At its core, Spriggan Mist feels descended from the dramatic art-rock lineage of Toyah Wilcox and Kate Bush, filtered through the pagan-folk lens of Steeleye Span and the darker eccentricity of Comus. The Glare sits at a crossroads between progressive folk, theatre and modern symphonic prog, its architecture built less on conventional song-form and more on narrative ritual. The seven pieces form a loose arc—from invocation to revelation—using recurring modal gestures and rhythmic asymmetry to convey the sense of a continuous performance. Husband and wife team Baz (Bass and vocals) and Maxine Cilia (guitars, saxophones, woodwind, and vocals) anchor this highly talented band with guitarist Neil Wighton and drummer Ali Soueidan but the focal point is distinctive voice of Fay Brotherhood (who also contributes acoustic guitar) From the very opening strains of (Intro) The Gaze Of The Dragon, the band sets the tone for the album: a short, atmospheric invocation that blends mist-drifting woodwind and the singular voice of Brotherhood, poised between enchantment and challenge. It feels equal parts portal and prologue. What follows—Ianatores Teresteres—takes that misty opening and pushes it into full-tilt progressive folk rock: dual guitars churning, drums locked in a tight groove, and a vocal delivering mythic imagery ("Wardens of the Gates of Man... Chant in the name of Janus"). The effect is ambitious: folk story-telling dressed in metal and prog-rock attire. It isn't subtle, but neither is it shallow; In Pieces Of Glass, the harp-like plucked intro gives way to an electric guitar solo and woodwind textures that feel as though Mike Oldfield's spirit wandered through a Renaissance festival. The folk imagery ("Glass beauties like eyes... the next move is made") embeds a quiet threat of subconscious control, played out in alternately delicate and aggressive instrumentation. When the album reaches Faery Wood, it delivers perhaps its most affecting moment. The acoustic guitar and flute settle into a slower pace; the voice lowers its shield. The theatricality that runs through the rest of the album here becomes landscape: not spectacle for its own sake, but terrain. In that move, the band speaks plainly and with emotion. By contrast,The Cult shoves you back into the dirt and grit. The juxtaposition of pagan myth with hard rock drive is audacious—and for the most part, it works. Closing with When Stars Collide, the fusion of astrological metaphor, soaring guitar lines and an atmospheric saxophone broaden the harmonic spectrum, adding a late-'70s Canterbury shimmer. The track offers a satisfying arc—from the leafy wood to the star-strewn sky. The album features a vivid, assured sense of identity: few bands today could so smoothly merge pagan-folk imagery, prog structures and modern rock energy. The strong lead vocal performance from Fay Brotherhood throughout is theatrical without being overblown, and the instrumental imagination: the harps, flute/woodwinds, sax, and the guitar interplay all bring textural variety. The thematic cohesion of the album and its narrative arc—from door-keepers, to faery wood, to cosmic collision—gives a sense of journey rather than just a collection of songs. The Glare is a bold statement from Spriggan Mist—a band unafraid to wear their folklore, their prog-rock heritage, and their rock-groove credentials on their sleeve. It doesn't always land in the subtle zone, but it lands true. For those willing to step into the Spriggan's universe, this album offers a rich reward: storytelling, musicianship, and the sense of a band carving out their own woodland-meets-amplifier space in the prog folk-rock landscape. ****+ David Carswell Where to buy? |
