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**Opeth - Sorceress: The Prog Rock Metamorphosis Continues**

For over two decades, Opeth has been the undisputed master of progressive death metal, with 2008's "Watershed" standing as their towering achievement—a perfect synthesis of brutal death metal passages and hauntingly beautiful progressive interludes that showcased Mikael Åkerfeldt's dual nature as both growling beast and crooning poet. That album represented the pinnacle of their ability to seamlessly weave together crushing heaviness with delicate acoustic passages, creating an emotional rollercoaster that few bands could match. But by 2016's "Sorceress," the Swedish quintet had embarked on a radically different journey, one that would either alienate longtime fans or convert them to disciples of their bold new vision.

The road to "Sorceress" began with 2011's "Heritage," a controversial pivot that saw Opeth completely abandoning their death metal roots in favor of 1970s progressive rock worship. This wasn't merely an evolution—it was a complete metamorphosis. Åkerfeldt, citing his growing discomfort with death growls and his deepening obsession with bands like King Crimson, Gentle Giant, and Yes, made the shocking decision to retire his legendary death vocals entirely. The follow-up, 2014's "Pale Communion," continued this trajectory, though it felt somewhat tentative, as if the band was still finding its footing in this new sonic territory.

"Sorceress" arrives as Opeth's most confident statement in their prog-rock era, a swirling cauldron of vintage keyboards, intricate guitar work, and Åkerfeldt's increasingly sophisticated clean vocals. The album opens with the title track, a sprawling eight-minute journey that immediately establishes the record's vintage aesthetic. Layers of Mellotron and Hammond organ create an atmosphere thick with 1970s nostalgia, while Åkerfeldt's guitar work displays a newfound restraint and maturity. Gone are the crushing riffs of "Blackwater Park" or "Ghost Reveries," replaced instead by sophisticated chord progressions and jazz-influenced passages that reward repeated listening.

The album's standout moment comes with "Will O the Wisp," a deceptively simple acoustic ballad that showcases Åkerfeldt's evolution as a songwriter. Stripped of all progressive pretensions, the song relies purely on melody and emotion, proving that Opeth's new direction isn't just about showing off their record collections. "Chrysalis" follows as another highlight, its hypnotic groove and psychedelic flourishes creating something that feels both retro and timeless.

However, "Sorceress" isn't without its challenges. "The Seventh Sojourn" meanders through its seven-minute runtime without ever quite justifying its length, while "Strange Brew" feels like pastiche rather than genuine artistic expression. The album occasionally suffers from what might be called "vintage gear syndrome"—so enamored with recreating the sounds of the past that it forgets to inject its own personality into the mix.

What makes "Sorceress" fascinating is how it represents both a continuation and a rebellion against Opeth's legacy. Longtime fans who fell in love with the band's ability to seamlessly blend beauty and brutality might find themselves mourning the loss of those crushing death metal passages. Yet there's something undeniably compelling about watching master musicians completely reinvent themselves at the peak of their powers. Åkerfeldt's clean vocals have never sounded better, displaying a warmth and range that was often overshadowed by his growling prowess in earlier works.

The production, handled by Tom Dalgety, strikes an perfect balance between vintage warmth and modern clarity. Every instrument occupies its own space in the mix, from Fredrik Åkesson's tasteful lead guitar work to Joakim Svalberg's vintage keyboard textures. The rhythm section of Martin Mendez and Martin Axenrot provides a rock-solid foundation that allows the more experimental elements to flourish.

Five years later, "Sorceress" has aged remarkably well, serving as a crucial stepping stone in Opeth's ongoing evolution. While it may never achieve the legendary status of "Watershed" or "Blackwater Park," it represents something equally valuable: proof that great bands can completely reinvent themselves without losing their essential identity. For a group that once defined an entire subgenre, "Sorceress" demonstrates that true artistry lies not in