A Cinematic, Symphonic and Deeply Human Solo Statement from the Voice of Leprous
Some of you will know Einar as the extraordinary vocalist, keyboard player and creative force behind the Norwegian progressive band Leprous. Others may be coming to him for the first time with this album. Either way, Vox Occulta is not just another side project. This is a very bold, dramatic and emotionally intense statement from an artist who is clearly pushing further into the cinematic side of his music.
Leprous have always been an interesting band because, while they are often placed within progressive metal, they have never really behaved like a traditional prog metal band. Yes, there is heaviness, complexity and intensity, but there is also a huge amount of space, restraint, atmosphere and emotional tension. The guitar is not always the central point. You do not get endless guitar solos or the kind of predictable instrumental passages that some people associate with the genre. Instead, the music often seems to orbit around Einar Solberg’s voice.
And what a voice it is.
That was one of the things I focused on when I reviewed the Leprous set previously. Einar has one of those voices that can move from a fragile falsetto to a full-throated roar within the same phrase. He can sound vulnerable, haunted, theatrical, operatic, aggressive and almost otherworldly, sometimes all in the space of a few bars. On Vox Occulta, that voice is placed right at the centre of a much larger musical world.
This album was recorded with The Norwegian Radio Orchestra and that is very important. This is not one of those rock albums where an orchestra has been added at the end to make everything sound bigger. The orchestral parts feel like they are part of the architecture of the songs. They are not decoration. They are the walls, the ceiling, the shadows and the light.
The album is released through InsideOutMusic and, on vinyl, comes as a double album with three playable sides and an etched fourth side. There is also an LP-sized lyric booklet, which really helps because this is the kind of album where you want to sit with the words, the artwork and the whole atmosphere of the piece. And, as always, I must mention that the vinyl comes in poly-lined inner sleeves, which Now Spinning Magazine fully supports.
Looking at the cover, you might think this is going to be a straight classical vocal album. Einar looks as though he could be signed to Deutsche Grammophon and about to sing a collection of serious art songs. But Vox Occulta is not that. It is symphonic, yes. It is theatrical, certainly. But it is also heavy, modern, unsettling and, at times, absolutely crushing.
The opening track, “Stella Mortua”, sets the scene perfectly. The orchestra sounds wonderful, but it is joined by heavy drums, dramatic shifts and a sense of tension that immediately tells you this album is going to move between worlds. It has that symphonic metal quality, but not in the obvious sense. This is not the kind of glossy, female-fronted symphonic metal some listeners may think of when they hear that description. This is darker, stranger and more personal. The orchestra is high in the mix, but it works because the music gives it room to breathe.
Einar’s vocal performance is stunning. He moves from falsetto to a roar, from passion to something close to a scream, and yet it always feels controlled. There is nothing casual about this performance. Every phrase sounds like it has been lived in.
“Medulla” is one of my favourite tracks on the album. It has a strong orchestral presence again, but there is also discord, heavy riffing and almost a metal-funk movement in places. There is a Middle Eastern flavour to the melody, which gives it a very different colour from the opening track. The vocal is impassioned and theatrical, and there is some lovely violin work woven into the arrangement.
This is probably not something many people will say, but there was a moment in the chorus where one tiny part of the phrasing reminded me of Paul Stanley. Not in terms of style, because this is obviously a completely different musical universe, but there was just something in the way Einar stretched a word and projected the melody that made me think of Paul’s range and delivery. That may sound odd, but it shows how wide Einar’s vocal palette really is.
The title piece, “Vox”, brings in stabbing strings and builds gradually as the orchestra enters. It is moody, cinematic and full of drama. Then the guitars and drums arrive before the music pulls back again, allowing the strings and vocals to take over. This is one of the reasons I keep using the word theatrical. These songs almost demand a visual element. You can imagine them staged, or filmed, or presented as part of some dark, psychological drama.
There is a remarkable vocal performance here, again travelling through so many different ranges and emotional states. Towards the end, there is an unexpected death vocal-style growl as the guitars return over the main theme. It is a powerful moment and gives the song an even darker edge. This is epic music, but it never feels inflated for the sake of it.
“Liberatio” continues that sense of stop-start orchestral metal. It has an excellent riff, a strong chorus and plenty of interplay between guitars, drums and orchestra. Once again, Einar’s vocal performance is the central point. The arrangement is dramatic, but the voice is the thing that pulls everything together. This is another tremendous track and one that shows how well the heavy and orchestral elements can coexist when they are treated as equals.
“Serenitas” changes the mood completely. It begins with reverb-heavy piano that sounds almost as if it is being played in another room. There is a softer vocal, a beautiful bass line and a ballad-like atmosphere. Strings enter and the song builds to a lovely chorus, with a very clean guitar solo that serves the emotional shape of the track rather than trying to dominate it.
This is one of the most moving pieces on the album. It gives you the light and shade that an album like this needs. Without moments like this, the drama would become too much. “Serenitas” allows the listener to breathe, but it still carries that sense of grandeur and emotional weight.
“Vita Fragilis” brings the intensity back. It opens with percussive strings and a vocal that, at first, almost does have that classical tenor quality. Then a heavy guitar riff enters and the song shifts into something much more aggressive. What I love here is the sense that Einar is almost playing different roles. The vocal moves backwards and forwards between styles, as if different characters are appearing within the same piece of music.
The strings are fantastic on this track. They push the song forward, and as it builds into a driving rock piece the drama becomes almost overwhelming. The screamed vocal moments are delivered with real force, but again, they are musical. They are not just thrown in for effect. This is tremendous stuff.
Then we arrive at “Grex”, which for me is the focal point of the album. It begins with a lone violin over a distant church organ, followed by a slow drum pattern and a falsetto vocal. Gradually, the guitars and strings enter and the whole thing expands into something enormous. This is the longest track on the album and takes up a large part of side three on the vinyl.
The guitar solo here is wonderful. It is melodic, full of feeling and perfectly suited to the scale of the song. It does not feel like a guitarist stepping forward to show off. It feels like another voice in the drama. The track then drops back into a haunting, sparse section, with another beautiful violin passage, before building again towards a huge finale of metal guitars, orchestra and dramatic vocals.
For me, this is the centrepiece. It brings together everything the album is trying to do: the cinematic sweep, the emotional vulnerability, the heaviness, the classical influence and that astonishing vocal range.
The final track, “Anima Lucis”, closes the album with melancholy strings and a lonely vocal. Einar reaches into a high falsetto that is incredibly pure, and the track builds towards a large, emotional conclusion without losing the sadness at its core. It feels like the right ending. Not a simple resolution, but a release.
And that is what Vox Occulta does so well. It builds. It withholds. It creates tension and then allows the emotion to arrive in waves. This is not background music. It asks you to sit down and commit to it. It is a record that rewards the album listener, which is something I know many Now Spinning viewers and readers still value deeply.
For fans of Leprous, this is essential. You will recognise elements of Einar’s voice and emotional world, but this album goes somewhere even more theatrical and cinematic. For those who do not know Leprous, this could be a fascinating entry point, especially if you are drawn to music that combines progressive rock, metal, orchestration and deeply expressive vocals.
It is heavy, but not always in the obvious way. It is symphonic, but not polished into blandness. It is theatrical, but not artificial. Above all, it feels human. In a world where music can often feel increasingly processed and perfect, Vox Occultastands out because it is dramatic, imperfect in the best possible way, emotional and alive.
Einar Solberg has made an album that does not sit comfortably in one box. It is progressive, cinematic, symphonic, metallic and deeply personal. It is also one of those albums that makes the physical format feel important, because the artwork, the lyric booklet, the etched side and the act of turning the record over all become part of the experience.
Vox Occulta is out now on InsideOutMusic.
