The Finnish band Khatsaturjan, named after Aram Khachaturian—known for “Sabre Dance”—has released its fourth full-length album. The project, which was originally intended to perform rock arrangements of classical music pieces in the style of Emerson, Lake & Palmer or Ekseption, has evolved over the years into a band that performs its own structurally ambitious, prog-influenced songs. The three-piece band consists of Atte Kurri (vocals, guitar, bass, and keyboards), Ilkka Piispala (vocals, drums, keyboards, bass, and guitar), and Ilkka Saarikivi (vocals, keyboards, bass, and cello). Since the instrumentation heard on their albums cannot be replicated in live performances, Khatsaturja has remained a studio project.
Unlike previous albums released by Musea, Khatsaturjan’s latest album, Monologue Of Chronos, has not—at least for now—been released in physical format. The reason for the digital-only release is the band members’ feeling that there is no demand for physical albums these days. From the perspective of an older music listener like me, a physical CD or cassette would certainly be a more enjoyable format, but who am I to fight the tide of time? Hopefully, there will be enough interest in Monologue Of Chronos that the guys decide to release the album on a physical disc as well.
Monologue Of Chronos, credited to the entire band, is not a concept album, although in principle at least some of the songs can be seen as the observations of Chronos—the embodiment of time—on our world. The lyrics on the album, written by Atte Kurri, are pessimistic, and at times even gloomy. Fortunately, however, this gloom does not carry over into the music, which meanders through an interesting array of moods and time signatures.
The opening track of the album (which I burned onto a CD-R), “Lessons (On Human Obsolescence),” gets the album off to a promising start. The song is six minutes long, but in that time, this track—which criticizes a world that is apparently becoming increasingly mechanized and reliant on artificial intelligence—manages to explore a wide variety of styles. At one point, it reminds me of early Queen, then Imagine Dragons, and later it even ventures into heavier territory. The keyboard sounds vary refreshingly throughout the track, so right from the opening track, it’s clear that a lot of effort has gone into the arrangements, down to the finest details. Of course, I can’t be entirely sure about the band’s musical influences, but they’ve clearly drawn inspiration from quite diverse sources.
At the beginning of the next track, the keyboard melody brings to mind the soundtracks of horror movies. Fortunately, the guitar part that joins in a little later avoids the clichés typical of heroic heavy metal. “What Was True” flows elegantly, featuring heaviness, melody, carefully crafted instrumental layers, and naturally flowing tempo changes. At times, its style evokes memories of Rush or Queensrÿche from somewhere in the late 1980s or early 1990s, which aligns quite well with my own musical tastes. The imagery evoked by the lyrics takes you on a journey through the virtual reality of the Matrix movies—which is probably why the song’s title asks, “What was real?”
“The Dystopian Spirit Of Club Energy,” which begins with atmospheric piano, shifts in mood quite dramatically when a rather programmed-sounding rhythm track kicks in. The song’s character changes in fits and starts, and toward the end, the machine-like rhythm track lends it an almost oppressive atmosphere. But if the song’s title mentions dystopia, it’s probably pointless to expect any sense of calm. Sequencers and similar elements are used effectively to support or even underscore the song’s dark message. Right at the very end of the song, the music has something in common with David Bowie’s music from the 1. Outside and Earthling eras.
“Song Of Days” takes the mood in an even darker direction, even though the song, on the other hand, has a strangely airy quality. The band’s bio mentions the cello played by Ilkka Saarikivi, and it has been skillfully woven into this track to set the mood. Halfway through the eight-minute track, as the singer whispers, “This is the time, this is the place, these are the neverending days,” the atmosphere is successfully oppressive, almost suffocating. In the final minute, Khatsaturjan once again demonstrates his prowess as a heavy metal performer.
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“DID Memoir,” which kicks off with a reverb-laden guitar intro, works really well thanks to its solid melodies. The song—which starts off almost like a ballad but later shifts into other genres—is executed successfully and features some pleasant surprises—I simply have to mention the downright cheerful jazz interlude! It’s packed with catchy melodic hooks—so much so that, with the right editing, “DID Memoir” could even be played on the radio. Playing the seven-minute track, however, would require the radio host to have at least a momentary lapse of reason.
I admire the contrasts heard in Khatsaturian’s compositions, but coming after the previous track, the beginning of “The Keepers Of Philosopher’s Stone” seems a bit lackluster. After a slight slow start, however, this track also turns out to be quite a successful piece overall. The superb keyboard solo heard throughout—which almost certainly draws influence from Rick Wakeman—is one of the album’s highlights, and “The Keepers Of Philosopher’s Stone” features some truly delightful instrumental flourishes throughout.
Monologue Of Chronos’s diverse range of styles and its successful execution had me expecting something epic to close out the album. “Mundus Meus (This World Of Mine)” doesn’t quite live up to my high expectations, but this album certainly doesn’t end on a flat note. Once again, the song suffers from the fact that it doesn’t seem to get to the point quickly or effectively enough. The atmospheric instrumental intro works, but it’s not until the 7/8-time signature section—which begins after the slow verse and sounds like “a steroid-enhanced version of the intro to Rush’s ‘Subdivisions’” (that’s the image it conjured for me!)—that “Mundus Meus” rises to the level I was expecting. So the song ultimately builds up magnificently. The occasional “more mechanical” sections work wonderfully again, and the Latin choral singing heard right at the very end lends the song a stylish sense of destiny. Although I generally believe that songs should have a clear ending, even the long fade-out at the end could have worked well as a conclusion to the album.
Roughly the length of a traditional album—that is, three-quarters of an hour—Monologue Of Chronos is a superb showcase of Khatsaturjan’s style. The band members’ musical skill, carefully crafted arrangements, unconventional instrument choices, and the songs’ captivating complexity make the album a pleasure to listen to. Even in the shortest tracks, which run just over five and a half minutes, a lot happens, yet they never feel like a disjointed collection of random ideas stitched together. Musically, my only criticism is that, in my opinion, most of the songs could use tighter and perhaps slightly longer intros that immediately grab the listener’s attention. Of course, this is just my opinion on the matter. The structure of the songs on Monologue Of Chronos brings to mind the classics of Black Sabbath, in which different parts naturally come together to form a multifaceted whole.
The use of three singers brings variety to the vocals as well, since each member of the band takes turns as lead vocalist. In some songs, the vocals could have had more power, but perhaps a full-blooded heavy metal singer wouldn’t really be the right fit for these songs. Still… Khatsaturjan is, after all, a studio project, so surely bringing in a guest vocalist wouldn’t have been an entirely impossible idea?
All in all, Monologue Of Chronos was a pleasant surprise. According to what I’ve heard, it took half a year to compose the album, about two years to record it, and then another half year to mix it, but at least to me, that time was well spent. I warmly recommend this album to prog fans who enjoy music in the style of the 1980s.
Author: HEIKKI HEINO
Keywords Finland, progressive rock, 2026
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