Album Review: An Abstract Illusion – “The Sleeping City” (Progressive Death)

Written by Kep

We here at Noob Heavy were enormous fans of Woe, the 2022 sophomore release by Swedish progressive death powerhouse An Abstract Illusion. In his review, our friend and former site writer Swatty called it “a thinking person’s album…where wonder and awe can be stunningly achieved” and yep, that about sums it up. It landed at 3 on my AOTY list, behind only albums by Hath and Tómarúm. Woe was a stunning achievement in emotive, compelling musical craftsmanship that made me hungry for more, and the three years between its release and the announcement of The Sleeping City felt like an eternity. 

With the wait finally over, I’ve been able to spend some quality time with An Abstract Illusion’s new offering, and like its predecessor it’s an impressive work of both striking immediacy and remarkable depth. While Woewas arranged as a single piece of through-composed music, The Sleeping City is presented in more traditional fashion, with seven separate songs. Once again there are themes and ideas both musical and lyrical that tie the individual pieces together: the undulating waves of synth that permeate the runtime, for example, and bits of familiar chord progression. The band crafts an even more immersive atmosphere, blending cinematic elements deftly with stormy blackened fury, breathtakingly brutal violence, and moments of introspection and colorful beauty. 

Lush synth is the first sound on this record, billowing over the ears like a rolling bank of lavender clouds, and it’s immediately clear that The Sleeping City resides in a more colorful, more futuristic soundworld than its predecessor. Clean drops of keyboard tones float atop acoustic guitar and thick banks of chords; this is an album that prioritizes depth of sound and immersive textures, with each measure and chord change as rich as a tapestry. This first track, “Blackmurmur”, is a journey unto itself, sweeping and ambitious, showcasing at one point proggy clean vocal harmonizes that will become one of many album throughlines. It’s the crisp, powerful drumming of Isak Nilsson in the middle section, though, and the spacey synth licks that lead to the breathtaking final minutes, that really thrust the song into magnificence. 

As “Blackmurmur” so clearly lays out, these are complete package songs, sweeping voyages across horizons and towering landscapes that never feel aimless or stagnant. They breathe like living things, each with moments of blissful calm and contemplation, each with tremendous peaks that arrive in glory after minutes of burning build. It’s no small achievement to write a 61-minute work that never feels like it loses its momentum, even in its smallest and most intimate moments. Album midpoint “Frost Flower” strikes me as a piece of music that is particularly emblematic of An Abstract Illusion’s abilities: comfortable grooves, heavenly melody, windswept crescendos, towering walls of awe-inspiring sound, all placed spaciously into a grand, cinematic atmosphere. 

On an album this substantial, providing memorable moments—the sort that jump into your ears and make you want to listen again to hear what made them so compelling and to understand what made them so striking—is essential. One of An Abstract Illusion’s biggest triumphs here is the sheer number of moments fit that bill. A comforting passage of burnished golden warmth that glows from the speakers in “No Dreams Beyond Empty Horizons”. The tumultuous dissonant opening of “Like a Geyser Ever Erupting” where great pillars thrust upward from the texture like enormous jets of water from a roiling sea, and later, agile licks of guitar that leap like joyful sprites in play. The devastating beauty of keyboardist Robert Stenvall’s voice as he floats in rapturous, unforgettable melody in “Frost Flower”, and the second half’s breakdown-esque passage built on the opening keyboard lick. There are glimmering streaks of falling stardust woven into “Emmett” and a barely perceptible yet particularly haunting bit of melody obscured behind the final stretch’s cacophonous maelstrom of screams and noise. The djenty lurching groove of the title track’s first section, and the way it subtly appears again between two marvelous guitar solos, solos in which it feels like every emotion and color on the album is revisited in a thrilling rush of passion.  

The record is produced impeccably, a vibrant variety of sounds distributed throughout a wide range of dynamic space. Girth and ferocious power roar forth before being belied by delicate beauty and stretches of restrained but arresting growth. The prominence of Stenvall’s vivid synth lines is a real treat, but the band also adeptly blends those tones deeper into the texture at times. Karl Westerlund’s guitars and bass create a kaleidoscopic array of tone, while the sound from Nilsson’s drums is nothing short of immaculate. The final element, Christian Berglönn’s formidable harsh roars and anguished screams, is mixed skillfully as the capstone on what’s nothing short of a masterclass in metal production.

THE BOTTOM LINE

So have An Abstract Illusion managed to outdo themselves and follow a masterpiece with an even better effort? Honestly, it’s exceedingly hard to say. My gut says I like Woe better, but then again, it’s been a friend for years now, and The Sleeping City still has layers and character yet to reveal—and I can’t wait to spend even more time with it. What I know for sure is that The Sleeping City is by no means a step down, and that it has undoubtedly met my expectations, which were sky high. It stands with Woe as one of the most impressive two-album runs this century. This is a must-listen album, and deserves every single bit of the praise it will receive.