a fascination with eastern music...but we didn't want to copy it - we used it in a way that was more our own...our own flavour...made sure it wasn't just a pastiche of what's done in the East. We make it very 'Seguanay-an'...(they are from Seguanay Quebec)"

So, they are making use of microtonality in a way they were comfortable with and in a way they enjoy--attracted by the closeness of the notes, the friction, the timbre, and the novelty as well. 

Listening to Vol. II, I feel reassured they’re here to stay. This doesn’t strike me as a flash in the pan. They did refer to ADP as a “project” in an interview, which suggests they’ll stick with it only as long as it continues to challenge and intrigue them—but on this album, their artistic integrity feels intact. The music is genuinely strong, and it sticks—more like cast iron than Teflon. And how can you not love “UTZP,” with its munchkin-scaled, Led Zeppelin-ish flair?

The album feels a tad on the short side, but there’s that old saying: “leave ’em wanting more.” There’s good variety across the tracks, even veering a bit country on the opener to side two, keeping things consistently interesting as one piece flows into the next.

There’s a deliberate otherworldliness to the album, mainly in the occasional vibey vocals—like Sesame Street aliens singing from another planet—and in lead guitar lines soaked in wild, unpredictable effects.

The bass tones really rock out, reminding me of Chris Squire on The Yes Album, with aggressive pick use and plenty of lines up high on the fretboard. This album is fun and fresh. ADP pull the tablecloth out from under the listener’s dinner plates before they even realize what’s happened. There are generous splatterings of funk, punk, disco, rock, and jazz fusion, plus an armada of catchy riffs—cleverly making use of, quite literally, the notes between the notes.

The drumming is also highly satisfying. Klek is, quite literally and figuratively, half of the band’s sound—and together with Khn, they are far more than the sum of their parts. Hearing them play together, it’s not surprising to learn they’ve been jamming since they were young teenagers.

I give this ingenious and highly listenable album 5 out of 5 prog dog bones. Do yourself a favour—pull up a chair and let these Quebecois masters of microtonal riffs pepper your brain with polka dots. You won't know what hit you. Guaranteed fun for the whole family.