Review Summary: Charismatic but also aloof, the key asset of "Predatory Light" is its conflicted nature.
Predatory Light’s eponymous debut shouldn’t really stand out when you analyse it on paper: it’s a
somewhat melodic,
somewhat clean,
somewhat sinister affair that doesn’t seem too bothered in filling any particular niche. It just leans on its idiosyncrasies from beginning to end, by which time you’re raring to go again with baited breath. This doesn’t come as a surprise, to be fair; black metal’s greatest exhibits all have something ineffable about them, not least of which is guitarist Kyle Morgan’s work in Ash Borer. However, don’t make the mistake of conflating the two projects, because they’re still miles apart, stylistically. Instead of using his instrument to create a mournful blizzard of sound, Kyle opts for sporadic lapses into insanity here. Scarcely apparent at first, the record’s unbalanced character only begins to dawn on you once you think you’re properly acquainted with it, leaving you on edge should our subject snap at a moment’s notice.
Songs like “Lurid Hand” and “Divine Membrane” feature anomalous, tumbling melodies with very little in the way of resolve, acting as omens for something potentially malevolent. The former is particularly fond of one lead motif, repeating it liberally so as to throw the listener off and making the song’s overall vibe nearly impossible to read. By comparison, “Laughing Wound” and “Path of Unbeing” are relatively buoyant, “fun” little cuts that cast aside the tense atmosphere of the aforementioned tracks. Not only that, but they actually compel you to move as if listening to an old school heavy metal banger, even if they’re a little far removed from that in terms of presentation. Nevertheless, it’s hard to shrug the idea that something is just “off” about it, as it seems
Predatory Light is one of multiple personalities, with no guarantee that one is any more stable than another. One minute it will throw its fists in the air, horns extended, shouting and laughing as if it’s your estranged comrade from god-knows-how-far-back, the next it will be glaring at you from afar, mute and with a twitch in its eye. It’s uncomfortable, but certainly laden with character.
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