Released March 14, 2025.

The third act of the Vaxis saga and Coheed’s eleventh album, “The Father of Make Believe” dives deeper into “The Amory Wars” mythos, but this time, the most intense battles might be internal. Beneath the sci-fi architecture lies a deeply human narrative: loss, identity, illusion, and the relationships that either save us or undo us.

“Yesterday’s Lost”

The album opens with a whisper of heartbreak:

“But should you go before me, I’ll be right behind you.”

It’s not just romance, it’s loyalty shadowed by death. In the narrative, this is Nostrand’s vow to Nia, but it doubles as Claudio’s meditation on mortality and family. A quiet promise that love doesn’t end with life.

“Goodbye, Sunshine”

“I won’t stay mad; we played our parts.”

This is closure without bitterness. A eulogy for what once was, not clung to, not blamed, just released. The band turns loss into liberation.

“Searching for Tomorrow”

“You dance between the true and false / To salvage something, but you learn that you lost it all.”

Musically reminiscent of “In Keeping Secrets Of Silent Earth”, this track explores the illusions we create to survive, until reality breaks through. It’s the sound of waking up too late, discovering solitude was always your only constant.

“The Father of Make Believe”

A masterclass in accessible prog, complex in arrangement, yet melodically inviting.

“I’m the vision that you choose to see… I’m the Father of Make Believe.”

Here, myth and memory blur. The titular Father isn’t a man, he’s an archetype, shaped by need. A projection born from longing, trauma, or manipulation.

He could be Vaxis’s absent savior, a stand-in for authority, or a coping mechanism. He isn’t real, but he’s believed in. That’s what gives him power.

“Meri of Mercy”

A love song in elegy’s clothing.

“When all goes dark / And I can’t see / All my memories lost / I’ll know you’re always with me.”

Meri may be Vaxis’s last tether to clarity, a symbol of what’s worth holding onto when identity disintegrates. This track reclaims connection as sacred in a world built on illusion.

“Blind Side Sonny”

Pop-rock melodies meet gritty distortion, a wolf in candy coating.

This track channels the fury through mob-chant catharsis. Not about justice. About revenge.

“Play the Poet”

“Different language, the words you can’t seem to say…”

This song captures the tragedy of miscommunication, the loop of trying, failing, and eventually giving up.

The poet becomes a performer yelling into a void.

Within the Vaxis story, it may reflect Vaxis losing someone to ideology or despair.

Words fail. The silence wins.

“One Last Miracle”

“A fortune sold on television / Where our truth’s coming from, so damaged beyond recognition.”

A searing critique of media, faith, and false salvation. Hope has been commodified. Truth is no longer broken, it’s unrecognizable. The line between belief and delusion collapses. Still, people keep buying miracles.

“Corner My Confidence”

“You stole the sun / Caught in the flare, we were amateurs…”

This one aches with the pain of failed revolution or broken love. The speaker doesn’t give up, they corner their confidence.

This could be the turning point for Vaxis: forging strength from scars and aligning with those who still believe.

A quiet rebellion begins.

“Someone Who Can”

A shimmering, nostalgic feel, Don Henley vibes via post-apocalyptic heartbreak.

“When the lines of the road vanish in your tracks…”

Abandonment is no longer dramatic, it’s quiet, total. And yet, out of that emptiness comes a demand: for light, for love, for fire. This is rebirth through ruin.

“The Continuum I: Welcome to Forever, Mr. Nobody”

“I plead / Is it so hard to see / A better version of me?”

Shame and stagnation tighten like a noose. The protagonist isn’t begging for forgiveness, just to be seen as more than their past.

In the Vaxis arc, this may be the psychological low point: identity in crisis, hope a fading memory.

“The Continuum II: The Flood”

“Where I once loved / Now pumps cold blood…”

This is post-emotion. Where once was fire, now there’s frost. The flood has wiped the slate, or tried to. A survival mechanism turned into exile from feeling.

“The Continuum III: Tethered Together”

“We’ll all sing together / Tethered forever…”

The emotional payoff. After trauma and betrayal, comes harmony, not as fantasy, but as chosen solidarity. This could be the rebel choir. The fractured finally uniting. It’s the album’s true heartbeat.

“The Continuum IV: So It Goes”

“Please, somebody open this lock / My mind is breaking apart…”

The final collapse, or the final confession. The speaker begs for release from the cage of their own mind. Whether this is Vaxis or someone else, it’s a moment where the veil between internal and external horror is paper-thin.

We’re left not with closure, but a question:

Can the light escape the dark?

“Vaxis III” is more than a concept album. It’s a study in duality, illusion vs reality, connection vs fracture, myth vs memory. And while it expands the “Amory Wars” universe, it also holds a mirror to our own: asking how we survive when the truths we built our lives on collapse.

It’s not just a story, it’s a reckoning.

P.S.

I initially held off on writing this review, hoping to dive deeper once the deluxe edition arrived, particularly to expand on the narrative elements through the included story materials. But after several delays, I decided the album itself deserved its own reflection. The review is, shaped by the lyrics, the music, and the emotional arc they deliver to me on their own terms.