The Best Non-‘Epic’ Song by 11 Big Prog Metal Bands

The Best Non-‘Epic’ Song by 11 Big Prog Metal Bands

Dream Theater, “Scene Eight: The Spirit Carries On”

It’s somewhat of a cliché to say that 1999’s Metropolis Pt. 2: Scenes from a Memory is Dream Theater’s magnum opus – which it is – so it’s probably not surprising that it houses their single greatest tune. Penned by guitarist John Petrucci, “The Spirit Carries On” is a magnificently heartfelt and hooky piece that’s equally powerful inside and outside of the context of the LP’s narrative. (Last October, drummer Mike Portnoy even dedicated it to his late sister, Samantha, during a show that took place mere hours after she passed away.)

In fact, “The Spirit Carries On” is a perfect hybrid of tasteful instrumentation and poignant songwriting, with gentle piano chords, contemplative acoustic guitar strums and steadfast percussion guiding James LaBrie’s touching melodies. Its philosophical and optimistic lyricism is top-notch, too, especially the bridge (“Move on, be brave / Don’t weep at my grave / Because I am no longer here / Please never let your memory of me disappear”).

Add in Petrucci’s soulful solo and the Pink Floyd-esque gospel choir and you have a timeless testament to overcoming grief and embracing life.

Queensrÿche, “Eyes of a Stranger”

The last song on 1988’s phenomenal Operation: Mindcrime, “Eyes of a Stranger” is routinely cited as Queensrÿche’s top track. Loudwire even ranked it as such back in 2015. And, although the group has done some great work in recent years, we’d be fools to replace it with something from 2019’s The Verdict or 2022’s Digital Noise Alliance.

As the finale to the highly emotional narrative, “Eyes of a Stranger” packs quite a punch, with Geoff Tate’s soaring turmoil shining as he reflects on multiple aspects of what’s transpired (such as protagonist Nikki losing his identity while lamenting the loss of Sister Mary). Meanwhile, his bandmates match his distress with everything that’s made the album so remarkable up to this point (piercing guitarwork, moody production, impassioned percussion, etc.).

In a nutshell, “Eyes of a Stranger” distills everything great about classic Queensrÿche into one seven-minute jolt of anguish and aggression.

Porcupine Tree, “Heartattack in a Layby”

Porcupine Tree never got as ferocious as most of the other acts on this list, but 2002’s In Absentia undeniably saw leader Steven Wilson embracing his love for heavy prog rock and prog metal. (Obviously, that’s due in part to him working closely with Opeth at the start of the millennium.) In contrast to the buzzsaw viciousness of “Blackest Eyes” and “Wedding Nails,” however, “Heartattack in a Layby” is alluringly tender. It’s also ingeniously tragic, which is why it still reigns as the greatest song Wilson has ever written.

As its title suggests, it revolves around a man who suffers a fatal heart attack as he’s driving. Its dreamy atmosphere is intoxicatingly haunting, as are Wilson’s mournful singing and the serene guitar and piano chords that surround him. Various sounds of the road bring realism to the experience and the authentic simplicity and specificity with which Wilson talks himself through the situation (“If I close my eyes / And fell asleep in this layby / Would it all subside / The fever pushing the day by / Motor window wind / I could do with some fresh air / Can’t breathe too well”) is utterly heartbreaking.

Of course, the traumatic brilliance of the piece truly hits at the end, when interlocking vocals represent Wilson pleading for more time with his partner (which he doesn’t get). He juxtaposes phrases such as “I guess I should go now / She’s waiting to make up” with “Home waits for me / She waits for me” before the saddest line of all (“We’ll grow old / Together”) echoes during the final moments, leaving you absolutely crushed.

Opeth, “Patterns in the Ivy II”

Not to be confused with its instrumental predecessor, “Patterns in the Ivy II” – which was originally cut from 2001’s landmark Blackwater Park – might be Opeth’s simplest song in terms of its arrangement. Yet, as 2003’s entire Damnation record proves, mastermind Mikael Åkerfeldt is often at his best when he’s embracing heartache and nihilism with little more than an acoustic guitar and biting Shakespearean poeticisms.

No other Opeth song demonstrates that with as much harrowing purity, chiefly because of how exquisitely Åkerfeldt’s entangled fingerpicking complements his dejected harmonies and admissions (“Without you, I cannot confide in anything / The hope is pale designed in light of dreams you bring”). From start to end, “Patterns in the Ivy II” is as divine as it is devastating, freezing you in place as you succumb to its beautiful sorrow.

Amorphis, “The Bee”

Finland’s Amorphis have been dominating the melodeath/prog metal scene for over 30 years, so it might seem absurd to pick such a recent song. Nevertheless, “The Bee” from 2018’s Queen of Time surely deserves the love since it’s so relentlessly catchy, colorful and complex.

As the album opener, its lusciously intense introduction builds a ton of suspense and intrigue as it establishes the vibrantly symphonic nature of what’s to come. From there, frontman Tomi Joutsen exemplifies why he has one of the most beautiful voices in death metal as he alternates between grippingly demonic verses; a mesmerizingly purifying bridge (“In the night / Of the river of death / Fly the silent price electors”); and an almost equally fetching chorus.

Plus, the arrangement is ceaselessly fierce yet dazzling, flawlessly ebbing and flowing around Joutsen’s passages. Frankly, there’s not a single moment of “The Bee” that isn’t wholly enthralling.

Gojira, “Flying Whales”

Gojira’s star burned exponentially brighter in 2024 thanks to their performance during the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games. As such, countless new fans were prompted to dig through their catalog and discover their strongest material. It’s safe to say that many of them had their minds blown when they finally got to “Flying Whales” from the French outfits superlative record, 2005’s From Mars to Sirius.

Written as a tribute to the beauty and intelligence of the titular mammals, “Flying Whales” expertly transitions from impactfully sparse gloominess (complete with the sounds of whales) to environmentally conscious hostility. Its main guitar riffs and jackhammer drumming irresistibly assist Joe Duplantier’s concerned outcries. There’s also a beautiful breakdown halfway in, as well as some wacky playing near the end that make the track as adventurous as it is altruistic.

Between the Buried and Me, “Memory Palace”

Okay, so this one is almost cheating because it barely comes in at under 10 minutes. That said and within the guidelines we’ve established for this list, intricately flashy powerhouse “Memory Palace” easily does the best job of capturing what works so well about Between the Buried and Me’s modern transition away from metalcore and into quirky prog metal/prog rock.

It’s the clear highlight of 2015’s Coma Ecliptic, kicking off with an compellingly isolated guitar line that – in typical BTBAM fashion – gives way to an overflow of zany intersecting motifs (some of which reappear throughout the piece). Throughout it, drummer Blake Richardson and bassist Dan Briggs demonstrate their trademark inventive synergy as axmen Paul Waggoner and Dustie Waring dish out one entrancing six-string puzzle after another.

Of course, singer/keyboardist Tommy Rogers interchanges growls, clean singing and spoken word excerpts with as much manic tunefulness as ever (providing  BTBAM’s most peacefully psychedelic segment to date, “Focus on melody / The sounds under my eyes,” in the process).

Honestly, there are dozens of things that make “Memory Palace” a masterfully written and executed composition.

Cynic, “Carbon-Based Anatomy”

This is probably the biggest curveball (and most controversial pick) here, as it’s usually something from 1993’s Focus – such as “Veil of Maya,” “Celestial Voyage” or “How Could I” – that takes the top spot when Cynic songs are ranked. All of them are great, but there’s just something about the title track to 2011’s Carbon-Based Anatomy EP that we simply can’t get out of our heads.

Maybe it’s the feisty urgency of Sean Reinert’s central drum pattern, the menacing guitar licks of Paul Masvidal or the ominous echoes the encompass Masvidal’s cryptic verses. Really, it’s the combination of all three elements, especially with how hey juxtapose the deceptively cathartic and soothing chorus (“Calm the mind / The longing never ends / Not while you’re human”).

By the end – with the addition of peaceful segues, more backing chants and a wild instrumental coda – “Carbon-Based Anatomy” is a tour de force of fascinatingly chilling ideas and textures that permanently etch themselves into your soul.

Riverside, “I Believe”

As one of Poland’s leading genre ensembles, Riverside outdo most of their peers by emphasizing immaculate songwriting above virtuosic playing. Sure, they venture into hard-hitting musicianship from time to time (just listen to “Reality Dream III” and “Escalator Shrine”), but at their heart, the quartet (led by bassist/vocalist Mariusz Duda) prioritize meaningful explorations of love, loss, hope and everything else that constitutes being human.

“I Believe” (from their 2004 debut LP, Out of Myself), represents that wonderfully. An acoustic guitar ballad with delicate accompaniments and thematically resonant sound effects, its gently remorseful strums and heartfelt singing make it overwhelmingly touching and honest. The harmonies that complement Duda when he sings, “You make me so real / I don’t have to shut myself in this cage of me / I see what I haven’t seen” are particularly affective, and the fills of late guitarist Piotr Grudziński near the end excel at punctuating Duda’s distress.

Ayreon, “Day Seven: Hope”

Composer Arjen Lucassen has long been the king of crafting superb modern prog metal/rock operas involving a vast array of notable musicians and singers. The sixth record under his Ayreon moniker – 2004’s The Human Equation – is largely seen as his greatest work, and although there are dozens of magnificent songs scattered around his discography, it’s “Day Seven: Hope” from that same album that gets the nod.

For one thing, the track (alternatively known as “Come Back to Me”) is centered around a lovely keyboard hook that embodies the nostalgic splendor fueling the composition. Alongside it, Lucassen’s jovial singing is delightful, with his character beckoning his juvenile-pal-turned-adult-rival (played by Dream Theater’s James LaBrie) to remember their boyhood escapades, settle their differences and come out of his coma.

For instance, he begins: “Let me take you back / To the time when we were chasing all the girls / Two maniacs / Indulging in the pleasures of this world.” Coupled with the playful music, Lucassen’s memories are charming and genuine, and LaBrie’s eventual declarations to survive (“He may be right / I’ve got to fight / I will pull through / Take me with you”) are powerful not only because of the story itself but also because they evoke a relatable longing to reconnect with childhood friends.

Tool, “Schism”

Look, it was almost inevitable that Tool’s signature song – which got them a Grammy Award for Best Metal Performance in 2002 –  would earn the crown, right? After all, it made them a household name due in no small part to the music video being played frequently on MTV and other networks, and it’s just too damn infectious to brush aside.

In keeping with the overarching themes of 2001’s Lateralus, “Schism” offers a philosophical/intellectual analysis of relationships, communication and the like. Consequently, you can’t help but sing along to frontman Maynard James Keenan’s entrancing sentiments. Even more iconic and hypnotic, though, is Justin Chancellor’s recurring bass motif (not to mention the various ways in which drummer Danny Carey and guitarist Adam Jones emulate and support it).

Plus, it’s full of subtly brilliant touches that are immeasurably cool and inventive (namely, the dynamic breather around 3:00 and Carey’s awesome fill at 6:12). From front to back, “Schism” is a brilliantly suspenseful and resourceful ride that deservingly garners love from just about everyone who hears it (including Rush’s Geddy Lee and this 40-piece orchestra), and it thoroughly epitomizes Tool’s singular chemistry.