‘ultraterrestrial’ by herman martinez feels like wandering through a museum of fossils that don’t exist yet – strange, luminous, alive with ghosts of creativity. it’s an album that turns silence into a landscape and memory into melody.

based in atlanta, martinez weaves prog, art rock, and math rock into sprawling soundscapes that feel both chaotic and deeply intentional. songs like changeling and sol blur the line between self-identity and creation, while others move like living rooms of sound – places where memories become landmarks and songs become soundtracks to dreams. recorded on the outskirts of atlanta, the process was marked by fits of chaos, madness, and unbridled imagination.

in his own words, martinez says: “i kind of took the concept of liminal spaces in photography and movies and tried to assimilate it into my writing style to create musical landscapes that feel like living spaces. the places where your memories become landmarks and songs become soundtracks to dreams. these songs were always here, i just slowly chipped away at the silence. i put the pieces together like the fossils in a museum that doesn’t exist yet.”

as a full record, ultraterrestrial is less a collection of songs and more a map of forgotten dreams – nostalgic and otherworldly, pulling listeners into unseen frequencies. it’s not just heard, it’s inhabited.

each song feels like a shard of memory, a constellation in the wider sky of ultraterrestrial. to step closer, we follow them one by one.

uncanny valley opens the album in the half-light, riffs caught between the mechanical and the human. the crowd of voices unwraps into a song that unsettles with its strange familiarity. it’s riffs a plenty, and a plaintive vocal – every turn feels both a little threatening but also magnetic. it’s a big opener.

changeling flickers like shifting skin, a restless exploration of identity. there’s time signatures that bring to mind a cleverness, but the energy inside it is raw and disorienting. it’s all jagged guitars asking what it means to know yourself at all, and requesting to ‘take me with you’. we love it.

thagomizer bristles with prehistoric energy, its riffs jutting like spikes with some incredibily impressive drumming. again, mathy rhythms abound in a playful but dangerous, almost menacing way. martinez takes a title rooted in absurd paleontology and makes it into something urgent and alive, reminding us that sound can be both a weapon and incredibly fun. .

smudge feels like a photograph left too long in the sun. in the main, a soft moment as we head to the midpoint of the album. after a really, really beautiful section where guitars melt into distant pianos, the coda veers into almost band of gypsies-era hendrix and we’re left longing for more.

cauda pavona, latin for “peacock’s tail,” spreads wide in colour and flourish, and dynamic. probably one of the record’s most cinematic moments, unfurling in waves that feel both ornamental and essential. the arrangement blooms slowly, pulling you into a kaleidoscopic landscape that genuinely dazzles with acoustic guitar, stunning drums and piano once again.

unreliable narrator plays with perception, a mid-tempo banger telling its story sideways. rhythms skip, tones shift, and you’re never quite sure what’s solid beneath your feet. ‘slowly i was dissolve, into melodies that don’t resolve’ – it’s a reminder that every story – even in song – is unstable, and martinez leans into that instability with playful precision.

the title track ultraterrestrial is the record’s stunning centerpiece – and it’s high moment too. at over seven minutes, it drifts through chaotic storms of sound and moments of startling tenderness. it embodies martinez’s vision of “dreams into reality” – overwhelming but strangely comforting, like being lost inside a dream that refuses to end.

sol radiates a warmth that pushes through the album. where earlier songs feel jagged and restless, this one glows with creation, like light pushing through cracks in stone. it’s a slow build luminous banger and one of the unlikely high points of the album.

i hope something good happens to you today is one of the rare rock tracks that feels like an act of kindness. it’s a little on the more direct side, and while the sharp riffs remain, the heart of the song lies in its title: unguarded, direct hope, turned into melody. and THAT guitar solo at the end has us coming back for more.

photographic reflexes snaps moments in bursts, riffs darting like flashes of light. it’s restless, quick, full of motion, over before you can even catch your breath. the track feels like trying to hold on to moments that refuse to stay still.

the closer, origins, stretches into deep time. at over nine minutes, it’s meditative, colossal, and endlessly patient. it feels like the first spark of life echoing across a vast void, not closing the record but almost opening it outward – a song that dissolves endings into possibilities.

ultraterrestrial is a record of dreams and liminal spaces. herman martinez hasn’t just written songs; he’s built a landscape you can step into, live inside, and get lost within. prog – in 2025 – never felt so good. we absolutely love it.

thank u for making this herman martinez 🌍