How many times have I said that some albums seem tailor-made just for me? More than a few, by my addled-brain estimation. And yet that’s where we find ourselves with Heather & Hearth, the second album from Spain’s Phantom Spell, which is essentially one guy. But that guy, Kyle McNeill, seems to have offered up his soul to be the perfect vessel for 70s analog progressive rock (emphasis on the rock) blended with NWOBHM and a keen ear for songwriting. Like I said, tailor-made just for me. Due to…well, everything, it took a while to secure a copy on vinyl. But now it’s landed and I can finally talk about why I was so persistent in grabbing a physical copy.

Before even jumping into the music, check out that cover artwork. Artist Jean deMers not only crafts an image that embodies the spirit of Heather & Hearth’s lyrical bent (this goes deep into the folk and fantasy) which looks stunning on a 12″ square, and the album comes with a poster of the back cover, which you can see here. But it’s also the colors. We really don’t get enough pinks and purples in our metal artwork anymore, and it’s striking.

But artwork only gets you in the door; thankfully the music is just as righteous. Opener “The Autumn Citadel” takes two of its 12-minute runtime to show off with an instrumental fanfare, an overture of royal rock with enough crunchy guitars and keyboards to satisfy anyone putting the sniff test on McNeill’s authenticity, or his facility handling all the instruments. Vocally he’s just as deft, with a clean, sonorous voice that’s captivating on the song’s – and album’s – plentiful hooks. And he treats the keyboards just as much of a lead instrument as his guitar: this isn’t a case of providing atmosphere or layers to bulk up and expand the sound. The next two tracks are more concise at under four minutes apiece, with “Siren Song” providing some lush acoustic guitars before moving into regal pageantry. On the other side of the coin is the ripping rock of “Evil Hand” with a killer hook in the chorus.

Heather & Hearth’s second side is more sedate, opting for a more measured pace in “A Distant Shore” and its second epic, the 11-minute title track. But “Heather & Hearth” picks up with a gallop that, while not exactly exploding out of your speakers, is still exciting in the way McNeill structures its various sections. This is where that keen ear for songwriting comes into play: this could have been a series of disjointed, wheedling instrumental breaks packaged as a “song,” but in McNeill’s hands he makes sure the parts congeal and provide a sonic arc just as much as the narrative does.

If that was the entirety of the album, it would work – in fact it does work, since that’s apparently how it ends on streaming services. But Phantom Spell has at least one more trick to play on its physical incarnation (you also get it if you purchase the digital version on Bandcamp), and that’s the beautiful a cappella arrangement of the folk tune “Old Pendle” which closes out the vinyl version of Heather & Hearth.

This is why it’s important to own the media you love, folks. You never know what you’re going to get within.