Over to The Netherlands now to review an album and band for whom this website fundamentally exists – capturing the beauty and quality of classic new music.

The Sunday Goose were formed in 2009 by keyboardist Bram van Risp, recording an album by 2014, which, sadly, remained unreleased, the band breaking up. Come 2025/26, they have reconnected, and on 9th April, delight the progressive world with the physical release (with Dutch label, FREIA Music) of Where My Heart Lies, which is digitally available on Bandcamp now at https://thesundaygoose.bandcamp.com/album/where-my-heart-lies‍ ‍

van Risp is joined by the quite astounding voice of Ly, who also plays bass and Moog Taurus bass pedals; Marc Lamb on drums, percussion, and backing vocals; and Hans Gerritse on guitars, additional keyboards, and backing vocals.

The album is a deeply personal one, dealing with memories, loss, hitting those low points, but then rising, as humans invariably do.

At 71 minutes, it is a long work, but there is never a single moment when the listener’s attention is lost or wanders. It is, to these ears, a remarkable album and a true highlight of modern times.

So, twelve tracks plus a bonus at the end to pick through. First, let’s take a look at the teaser video.

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We open with the title track itself, which I think deals with reaching a very low point mentally, but allowing the earth in all its raw beauty, the wind, the sun, the river, to place its healing and loving hand over you. The album opens with the most delicate orchestration, itself a soothing balm, alongside a gorgeous guitar melody (my friend, Thomas The Prog Rogue rightly drew attention to the skill of Gerritse) which can be compared with the best you have heard. We wait just over two minutes to hear the voice which is capable of turning multiple heads in sheer wonderment. I will say it here now – Ly has one of those voices which make the heart ache with loving admiration – no comparisons to other female vocalists, because this is unique and lush. The band work so well together, the rhythm section bringing a sturdy foundation to the guitars, keys, and voice raining over them. The whole impact of this track is to melt the coldest of man, a song of love for a self which is hurting, but capable of healing, welcoming the cold wind bringing tears to the eyes. In fact, this beautiful creation brings tears to this reviewer’s eyes, and any song which beats it to my “song of 2026” award will need to be very special indeed. It is embedded for you to swoon to below.

I have recently published my own lifelong experiences with anxiety (see A Live Record – The Road to Fusion), and this song sums that up so well, waking in the morning, when the unseen voice takes hold, paralysing one with fear. It always leaves you, and you can move on to the bright dawn of a new day, but it leaves you exhausted, and certainly living a lie if it is not shared. Ly’s voice is pitched perfectly, a blend of the innocent and the struggle, the guitar accompanying it thoughtful, the bass melody cautious, some of the harmonies placing one in mind of The Carpenters back in the day. Listening to them with the bass guitar beneath leading to the delicately phrased piano solo playing with the agonised voice full of anxiety makes me recoil at the thought that this album might never have been heard by the wider public. The drum riffs heralding the sunrise is so striking. Genius – nothing more to say, really.

Time is allowing the senses to calm and allow time to work its calming magic. It is a surprise to hear some electronica as it opens, these detailing the smallest of particles, capable of travelling at the speed of light, and it is a stark contrast to what preceded it. As the track settles into its main passages, there is a sense of the grandiose fusion, but also a guitar piece clearly influenced by Hackett, and executed as capably as the master himself. It has some commercial sensibilities underpinning it, quite playful as well, with the final couple of minutes settling into a minimalist jazz pastoral delight, so quite a lot going on here.

Keep the Memories, reflecting upon childhood with one’s parents, dreaming of getting sick from smoking and drinking too much beer, wearing padded bras, and critically understanding those secrets of life beyond the ken of childhood. It opens with classic progressive rock, the guitars, mellotrons, gentle bass and percussion taking one back to Nursery Cryme – there is a flute in there as well behind Ly’s voice, which dramatically expresses the need to keep memories prompted by a locket, but move forward with life, the guitar weeping as it speaks of the pain.

Nostalgia is a short instrumental interlude, piano and guitar, leading into Oceans, mixing the majesty and healing power of nature with the disdain for those who are leading us into an age of brutality, arduous times indeed. It starts with the hubbub of life against the shore, the waves lapping against the beach, but this soon disappears as the self takes sole control contemplating the ocean, the keyboards expertly bringing a sense of serenity. The intensity builds, Ly’s voice increasing in decibel level, the synths swirling, the mellotron majestic, the rhythm section taking hold of the pace before halfway in, a halt is called and a lone piano takes charge with light accompaniment, the voice plaintive in asking for a halt to killing innocence, this heralding a guitar solo striking out against the sins of those who abuse our humanity, the emotion in voice, guitar and orchestration clear.

Out of Focus is a blues-infused instrumental delight, guitar humming with energy against the organ, the rhythm section redolent of smoky bars of the days of yore. It is embedded below to provide you with evidence of supreme musical dexterity.

Riverflow follows, a shorter instrumental again serving as an interlude, guitar and piano working together serenely, taking us into the concluding parts of this wonderful album, which begins with Two Hearts, a love song, pure and simple, she the object of many a desire, the man of her dreams brought in by a boat, they sharing life in an intense passion. Ly’s bass grooves are warm and welcoming on this, the background keys and guitars gently rising, the piano lovingly redolent of classic Banks, the vocals seductively drawing us into the story, synths uplifting as the love is realised. A lovely ballad.

Forever Young speaks of a loss, a brother who has passed forever young, and forever strong, but with a reminder that spring is the season where life reawakens and refreshes us after the long, dark, cold months, a period of renewal (of course, Easter when this review is being drafted, is, for Christians that time where new life from the old is miraculously realised in Christ). Thomas introduced this wonderful epic on my radio show last month, and his taste was impeccable, as you will hear when you listen to it embedded below. It is just shy of eleven minutes long, opening with some bright and breezy orchestration, the bass grooves luxurious, the guitar ghostly, the percussion perfectly pitched. Given the loss inherent here, you might have expected something full of doom and gloom, but the opposite is the case, the jazz at its core remembering with love and affection. Another day, another life, presaging six minutes of proggy goodness, the guitar so poignant, so urgent in its emotive language, the rest of the collective joining in the dance of life. A stunning musical creation.

Casting Shadows closes the album proper, the piano and guitar allowing us all to come down gently and recover from the emotion of a rollercoaster ride of an album.

The bonus track is My Town, a bright song.

Where My Heart Lies is a superb album. I adore it, and it deserves a place in every discerning music fan’s collection. I really do hope that the release of this debut does not prove to be the swansong as well.