A new band, debut album straight out on Century Media. When you realise that Predatory Void are part of that artistic Belgian collective The Church Of Ra, it all makes sense. Borne out of pandemic downtime Lennart Bossu of Amenra and Oathbreaker started twiddling with some new ideas that did not quite fit in with any of his other projects and no doubt decided “what the hell” and gathered like-minded folk together to form a new one. Hence Predatory Void with members from other established acts such as Cross Bearer, Amenra, Doodseskader, Carnation and Cobra The Impaled were conceived.
Naturally coming from where they did in time and due to the fact that things were far from rosy, these seven tracks (or keys) unlock rather grim doors to reality and with those involved not restricted by genre flow all over the place. Thick doomy licks submerge in misery as we are bowed down to ‘Grovel’ before the extremity is unleashed. Vocals are harrowing and along with the now death-laden gravity it’s all rather uncomfortable listening. Lina R who is responsible for all vocals here has a blood-curdling snarl and totally enforces the discontent at all the world’s ills. There are low rupturing growls added to things and the players drop from speed to sombre acoustic guitar melodies at the drop of a pin allowing the singer to cast a wan and depressive clean and solemn air over her parts. Track titles like ‘*(struggling..)’ tell the tale, torture and distress pouring out the spaces until the clean parts in the vocals add a beseeching voice searching for comfort amidst the hostile loneliness of abandonment and enforced enclosure.
There’s plenty of misery here and it is quite relatable to all who endured and felt that an ‘Endless Return to the Kingdom of Sleep’ was the best way to ride out this new era of existence. Blackened sludgy tumult and sluggish doom make perfect bedfellows and are enough to have anyone remembering the time that their best friend was a duvet to hide beneath until the lucid dreaming ruptures any comfort blanket and the cycle starts again. Naturally there is beauty within the folds. Lina’s clean dulcet tones are as gorgeous as her more extreme ones are distressing. The gentle caress of ‘Seeds Of Frustration’ provide a few moments of comfort before the virulent chainsaw riff and scream of ‘The Well Within’ cruelly swipe it all away.
This is not an immediate album for those wanting to soak up both music and theme. There’s quite a lot going on and despite the compact ¾ of an hour running time, just as you thought you had survived the assault course and come out the other side unscathed there’s the nine-minute ‘Funerary Vision’ to remind of all those laid to rest over the epidemic. Perhaps we all just want to move on and forget this stage of frustration but the after-effects of it all are the cold reality and along with grim musical bastards like Predatory Void it’s all near impossible to shrug off. One thing is certain, just one listen will prove that they have achieved what they set out to do and for those who can endure it have created a real downer of a listening experience.
(8/10 Pete Woods)
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