Founded in 2012 as a solo project for vocalist/keyboardist Adam Warne, KYROS (which, until recently, was known as Synaesthesia) is an English progressive/space rock quintet currently rounded out by Sam Higgings (backing vocals/guitars), Peter Episcopo (backing vocals/bass), Joey Frevola (guitars), and Robin Johnson (drums). Their 2014 debut LP, Synaesthesia, earned them plenty of attention from outlets like PROG Magazine, ProgArchives, and Eclipsed Magazine, as well as live supporting slots with renowned acts like Marillion and Spock’s Beard. It’s no surprise, then, that their follow-up, Vox Humana, comes with hefty undercurrent of high expectations. Luckily, it satisfies them without hesitation, taking listeners on a lengthy, colorful, catchy, and robust ride that fuses elements of Pink Floyd, Muse, Rush, and early Porcupine Tree (among others) into a consistently engaging journey.
Vox Humana is actually KYROS’ “first professional release as a band since transitioning from a solo studio project whilst signed to GEP Records.” In addition to the aforementioned players, it “features a full live brass section with parts arranged by Raymond Hearne [Haken],” and it was mastered by the revered Jens Bogren (Opeth, Katatonia, Devin Townsend). Of the album, Higgins claims that it’s “a true expression of our vision as a band . . . [it’s] a concept double album, spanning a broad range of sounds, with a narrative that explores themes around what it is to be human.”
The first disc, “The Maker,” finds the title track serving as a half-minute opener consisting of various sounds spinning quickly (like a car moving incredibly fast and a tape being rewound rapidly); While it’s not essential (or even musical) by any means, it does provide an interesting build-up for the LP’s first proper piece, “Technology Killed the Kids II.” Whereas its predecessor (from Synaesthesia) was an instrumental, this second entry is packed with defiant vocals and prophetic lyrics (regarding machines, destiny, and the like), as well as the same kind of synth-focused complexity that made the original so remarkable. It’s an extremely vibrant and multifaceted adventure, with hypnotic riffs, voiceover allusions, and overarching keyboard governance (evocative of IQ) keeping you enthralled all the way through.
The rest of “The Maker” fairs equally well. For instance, “Cloudburst” (the album’s maxi-single) is bright, poppy, and accessible, with the kind of driving melodies and slightly gritty singing that instantly channels John Mitchell (Frost*, It Bites). There’s also a fair amount of soaring guitar work, too. Afterward, “Persistence of Vision” and “The Lamb, the Badger & the Bee” complement these elements with inviting yet intricate rhythms and significant stylistic shifts; the latter piece even borrows Haken’s trademark vocal rows and dense, purposeful harmonies (to be fair, though, they got it from ‘70s icon Gentle Giant). Finishing out the disc is “New Paradigm,” an epic excursion bursting with symphonic grandeur and emotion (including choral backings). It’s also the most dynamic track so far, as each moment of soft and spacey pondering is bookended by vivacious, polygonal passages.
The second disc, “The Human Voice,” actually flows more like a continuous suite, and it kicks off with “Mind Electric,” whose initial industrial noises eventually give way to atmospheric tones, fierce guitar chords, and pounding percussion. From there, fragile vocals guide moments of tranquility in-between the aforementioned explosiveness. Overall, it’s probably the most aggressive track thus far, and KYROS does a good job of balancing its carnival-esque heaviness with heavenly interruptions to keep it interesting. It also bleeds seamlessly into “Speak to Me,” a more affective and bouncy piece lead by resolute synths and guitar riffs, as well as some playful new timbres that add life to the KYROS formula.
The remainder of the sequence contains many more gems, such as the gripping momentum of “Monster,” the harsh contrasts of “Hounds” (it begins like an acoustic ballad and fades away with isolating metallic percussion), and the beautiful, dreamlike majesty of “The Darkness Grove” (which is easily one of the most alluring and distinctive tracks on the entire record). Near the end, “Boiling Point” offers some of the most complex and in-your-face arrangements of the whole set, while “Ego” finds Johnson showing off a bit with some thrilling fills as the rest of the instruments surround him. As for “Dilate,” it concludes Vox Humana on a heroic and moving note, combing orchestral flourishes with motivational foundations that signify a grand finale. It also goes through several temperaments, such as outrage, hesitation, and fragile realization, before reaching its triumphant closing (complete with horns), and the warm vocal counterpoints roughly three-minutes in are particularly rewarding.
Vox Humana isn’t immensely original or varied, yet KYROS manages to do something with it that too few of their contemporaries ever accomplish: meld a multiplicity of obvious influences into a gratifyingly fresh sound. In other words, the record remind genre enthusiasts of other bands, but it still captures enough ambition, technique, and textural splendor to make it captivating and noteworthy. Best of all, it exemplifies how far KYROS has come over the years, as well as why this new incarnation and direction is one to keep an eye on for the foreseeable future.