The Light That Burns The Sky

Let's be blunt: Arion's "The Light That Burns The Sky" isn't an album; it's an endurance test. A forty-five minute slog through reheated power metal tropes, delivered with all the charisma of a damp sponge. Ranka Kustannus should issue a public apology for unleashing this upon the world – or at least offer refunds.

The band clearly aim to evoke titans like Blind Guardian and Stratovarius, but stumble into something far more tedious. Where those bands conjure soaring epics and genuinely affecting melodies, Arion produces a pastiche of predictable chord progressions and vocals so clean they're practically sterile. There's nothing here that hasn't been done better, louder, and with considerably more conviction.

It’s not just bad; it’s aggressively forgettable – a sonic black hole sucking the joy from existence.

The opening track, "The Darkest Day," sets the tone perfectly: a lumbering ballad that feels like it was assembled from discarded demo scraps. The title track, predictably, attempts to be grandiose but collapses under the weight of its own self-importance. It's all bombastic drums and wailing guitars, desperately trying to compensate for a complete lack of songwriting ingenuity.

"Like The Phoenix I Will Rise" is perhaps the most egregious example of Arion's failings. A five-minute exercise in cliché, it features lyrics so saccharine they could rot your teeth and a chorus that's guaranteed to be stuck in your head against your will – and not in a good way. Honestly, listening to this track felt like being subjected to corporate motivational audio.

There are fleeting moments where the band hints at something vaguely interesting. "Wildfire," for example, possesses a slightly faster tempo and a marginally more aggressive vocal delivery, but it's quickly undone by yet another overwrought keyboard solo and a lyrical couplet about… well, who cares? It's all utterly pointless.

The production is surprisingly competent – everything is crisp and clear – which only serves to highlight the utter lack of substance beneath the surface. The pristine soundscape makes the blandness even more glaring; it's like serving a plate of lukewarm porridge on fine china.

"Black Swan" attempts to inject some darkness into proceedings, but fails miserably. It's just another generic mid-tempo track that blends seamlessly with the rest of the album – which is precisely the problem. There's nothing here that distinguishes Arion from countless other bands playing the same tired game.

The final track, "Into The Hands Of Fate," concludes this agonizing experience with a whimper rather than a bang. It's a drawn-out, meandering affair that feels like an afterthought – which, given the overall quality of the album, is entirely appropriate.

"The Light That Burns The Sky" isn't just bad; it's aggressively forgettable – a sonic black hole sucking the joy from existence. Avoid at all costs unless you actively enjoy listening to musical wallpaper. One out of five stars feels generous.