"Backrooms" Motion Picture Soundtrack ALBUM REVIEW [ambient, mixed]

by Dean Wolfe, Prog Dog Media              Released 2026

Given that Backrooms represents a relatively new form of psychological horror film, I find myself asking: what is so compelling about it? Why would I want to linger in that unsettling world by listening to its soundtrack—allowing the music to follow me out of the theatre and into my everyday living?

One answer lies in my long-standing appreciation for ambient music—even ambient music that is unconventional or unsettling. In my own assessment, only about fifteen to twenty per cent of Backrooms consists of outright horror or implied menace. The remainder is something quite different: a fascination with discovery, with wandering through a world that is strange, unfamiliar, and unexplored. It invites curiosity as much as fear, offering the feeling of encountering something genuinely new and mind-expanding.

There are no human voices on the album. Instead, much of it leans into artificial, mechanical textures—sounds that feel abandoned, automated, and detached from any human presence. These patterns seem to echo through an apparently endless liminal space, reinforcing a sense of emptiness and industrial afterlife rather than lived experience.

Some of the tracks are undeniably ominous and tension-filled. Homothet, Layout Extrapolation and You Know Me evoke genuine terror, while Wired is unmistakably creepy. Yet these moments are often fleeting. The soundtrack spends far more time evoking mystery than fear. Much of the soundtrack is surprisingly engaging—at times even lovely and playful, albeit in an off-kilter, uncanny and dizzying way, capturing the strange allure of liminal spaces that seem to invite endless exploration. It is this sense of discovery, rather than horror itself, that keeps drawing me back.

Humble MRI Company is one of the few tracks that features a clearly discernible melody and hints a human presence. More often, melody is only implied, subtle, or absent, with the music instead relying on texture, tone, and atmosphere to carry its effect.

There is no percussion or steady beat in the traditional sense, but in a few tracks a sense of rhythm is still implied. In Open the Window, for example, a simulated heartbeat provides a subtle pulse that drives the piece forward, giving it a faint but persistent momentum.

There are two notable reprieves within the soundtrack’s otherwise tense atmosphere. One is a fiddle-driven jig associated with a furniture store commercial, which briefly shifts the tone into something almost traditional and lighthearted. The other is an organ-led, muzak-ish Latin-style piece that similarly breaks from the prevailing mood. Both moments stand out precisely because they interrupt the surrounding unease, offering brief, almost disorienting flashes of familiarity and levity.

In summary, Backrooms is an effective soundtrack that closely reflects the film’s overall experience. Not something you'll want to put on around the kiddies or unsuspecting toddlers. It captures its shifting balance of curiosity, unease, and disorientation, and translates that atmosphere into pure audio. It's also not an album suited for solitary listening in the dark. It's suggestive, lingering quality can become haunting outside the context of the film. That said, this is also part of its strength—it preserves the emotional atmosphere of the film it accompanies, taking it beyond the screen.

This is an hour and a half of music- so plenty to immerse yourself in. I only wish they had leaned a little bit more into melody for a few more of the tracks so theater-goers would have something hooky to hang onto for the trip home.  My standout tracks: The Untrained Mind, Landsick, Humble MRI company and Old Home Not Yet Built has some sax and/or oboe parts adding more humanity to the soundtrack.

Gentle Giant "In A Glass House" CLASSIC 70's ALBUM REVIEW [Eclectic Prog]

 by Dean Wolfe, prog dog media             (Album Released 1973, new remixed/mastered vers. 2026)

This is a brilliant, well-recorded album. It feels musically adventurous and distinctly underground and obscure, with its cult status clearly justified. It’s full of interesting instrumentation, far more varied than a typical rock group, especially given that many of the band members are multi-instrumentalists playing a wide range of less common instruments.

It feels largely written by intuition rather than formal training or any real leaning toward convention. The band seem more than willing to push into unexpected territory and defy what might typically be expected of a group with a recording contract. In fact, they even touch on the tempting comfort of conformity in the lyrics of “Way of Life.”

'Runaway' begins with a broken glass loop —kind of like Pink Floyd’s cash register motif in “Money”, something that could easily be reused in a modern context.

There are strong analog synth textures throughout, and the band sounds very tight. The drums have that classic dry 1970s production feel.

One of the most striking elements is the contrast between the minstrel-like lead vocal passages and the heavier, slightly grimy guitar riffs. The bass is especially satisfying to listen to—hard to pinpoint exactly why, but it has a smooth tone and consistently intelligent note choices, often locking in or harmonising subtly with the guitar lines.

There are loads of small, intricate riffs scattered throughout, to the point where the music feels almost fragmented at times, yet still cohesive. The organ parts are also excellent. It’s hard not to admire the musical memory required from the band to execute something this detailed and fluid. At times, it almost feels like the music is purposefully “chopped up,” raising the question of how it all holds together so well—there's an interesting creative energy driving it forward.

There are also flashes of marimba, woodwinds, and other colouristic touches that keep things playful and unpredictable.

Frequent time signature changes add to the sense of instability and symphonic looseness, but the piece repeatedly returns to softer vocal sections that feel grounding—like everything briefly collapses back onto a kind of trampoline the band is bouncing on (in perfect symmetry) before launching off again.

'An Inmate’s Lullaby' evokes a kind of timeless nostalgia—for me, like an afternoon spent sitting at the TV on the shag rug watching innocent, child-focused shows in the 1970s. That sense is reinforced by the use of vibraphone, marimba, and staccato percussion, which give it a bright, music-box quality.

Against that backdrop unfolds the lyrical perspective of a psychiatric inmate, described from within his own distorted sense of normality. The contrast between subject and sound makes the track more striking: the music feels like a soundtrack to a child’s carefree summer afternoon, but the narrative steadily reveals something more constraining and unsettled.

Musically, there’s a gradual exchange between several motifs that pass between instruments, building gently into a softly alarming crescendo before easing back down toward resolution.

'Way of Life' is a standout track—lively, fun, and consistently quirky. It has an orderly quality that can sound deceptively chaotic at first, but it’s clearly not; everything feels carefully structured and tightly controlled, highlighting the band’s remarkable cohesion and precision as a unit.

There are some excellent slamming chords on the bass in parts, and a beautifully handled repeated section where acoustic piano and organ intertwine. At moments it brings to mind Fish Out of Water by Chris Squire, which would arrive a few years later.

The musical transitions all feel so distinctive, almost like the band is communicating in a language of its own—leaving the listener to interpret meaning more through feeling than analysis, as if deciphering something slightly alien but emotionally direct.

The track winds down in a slow-breathing conclusion, with rich, church-like organ textures that are both beautiful and slightly subversive. Rather than evoking a traditional sacred setting, it feels playful and unexpected—almost as if a conventional church organist had decided to abandon expectations entirely.

As the album unfolds, it becomes increasingly complex. “Experience” shows how comfortable the band is with breaking conventions. To the “normal” listener it may sound bizarre, but the music consistently maintains its own internal order and sense of balance.

The piano bursts into the track as a strong, lively melodic anchor, joined by moments of loud, soulful rock guitar and a more forceful vocal delivery. Once again, there’s a constant exchange of ideas between instruments, including a quieter, almost medieval-sounding keyboard texture, reinforcing the sense that the band has something to express in both subtle and direct ways.

Lyrically, the song reflects on moving through life and how people are continually influencing, and being influenced by, others. It suggests that it is often only later in life that we recognise the ripple effects of our actions, and how those consequences can eventually come back to us.

At times, the track has a strong groove, and the sense of playfulness and discovery runs throughout the album, unfolding continuously as it progresses.

'Reunion' is probably the shortest track, featuring an intimate, warm vocal performance that carries tender lyrics, supported by delicate acoustic guitar work and subtle transitions between minor and major chords. The arrangement also includes bass and Fender Rhodes, with the most poignant element being the small classical string ensemble. Suitably, the song deals with reunions in relationships and how these meetings can highlight the “plans and hopes erased in our maturity.”

The title track 'In A Glass House' opens with a straight, acoustic-guitar–driven rock feel that, in hindsight, isn’t too far from what Dave Matthews would explore decades later. It also features a strong violin presence that brings to mind bands like Kansas and the Dixie Dregs. 

The vocals begin with a flowing phrases that sound deliberately extended—so much so that the singer Derek Shulman seems to only just make it through without running out of breath, which adds a sense of tension and effort right from the start.

Later, it shifts into electric guitar and takes on a more serious edge, even introducing the now-immortal rock cowbell. From there, the arrangement keeps branching outward into a series of side trips and musical detours, including moments of acoustic slide guitar and saxophone. Despite the complexity and constant movement, the track serves as a clear unifying statement for the album, tying together its musical and narrative themes around the fragility of living in a “glass house,” and the idea that the glass can just as easily function as a mirror.

Well... 5 out of 5 dog bones. It's the kind of album you can revisit an infinite number of times and it will never lose its' freshness. There are plenty of ideas to reflect on, both lyrically and musically, and it stays engaging and playful despite some of the more introspective subject matter.

It’s a classic in the sense of a fully realized artistic vision—creative, adventurous, and eccentric, and cohesive from start to finish, with a strong sense of flow throughout.

Freeze The Fall EP REVIEW "The Red Garden" [Melodic hard rock/metal]

 

by Dean Wolfe, Prog Dog Media                   EP released 2025

Don't be fooled by their age. This Canadian teenage trio possesses the kind of musical confidence that many a veteran band spend years to develop. Their sound is aggressive, lean and purposeful—like a small tank charging across the battlefield, nimble enough to dodge obstacles yet powerful enough to flatten them.

Hailing from Kelowna, British Columbia, Freeze the Fall are a hard-rocking power trio who have been turning heads ever since forming in 2022. The band features Quinn Mitzel on vocals and guitar, Aria Becker on bass and backing vocals, and Jonah Goncalves on drums. They've mobilized themselves with a dedicated support team—including parents who help manage the band's affairs—which has allowed them to focus on developing their craft while building momentum at an amazing pace (They just completed their first official tour and a new album is basically finished and will be announced in the near future). 

The Red Garden, a sophomore release for the band, and in fact a concept album, is a cohesive and visionary sonic document, with all of the band's strengths on full display. Quinn Mitzel's vocals can sound deceptively fragile and delicate at times, especially in the quieter piano-based album closer- yet she is equally capable of soaring above the music with amazing power and expression. Though she is fronting a hard-rock band that frequently brushes against alternative metal territory, she never loses the qualities that make her unique. Even amid crushing riffs and pounding rhythms, she radiates a very strong femininity that remains ever-present throughout the EP, bringing grace, emotion, and personality to the music without sacrificing any of the intensity. 

And it shouldn’t be overlooked that Quinn is also holding down the guitar duties, which she does with real capability. Her tones are huge when they need to be, and her clean passages are deft, cool, and well-judged, adding contrast and space within the heavier arrangements. There’s a sense of balance in her playing—enough weight to anchor the riffs, but enough restraint to let the quieter moments breathe. Altogether, there’s a striking amount of raw talent in this band, and it comes through in nearly every layer of the music.

The rhythm section is locked and loaded throughout the album. Jonah Goncalves' drumming is tight, quick, and authoritative, and it's clear that his own unique voice behind the kit is already taking shape. Aria Becker, meanwhile, delivers bass tones that are absolutely massive—borderline rude at times—and may God bless her for that-- the album is all the better for it. Plenty of bass players will finish this record wanting to know exactly what amps and four or five-string axes she's wielding. She also provides backing harmonies, further strengthening the band's female presence and giving the vocal arrangements additional depth. 

The songs across The Red Garden are consistently strong, moving through a wide range of dynamics—from epic to haunting to fully anthemic. Everything is melodic and memorable, but what really stands out is a sense of timelessness that feels almost improbable given the band’s age and experience. A key factor in that achievement is how Freeze the Fall have surrounded themselves with the right creative support. The EP was produced, mixed, and mastered by Jordan Chase, with engineering by Colton Douglas at Oo-de-lally Recordings. That production work is worth highlighting, because the record sounds notably bigger and more refined than most independent releases at this level. The low end is huge, the drums hit with real impact, and Quinn’s vocals sit clearly in the mix without ever being overwhelmed by the guitars or bass—a balance that’s difficult to pull off in modern hard rock. Chase deserves real credit for helping translate the band’s live energy into a polished, cohesive studio sound without losing any edge.

Notable also is the way The Red Garden is sequenced, with a real sense of flow and intention from track to track. The band (and their team) clearly thought about the EP as a complete listening experience rather than just a collection of songs. In between the heavier moments, there are subtle, mysterious ambient textures that act almost like connective tissue—knitting the tracks together and adding atmosphere without drawing attention away from the core performances. It gives the whole record a kind of continuity and mood that rewards listening straight through.

Concerning the lyrical content, I'll quote the band directly: "This concept album explores various social issues that as young people we see play out every day around us, and that we are part of. We talk about social media, technology, the anonymity and falsities that creates, and the imbalance of power that can emerge through these issues."

It was an easy decision scoring The Red Garden EP a perfect 5 out of 5 Dog Bones. What makes it especially impressive is how quickly Freeze the Fall are learning to identify and lean into their strengths, shaping them into songs that feel fully formed and effortlessly engaging. There’s a clarity of vision here that many bands take years to develop, and The Red Garden already feels like a statement of intent as much as a debut-level release—confident, cohesive, and genuinely enjoyable from start to finish.

Angine de Poitrine "Vol. 1" ALBUM REVIEW [microtonal alternative instrumental/math rock]

 

by Dean Wolfe, Prog Dog Media              album released 2024

My first review was of Vol. 2, so I'm coming to this album in the backwards order. I wasn't part of the original wave of fans of this cultural phenomenon. Then, like so many others, I stumbled across what will surely go down as the legendary KEXP YouTube performance—a video that future music historians may well point to as a genuine cultural milestone.

The band's rise seemed almost instantaneous. One day they were unknown to much of the wider public, and the next they were everywhere. I just mentioned them to my hairdresser and, without missing a beat, she knew exactly who I meant: "the polka-dot guys." That's how quickly they seeped into the culture and collective consciousness.

"Sherpa" is definitely a standout track. It echoes, at least a little, the way Led Zeppelin—and especially Jimmy Page—dipped into Eastern-inspired sounds on songs like Kashmir. The bass has a satisfyingly meaty tone that occasionally reminds me of Chris Squire during the era of The Yes Album. 

The vocals have a charming, almost playful quality to them, providing a nice contrast to the weight of the instrumentation. The final section in Sherpa closes with real strength and serves as a perfect example of how Angine de Poitrine's guitar work can sound both strange and wonderful at the same time. It's an unusual combination, but one that the band consistently pulls off throughout the album.

"Tohogd" is another winner. The background vocals are cute—I'm just calling it like I hear it. They give the track a playful personality and help make it one of the album's many endearing moments.

"Tamebsz" is one of those tracks that took more than a single listen to fully appreciate. Its strengths are less obvious at first because there are more subtle things happening beneath the surface, demanding a bit more attention from the listener. 

Even before it starts to reveal all of itself to you, there's plenty to enjoy. The layering is impressive yet again, while the guitars feature some wonderfully clickety-click picking that gives the track a distinctive texture and momentum. There's also some sophisticated use of microtonal intervals which, to the uninitiated, might initially register as "that sounds out of key." But it isn't out of tune at all. Rather, it feels as though you've briefly stepped sideways into an alternate reality where the familiar rules of melody have been overwritten.

It's all so clever—a bit disorienting at first, but more fascinating with every listen.

"Ababa Hotel" — wow. This track grooves deeply and immediately reveals a side of the band that feels much more rooted in 1970s jazz fusion than much of Vol. 2.

It also contains some of my favourite guitar soloing from Khn on the entire album. If I came to this completely blind, knowing nothing about Angine de Poitrine, I'd probably assume I'd stumbled across some lost fusion record from the mid-'70s that had slipped through the cracks.

Anyone familiar with classic fusion acts such as Weather Report or Return to Forever may have a similar reaction. The rhythmic feel, the interplay between instruments, and the emphasis on groove all recall the era when jazz fusion was exploding outward from jazz, incorporating elements of rock, funk, and increasingly adventurous instrumental virtuosity.

There is, however, one major giveaway that this isn't a lost relic from 1975: the guitar. What a strange and unique sound. If I didn't already know about the band's use of microtonal guitars, I'd be completely perplexed. The guitar lines slither and wiggle through the music like a worm crossing unfamiliar terrain, never quite going where your ears expect them to. They seem to bend around the notes rather than simply strike them, creating a sensation that's equal parts disorienting and fascinating.

The result is music that feels simultaneously vintage and futuristic—deeply indebted to the fusion pioneers, yet impossible to mistake for anyone else once that guitar enters the picture.

"Sahardneah" further demonstrates just how many doors microtonality can open. Before discovering Angine de Poitrine, I largely took the standard tuning systems of Western music for granted. Hearing AdP apply microtonal concepts to rock music has completely changed my perspective on what's possible.

In many ways, this band feels as though it has kicked the door wide open for a new branch of Western music. Rather than treating microtonality as an academic experiment or a novelty, they integrate it naturally into songs that still groove, rock, and remain highly listenable.

This is another deep track whose value increases with repeat listens. The more time you spend with it, the more details reveal themselves. There are also some particularly cool and distinctive vocalizations from Khn and Klek. Their vocal contributions add enormously to these songs, multiplying the uniqueness factor and helping create a sound that is unmistakably their own.

That's one of the remarkable things about this album: even when the band draws from familiar influences, the combination of the microtonal guitar work, unusual vocal approaches, and adventurous songwriting results in music that feels genuinely original.

"L'Aberek" is the first track where I really became consciously aware of the time signature. The 7/8 groove plays a significant role in shaping the song's character, giving it an off-kilter momentum that is both engaging and surprisingly natural.

My biggest complaint? It's far too short. Just as the track settles into its groove, it's over, leaving me wanting several more minutes. That's usually a sign that a song is doing something right.

"L'Aberek" was an instant favourite and remains one of the standout tracks on the album for me. Once again, I find myself drawing comparisons to Chris Squire and his bass tone during the classic Yes years. There's that same muscular presence in the low end that helps drive the music forward.

More than anything, the song feels alive. It breathes and evolves organically, never sounding mechanical or constrained. If I hadn't already known the band relied heavily on looping technology, I'm not sure I would have guessed it. The progression unfolds naturally and fluidly, with none of the limitations commonly associated with loop-based music becoming apparent. Rather than sounding assembled piece by piece, the performance feels spontaneous and fully realized, as though the song is discovering itself as it moves forward.

For a track that's over so quickly, "L'Aberek" leaves a remarkably strong impression.

This is essential listening—an amazing and substantial sleeper of a rock album. If this band doesn't get you moving, I'm not sure what hope there is for you. I didn't expect it; my initial score was 4.5 out of 5, but after only a few repeat listens it was already demanding a full 5-out-of-5 Dog Bones rating.

It's a wonderfully strange, hard-rocking and butt-shaking album. Like Volume 2 (and yes, I reviewed Volumes 1 and 2 in reverse order), it's the perfect record to throw on at a party. There's something irresistible here for just about anyone, making it an easy choice for the turntable whenever you want the room to come alive.

Favourite tracks? Sherpa, and for coolest guitar solo work on display by Khn, see Ababa Hotel. 

Tears for Fears "Elemental" ALBUM REVIEW [90's pop rock/alternative/proggy pop]

 

by Dean Wolfe prog dog media.          Released 1993.

I owned a copy of this album when it arrived back in 1993. Returning to it 33 years later, I'm reminded of how much I loved it—and how, despite that affection, it always left me feeling oddly unsatisfied. Perhaps it's not too late to discover why.

There are some towering songs on this album. There are also a couple awkward, forgettable detours. It's the first Tears for Fears album created without Curt Smith, whose presence often seemed to balance Roland Orzabal's strengths and excesses. Can Alan Griffiths—the guitarist and producer who co-wrote most of the material with Orzabal—fill the void?

Griffiths wasn't a newcomer. Having already toured with the band as a guitarist, he and Orzabal had an established working relationship. By most measures, the partnership worked well on this album, producing a record that enjoyed moderate success, that is, compared to the extraordinary heights reached by Tears for Fears' earlier releases.

The title track, "Elemental," is the musical equivalent of a modern Christopher Nolan film. It has countless moving parts and layers, all masterfully orchestrated into a mini prog-pop masterpiece. Ambitious, intricate, and rewarding, it stands as one of the album's most fully realized achievements.

"Cold" is another epic track—somewhat simpler in construction than "Elemental," but every bit as effective thanks to its memorable, anthemic chorus. The guitar plays a major role, with shimmering cascades running throughout the song and helping to give it much of its atmosphere and momentum.

“Here we go,” shouts Roland as the album launches into its hit, “Break It Down Again.” The track is driven by one of its most glorious drum grooves—a rhythmic anchor that feels meticulously crafted, as if it took countless hours to perfect. The chorus is exciting and immediate and surprisingly simple, which only adds to its impact.

Then “Mr. Pessimist” arrives and disrupts the album’s continuity. There’s a sudden shift that feels almost Peter Gabriel-like in approach. It’s an interesting detour, but in the album's context it’s one of the tracks harder to fully settle into.

Then the inexorably silly “Dog’s a Dog’s Best Friend” appears almost out of nowhere—and perhaps should have stayed there? There are, however, two moments that partially redeem it, one of them stripped down to little more than voice and percussion. The rest is harder to defend and raises the question: what were they thinking?

Aha—“Fish Out of Water” lifts the album’s calibre again, but it also exposes a recurring snag for me. On paper it has all the makings of an album highlight, yet by this point the “epic” approach starts to feel like a tiring trope. How much huge snare drum does one need in one sitting? At some point, you want to come back down from the clouds to something warmer and more grounded. The grandeur is impressive, but too much is exhausting.

“Gas Giants” follows, functioning as an arty palate cleanser between songs, with some minimalist vocals. In fact, it feels like you're diving into the strange environment of an aquarium, half-expecting to encounter a water-breathing Roland Orzabal swimming around in the tank. It's catchy.

So “Power” arrives—offering a welcome sense of earthiness and space for breathing. After the preceding stretches of grandeur and detours, it feels grounded and direct, like the album finally loosens its grip and lets the music stretch out naturally again.

“Brian Wilson Said” shifts into a quieter, more acoustic space, with piano, a light jazz drum feel, and upright bass. It’s an interesting piece that helps even out the album’s dynamics. The final line is especially striking—partly because it’s so naked in comparison, free of the usual reverb and production haze, and therefore much more immediate.

The home stretch brings “Goodnight Song,” a quietly satisfying closer that strips away the album’s lingering grandiosity. It has a grounded, simple feel—exactly the kind of restraint the middle section could have used more of, and it's the song I usually listen to eight times in a row. 

An interesting album overall. Not without its flaws, but largely successful. There’s just a dash too much grandiosity where a lighter touch might have served it better. A couple more relaxed, less self-conscious tracks could have made the whole experience feel more balanced.


4 out of 5 dog bones.

Aziola Cry "Dysphoria Ritual" ALBUM REVIEW [Warr-Guitar Driven Instrumental Prog Metal Trio]

by Dean Wolfe Prog Dog Media        (Album released April 17, 2026)

Instrumental music has travelled a long road since The Ventures helped define surf rock beginning in the '50s.

From the opening moments of this instrumental prog metal/prog rock album by Aziola Cry, a few things become immediately clear. Drums matter here, and they sound amazing. Melody matters too, though not enough to become overly hook-driven. Dissonance plays a key role. The music is in constant motion, propelled by fluid tempos and shifting time signatures. Clean and sweet distorted guitars—and the distinctive 12 string 'tappable' Warr guitar—are given room to breathe, sounding full-bodied, beautiful, sharp, sheeny, and gritty throughout the album. The enduring influence of Tool is impossible to miss, a reminder that their impact on progressive music will be felt for generations. And at least for part of your listening day, you won't miss the human voice at all. Even with tracks averaging eight minutes, this trio has plenty to say without repeating themselves. 

And so, Chicago's AZIOLA CRY unveil their fourth album, Dysphoria Ritual, through 7D Media, the label founded by former King Crimson member Trey Gunn. As is so often the case, I arrive late to the party, so consider this the perspective of a newcomer with no prior knowledge of the band or their music.  

Nevertheless, repeated listens quickly put me in my place, earning my respect as this muscular music pummelled my senses—like stepping into a boxing ring for an unexpectedly energizing round.

The narrative behind Dysphoria Ritual traces a gradual retreat into isolation, where instinctive behavior slowly gives way to confinement and the boundary between happiness and misery begins to blur. It is complemented by artwork from renowned visual artist Travis Smith (King Diamond, Opeth, Riverside), reinforcing the band’s commitment to depth, detail, and artistic cohesion.

It should be pointed out that Aziola Cry are a performing band, not just a studio project, and have appeared at festivals such as ProgDay and ProgStock. Even if just for the 12 stringed Warr guitar—akin to a Chapman Stick—this album is worth checking out. It’s a strange musical creature that should have more protagonists in its corner. It handles the dual role of bass guitar and regular guitar. 

Withdrawn and Alone (Track 5) occasionally leans into a kind of detective or sleuth-like atmosphere, with a subtle undercurrent of humour surfacing in places. Midway through, a built-in drum solo gives Tommy Murray space to break out into fast, kinetic playing that briefly shifts the track’s momentum without forcing a lane change.

The Warr guitar-based compositions continue to stand out as something structurally unusual—less like conventional guitar writing and more like an alien logic applied to harmony and rhythm. At times it feels almost non-human in its construction, like if elephants started composing complex music; it’s closer to an unfamiliar system at times than a traditional fretboard language.

Dysphoria Ritual (Track 6), which closes the album, brings everything into a final, controlled crescendo. A standout slide guitar performance helps push it toward resolution, giving the ending a sense of completion, but also dissolution. It functions as a deliberate closing statement—cleanly tying together the album’s ideas and maintaining focus right to the final moment.

The Album Dysphoria Ritual therefore earns a solid 4.5 out of 5 dog bones for its creative, purposeful, and focused thrust, as well as its exploration of the Warr guitar—an instrument that may only just be getting started.

Dysphoria Ritual is now released on CD and digital platforms through 7D Media. 

Some more info about the band: 

AZIOLA CRY:

Jason Blake – Warr guitar (a 'tappable' dual bass/ regular guitar having 12 strings) 

Mike Milaniak – guitar 

Tommy Murray – drums

Recorded and mixed by Steven Gillis at Transient Sound (Los Lobos, Naked Raygun) with additional recording by Amery Schmeisser at Gravel Road Recording, and mastered by Grammy Award–winning engineer Ted Jensen at Sterling Sound (The Eagles, Lamb Of God, Gojira).

Versa ALBUM REVIEW "A Voyage/ A Destination" (Canadian Indie/Post/Progressive Rock)

by Dean Wolfe, prog dog media

For the sake of convenience, I'm reviewing this as the original double album rather than the expanded 20th Anniversary Edition, which includes all of these songs along with a wealth of bonus material and is arguably the more logical purchase.

Versa are, for me, a revelation—like spotting a rare bird in your own backyard. Your first instinct is to grab a camera or your phone. Quick! Before it flies away. But forget all that. Just stand still and enjoy the moment while it lingers on the fence post. It may be gone in an instant.

That's how fragile this music feels to me—something to be savoured rather than captured.

Fortunately, this rare bird isn't about to fly away and vanish like a dream. If anything, it's likely to become your new best friend.

Versa are built around a core trio, supported by a sprawling cast of guest musicians, all led by Matthew Dolmage—a lawyer by day and a songwriter/lyricist of remarkable talent by night. If only his clients knew.

Among the supporting cast are some prog rock luminaries including vocalist Ross Jennings (Haken), and Nick D'Virgilio (Big Big Train, Spock's Beard) and Dennis Atlas (Toto). 

The human voice—male and female alike—is central to the structure this album is built on, with mini-choirs woven throughout. Around it sit haunting upright piano lines, sweet sweet violin, concert and alto flute, horns, long silky threads of clean electric guitar melodies (with the occasional harder-edged passage), electric bass, touches of rock organ, cello, and, of course, drums. But never all at once. The arrangement is spacious, carefully distributed, and unhurried, unfolding with real patience.

Its post-rock atmospherics and momentum may call to mind Godspeed You! Black Emperor. As for its prog rock leanings, the comparison is less straightforward, though Matthew’s influences are clear. He’s a devoted fan of prog—particularly Jethro Tull—and, notably, a very accomplished flautist.

This group is based locally, just down the street from where I live in Victoria, British Columbia—a place I sometimes refer to as Canada’s San Francisco. The comparison comes from its relatively mild climate, high housing costs, and, above all, its setting on Vancouver Island: dense forest, rugged and winding coastline, and striking natural beauty. No doubt that’s part of what’s “in the water,” quietly shaping and sustaining us creatives here.

What makes this double album so compelling is the evident love behind it. It feels almost like the antithesis of music made for profit—not that there’s anything wrong with that, but you know what I mean. Here, music becomes something more personal: joy and intent crystallized into form. The sincerity of the band and their commitment to the work is never in question.The CD artwork and packaging are also excellent, offering plenty to read and take in—from the full list of contributors to the complete lyrics.

Yes, it seems like all I need to do for this review is sing praises for the masterpiece that this album is. Criticisms? Do I have any? Damn it, not a single one. It's warm and vulnerable with humanity, sprawling with adventurous spirit and a dash of weirdness. Versa have made this album all it is and ever can be. Perfect. Just be warned though: it may not hit you all at once. Like all good albums, repeat listens will humble those who are too-quick-to-judge. 5 out of 5 dog bones.