Ethereal Metal

Ryan Murray | Co-Owner | Chief Editor | Contributor | Photographer

r.m.music84@gmail.com

There’s a certain electricity that runs through From The Fade — the kind that doesn’t come from volume or tempo, but from musicians who know exactly what they’re doing and why they’re doing it. Joel Hoekstra has spent years operating at the highest levels of the genre through Whitesnake, Trans-Siberian Orchestra, and beyond, but this record under Joel Hoekstra’s 13 feels deeply personal — rooted in riff worship, melody obsession, and a refusal to coast.

You Can Give opens the door with grit already in its teeth. The main riff coils and releases in the same breath, thick with tension, Tony Franklin’s fretless bass sliding underneath it like dark water. Vinny Appice drives the groove with that unmistakable physicality — every snare hit landing with intention. Before the first chorus finishes, the band feels fully locked in, not warming up, not testing the ground. The guitar solo rises out of the song instead of interrupting it, bending notes until they nearly ache.

Without breaking that momentum, The Fall pushes deeper into shadow. There’s a muscular melodic pulse running through it, something that nods to classic hard rock lineage while staying grounded in the present. Girish Pradhan leans into the upper register with control and grit, his voice riding the hook instead of overselling it. Derek Sherinian’s keyboard solo flashes through the center of the track with dramatic flair, expanding the landscape rather than decorating it. The whole thing moves like a machine built by hands that have done this a thousand times — and still care.

Lifeline coils around the rhythm, the drums thudding with relentless insistence, riffs cutting sharp and precise, while Pradhan’s vocals push through with controlled force. The chorus opens wide, built for crowds that know every word by the second listen. There’s lift here, a sense of forward motion that feels undeniable. That energy rolls seamlessly into Will You Remember Me, where the space between chords widens and the mood turns reflective without losing its backbone. Hoekstra threads melodic leads through the verses with restraint, letting sustained notes linger just long enough to leave a mark. (I found myself sitting with that solo longer than expected, replaying the phrasing in my head hours later.)

Midway through the album, Misunderstood and Start to Fight shift the weight back onto the riffs. Misunderstood carries grit in its core — Appice’s groove grounded and heavy, Franklin’s bass lines curling around the guitar like smoke. The chorus lands with force, clear and direct. Then Start to Fight arrives with sharpened edges, born from the period when Hoekstra was filling in with Accept. The attack feels deliberate, the riff cut tighter, the tempo pushing forward with urgency.

The emotional temperature changes again through All I’d Do and Free To Be. The former opens up the arrangement, allowing melody to take the lead. There’s warmth in the progression, something vulnerable without becoming fragile. Pradhan delivers one of his most compelling performances here, his voice settling into the song with depth and clarity. Hoekstra answers with phrasing that feels conversational, almost reflective. Then Free To Be expands the frame — broader, more open, harmonies stacking high behind the chorus. Jeff Scott Soto’s backing vocals thicken the impact, adding dimension without pulling focus. It feels massive in all the right ways.

The End Of Me simmers. Tension builds slowly, the verses holding back just enough to make the chorus feel like a release valve snapping open. Hoekstra’s lead work here carries weight — bends stretching toward something unresolved, sustained notes hovering in the air. There’s drama in the restraint, in the refusal to rush the payoff. I kept coming back to this track because it lingers long after it fades.

By the time Quite The Ride closes the album, the journey feels complete without feeling exhausted. The melody carries quiet strength, reflective yet grounded. The band sounds unified — Appice steady and powerful, Franklin fluid and textured, Sherinian painting depth across the edges. Hoekstra’s final guitar lines glide confidently across the mix, unhurried, fully aware of the space they occupy.

Throughout From The Fade, the musicianship remains razor-sharp without tipping into indulgence. The riffs are built to last. The choruses stick. The solos serve the song. There’s no excess, no filler, no chasing trends. Every track feels intentional, shaped by years of experience and sharpened instincts.

This is melodic hard rock played right, burning with conviction and a clarity so sharp it cuts through the silence. It carries weight, heart, and purpose.

And it plays like a band that still has something to say. If you’re not listening, you should be.

Verdict: 4.7/5