Style: progressive metal (instrumental)
Recommended for fans of: Plini, Arch Echo, David Maxim Micic
Country: Ohio, USA
Release date: 18 April 2025
“What happened with Legos? They used to be simple. Oh come on, I know you know what I’m talking about. Legos were simple. Something happened out here while I was inside. Harry Potter Legos, Star Wars Legos, complicated kits, tiny little blocks. I mean, I’m not saying it’s bad, I just wanna know what happened.” – Professor Marshall Kane in Community.
The words of the brooding Michael K. Williams character above may resonate with older readers who remember the days before Lego fascism. The Lego experience used to be one of freedom, of having a box bursting at the seams with mismatched blocks and letting one’s mind run wild to build monstrosities whose awful angularities and obvious structural issues were patched over using the naivety of childhood imagination. In the modern era, Lego is a rigidly enforced building experience complete with instruction manuals that should never be deviated from. One can think of music the same way, with genre tropes, certain instruments, and even effects and tones as a similar set of building blocks that can be utilised to create wondrous new imaginings, or the same thing you’ve heard a thousand times before.
Lux Terminus’ debut was hailed as something of a gem in the instrumental scene. With piano as the main event, the Ohian trio separate themselves from the bulk of instrudjental acts by reining in the wankery, centring piano and synth and using a much softer production style. Vikram Shankar’s keyboarding is the main driving force, and he’s backed by Brian Craft’s thrumming basscraft, and Matthew Kerschner’s mix of electronic and acoustic drumwork. Sophomore Cinder is opened by the “Jupiter” triptych which sees Lux Terminus accompanied by the melismatic la-ing and ah-ing of backing vocal trio Espera (Paige Phillips, Mathilda Riley, Lynsey Ward). A recurring motif of grand synth textures is interwoven between an irreverent staccato rhythm, spoken word, and some ambient atmospheres. A bog-standard djent rhythm closes out “Jupiter II: To Bend a Comet” in dirging fashion. The third part throws it back to Espera, who boldly diverge from la’s and ah’s, adding some oh-ing to their repertoire with swelling symphonics to really hammer home the grandeur. And… that’s it. We’re twelve minutes into Cinder and all we’ve heard is a two-minute album intro idea grotesquely swollen to a medically concerning length. It’s an inauspicious opening to say the least.
Unfortunately, Cinder continues just as unpromisingly. Across the album, Lux Terminus are plagued by a puzzling adherence to a banal formula which fails to serve the talents of the band members. Drawing from a handful of compositional building blocks—synthwave textures, djent rhythms, a piano or synth solo, restrained atmosphere-led sections—and proceeding in Lego-like fashion to build songs. “Mosaic Mind” offers some intricate piano work in the verses, some eighties synthwave textures and flows through a range of soundscapes until a glorious key change. “Neon Rain” centres the djent, performed both on piano and bass, returning to its main motif ad nauseam. “P.L.O.N.K.” sounds like a Super Mario Galaxy soundtrack on half speed, utilising relatively simple chords for its epic main melody and with the synth lead and piano rhythm playing in counterpoint. The ideas are there but they’re repeated and reiterated in slightly different forms across Cinder; the same few Lego bricks in slightly different configurations. Even a few tracks in, the instruction manual Lux Terminus are cribbing from is readily apparent to all.
The proof of this comes when people with more imagination join in. Guests Ross Jennings (Haken), Jon Pyres (Threads of Fate), and itinerant sax virtuoso Jørgen Munkeby (Shining) put in an appearance on “Catalyst”, which is the album highlight. Munkeby’s ubiquitous sax provides an engaging hook; Jennings naturally bestows an Affinity-era Haken sensibility to the track; and Pyres is an intriguing melodic foil for him. “Catalyst” is no more interestingly composed than any of the other tracks on Cinder, it just happens to benefit from a saxophonist and two singers playing over the top. And this is Lux Terminus’ problem in a nutshell: rather than composing compelling instrumental music in its own right, Cinder feels like it was composed for a vocalist or other players who never turned up to the recording studio. These are instrumental beds, foundations, the groundwork for something more impressive. But solos come sparingly, rhythms are repeated as though something else, some much-needed focal point, is meant to be happening atop them but was forgotten, meaning the tracks invariably seem rather lacking as a result. Cinder cries out for more guests, talented musicians with their own Lego bricks to creatively complete the constructions.
Almost everything about Cinder is far too reined in. When “P.L.O.N.K.” changes into a calmer gear, it feels completely unearned as the band haven’t done anything to deserve a break. “The Devil’s Eyes” offers some frenetic piano work, but one nevertheless gets the sense Shankar is holding back on us. When solos come along, it’s almost as though they’re merely filling an obligation, and the solo that closes out “Natsukashii” is so buried in the mix as to be disappointing for how ill-tended-for it is. Lux Terminus’ brief sojourns into djent (“Neon Rain”, “Mosaic Mind”, “The Devil’s Eyes”) are invariably their least inspired moments, doling out the most trudging and simplistic of rhythms with little going on over the top to distract the listener. The fact that “Natsukashii” is every bit as dull as the rest of the tracks but decides to be a bit crazy and mix things up with—checks notes—an indistinct shout in the outro, should tell you everything you need to know. Even the production on Kerschner’s drums is so restrained that it does a complete disservice to his talents. While the pads work well in the calmer sections, in heavier moments like those on “Apparent Horizon” he slowly becomes all but washed out.
In a scene chock full of onanistic guitar performances that all sound the same, the guarantee of more compositionally focused performers, softer production, and an emphasis on piano and synths should be a slam dunk. And yet Lux Terminus do shockingly little with those tools, restraining their clear skill and creativity to the point of banality. Nothing about Cinder is unpleasant to listen to—it would take a genuine creative swing to do that—but it’s also never any better than merely nice. Indeed, it’s the sort of album for which nebulous adjectives like “nice” and “pretty” were devised. Like looking at a friend’s £734.99 Millennium Falcon Lego set, Lux Terminus sound flashy and incredibly well put together, but you’re left wondering, “where’s the imagination?” And then you see the box behind the set that reads: Basic Djent Instrumental, for ages 8+.
Recommended tracks: Catalyst, The Devil’s Eyes
You may also like: The Resonance Project, Etrange, Vipassi
Final verdict: 5/10
Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | YouTube | Facebook | Instagram
Label: Independent
Lux Terminus is:
– Vikram A. Shankar (keyboards)
– Matthew Kerschner (drums)
– Brian Craft (bass guitars)
With:
– Paige Phillips, Mathilda Riley, Lynsey Ward (Espera) (backing vocals on “Jupiter”)
– Ross Jennings and Jon Pyres (vocals on “Catalyst”)
– Jørgen Munkeby (saxophone on “Catalyst”)
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