Phantom Spell – Heather & Hearth Review

[Album artwork by Jean deMers]

There are times when I’m enjoying a spin of the LP version of the Phantom Spell debut, 2022’s Immortal Requiem, where I notice the CD version of Seven Sister’s Shadow of a Fallen Star Pt. 1 (a favorite of mine from 2021) looking over at me with troubled eyes.

“Why do you have the LP version of my kinsman, but the CD version of me,” it asks clairvoyantly. “Does that mean you love it more?”

No, no, no, my dear friend. I have that album on CD as well.

“YOU FUCKING WHAT???”

Right. Apologies in advance for my inability to cleave Phantom Spell from Seven Sisters, but both are led by the dynamic force that is Kyle McNeill, and my introduction to the latter project initiated with the release of Shadow of a Fallen Star Pt. 1, which was followed approximately nine months later with the debut from Phantom Spell. So, yes, even if they really don’t sound much alike—apart from McNeill’s very fine and pronounced vocals—they are enduringly connected in my rapidly ripening brain.

Gun to my head, though? Force Glenn Close into the world’s least enviable position?

“DON’T YOU DO IT, MAN. DON’T YOU DARE DO IT, YOU CHEEKY BASTARD….”

No, I cannot and will not pick a favorite, despite the fact that both projects have decided to land their newest releases within earshot of one another in 2025. Ultimately, this is akin to comparing and contrasting cat and dog colleagues: They’re both companions you love for similar AND different reasons, and even if one is attached to your hip more than the other, that doesn’t mitigate the love you have for the pal that happens to be a modicum more self-sufficient. In this extraordinarily believable scenario, Phantom Spell is my personal Benji-like mixed-breed Terrier stuck to my side, and Seven Sisters is my dear Jonesy. Dissect that analogy as you will, and don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.

So, what’s the fundamental difference between the two projects? Easy: Prog rock. Where Seven Sisters spins fantastical yarns around a classic form of traditional heavy metal, Phantom Spell drops stacks of mythical lore by embracing McNeill’s obsession with classic progressive rock comparable to Kansas and Camel—an endeavor he finally put into action amidst the more restless days of the pandemic. Here’s a snippet of what I had to say about Immortal’s Requiem back in August of 2022:

“Phantom Spell’s overall footprint is a touch lighter compared to Seven Sisters by design, and while it clearly takes a page from modern-edged throwback bands in the vein of, say, Hällas in the way it swears allegiance to the E.L.P.’s and Van der Graaf Generators of yesteryear, it similarly never stretches the progginess to a point of excess. So, don’t expect to slip away for a couple bowls of Apple Jacks and come back to the same spirited Korg / Fender battle ten minutes later.”

I wouldn’t say that’s necessarily changed for full-length number two, but Heather & Hearth does find McNeill stretching his legs compared to what went down with Immortal’s Requiem. More specifically, there are two 11-minute+ songs that launch and end* (*outside of an unlisted bonus track: “Old Pendle”) the record, but they still don’t feel overly stretched in an outright ‘prog jam session’ sort of way. Yes, these two cornerstones are the most elaborate of what’s offered, but this is essentially a case of two songs taking the most ambitious advantage of the biggest shift in the Phantom Spell book for 2025: The folk element. This gives Heather & Hearth an even stronger medieval sense across the board when compared to Immortal’s Requiem, so think Mythical & Magical from Pagan’s Altar for the NWOBHM component, but continue to expect that distinct HOOK that put a band like Kansas and prog rock records like Leftoverture and Point of Know Return on so many people’s radars.

“A Distant Shore” is actually a great song to offer up as a lead, um, “single,” as it manages a lot of what makes Heather & Hearth such a heartfelt victory inside a relatively concise venture. The track starts off slower-paced and moody, with all instruments (done solely by Kyle McNeill, by the way) swirling in the smoke of a building spell. By about 40 seconds in, it’s mostly McNeill’s wonderful voice and a soft bit of keys playing off one another, with a very casual rhythm shuffling in the backdrop. Kyle belts out “And the road we walk along… Goes on forevERRRRRRR,” followed by one of a great many Moog breakouts that occur up and down the record. You start to wonder if the whole cut might be a more somber, slower number, but then a bolt of lightning hits around 2:45 and we’re suddenly off to the races on a fairly brisk and super fun prog sprint. Organ and noodling guitar play atop a jaunty swing, and that explosion of melody at 3:20 is just irresistibly catchy. Then, back to a quieter footprint for the song’s closing 2 minutes. Some form of keyboard harpsichord FX nuzzles in, and McNeill slowly laments: “Like… An open book without an end / No author, no secrets, no sense…,” and the momentum slowly begins to ratchet up again, even adding a bit of choral accompaniment. And just when you think there’ll be one last dash, the song… abruptly ends, which seems totally awkward on paper, but McNeill makes it work.

The rest of the fare is equally adventurous, with as much emphasis placed on Moog / organ / lead guitar interplay and the ultimate goal of drilling a central hook deep into the listener’s memory cache. The two other shorter cuts—“Siren Song” and “Evil Hand”—juxtapose the light(er) and dark(er) off one other, with the former blending an absolutely gorgeous bit of somber folk in its opening moments before shifting to the sort of Bleak House / Omega NWOBHM that made Immortal Requiem hit so soundly, and the latter shelves all the embellishments in favor of full-throttled ENERGY that goes right for the throat.

Those cornerstone 11 minute-plus songs, though? They are epic quests that pretty much nail the textbook definition of ‘showstopper’. Starter “The Autumn Citadel” spotlights a snappy Moog and guitar lead battle before the song even crosses the opening minute, and then it fully grips the listener with offsetting measures of vigorous galloping, some much more tranquil currents, and even some speedy clapping / flamenco bits before gold-plating the listener’s ears with what has to be considered the catchiest chorus from the project to date. Seriously, there have been at least three occasions where the very first words that have sprung to my mind upon waking up in the morning have been:

“Through a shroud of GOLDEN FIRE!
The autumn citadel! That’s where the ancient’s dwell.
Hear the cries from OUT THE SPIRE!
The autumn citadel! A fate only time would tell.”

And the title track… Just a lovely folky and heroic finisher that comes out of the gate slow and solemn, like a funeral march for a recently fallen hero. McNeill’s voice was already quite good leading up to the release of Heather & Hearth, but it seems like he’s made strides as far as nuances are concerned, particularly amidst these quieter moments; his voice is soft and comforting, but not at all overly maudlin. And sisters and brothers, when it’s time to BELT IT OUT, he damn-near hits Eric Adams territory at times. Case in point: Right around the song’s 4-minute mark, McNeill cooly intones “As time slips away / On the heather I lay,” and you can almost smell the subtle floral notes and hear the bees humming as the song is placidly shuffling along. A stunning bit of guitar melody drifts to the forefront, momentum begins to intensify, another lead fires across the bow, and then WHAM: “SING TO MEEEEE! / PROUD AND FREEEEE!” Mother of… play that stretch for someone flatlining and watch them leap to life in search of the closest virtuous steed.

Okay, and that bonus track, “Old Pendle.” I’m still not quite sure what the deal is there, but I’m fairly certain it’s available on both the CD and LP versions of Heather & Hearth, and also if you buy the digital version from bandcamp. It is a keeper, let me tell you—a cover of an old English folk song about a hill (Pendle Hill in NE Lancashire) where witches once caroused, and a tune that definitely serves to underscore what I was saying earlier about McNeill finding the next level with his voice. It’s a beautiful and extremely fitting postscript to an already very rewarding record, and even with it tacked on the end the album rounds out at a very tidy 40 minutes.

It wasn’t that long ago—March of 2025—when I admitted to being “hypercritical about one-person metal acts.” I would say that’s still very much the case, but when something this well-rounded and gratifying rumbles down the chute, it makes me rethink that somewhat shitty attitude. McNeill’s Phantom Spell project absolutely nails this strange realm where the NWOTHM collides with the spirit of some sort of “Manilla Road version of Kansas that never got the break they deserved back in the ‘70s,” and it’s all the product of one mind, which is exceptional. Furthermore, I’d say Heather & Hearth manages to eclipse its predecessor, simply because it finds new ways to reach that next step higher: It’s proggier, the new folk element suits the songwriting perfectly, it feels heavier (possibly due to the way that folk offsets the galloping), and I think McNeill has grown as a singer. Simply put, Heather & Hearth is an absolute stunner, and it’s a shoo-in as an adversary that will clash TO THE DEATH with the latest Vulture’s Vengeance and Reflection albums for Favorite Traditional Metal Album of the Year. Wait, whaaaa? I’m already drawing those battle lines? Hey, amigos, we’re officially halfway through the year: Time to start training in them boiled leather combat breeches.

And hey, look! Kyle McNeill has put together a touring band to play Phantom Spell songs live! [much rejoicing]