Lux Occulta
My Guardian Anger

"My Guardian Anger" by Lux Occulta could very well be compared to "Eternal" by Samael: it is an important but unsatisfying turning point that will lead to the development and maturation of a new musical direction for the band.

The CD in question is indeed the predecessor of "The Mother and the Enemy," that excellent work that highlights Lux's incredible and perverse capacity for innovation; a predecessor, however, that does not live up to their genius: in fact, it consists of several ideas developed somewhat superficially and in a dispersive way, to the point that it sometimes feels immature while in others even lacking any originality.

If one wants to experiment, it is necessary to do so in the right direction; otherwise, one risks disorienting the listener too much and diverting their attention from the CD player. Experimentation must know how to engage, intrigue, and especially surprise; My Guardian Anger manages to cause 45 yawns, precisely and punctually one per minute.

Eight songs that have all the air of trying to mimic a very complicated genre such as Avant-Garde Metal but unfailingly spill into a common Symphonic Black Metal characterized by weak "Proto Avant-Garde" shades. Of course, not everything is to be thrown away; there are interesting ideas that, as I have already mentioned, anticipate the real maturation, for example, the introductory track "The Heresiarch" is not bad at all and features interesting and intriguing keyboard riffs while the guitars provide decent support, occasionally allowing themselves a rather engaging solo. "Nude Sophia" is the highlight of the album probably because it is the track that pushes furthest; just listen to the first minute characterized by a mysterious and obsessive melody, then exploding into sharp guitars accompanied by a growl/scream that is somewhat forced for my tastes but certainly acceptable. Worth noting are the multiple interventions by the gentle and seductive voice of a singer (unknown to me), which makes the structure of the song even more original. Another episode that barely manages to stand out is "Library on Fire", which only has to thank the constant presence of keyboards for keeping these seven minutes at a sufficient level.

Too bad that the defective episodes are double those that are decent. Most of the time, the situation worsens due to the production, in my opinion, too "cold" and mechanical, and by the excessive presence of synth/keyboards: "Kiss my Sword" is an example, all the instruments seem to condense too much, giving the idea of a song composed with a ton of molasses; it is a monotonous track, and it seems to want to suffocate itself. We find a couple of instrumental interludes of just one minute ("Cube"; "Triangle"), cute but anonymous, while on the other hand, there are two songs of a good 9 minutes each that only weigh the album down mortally ("The Opening of 11th Sephirah"; "Mane - Tekel - Fares"); I challenge anyone not to yawn less than twenty times, I think I have never heard more empty songs thrown together (forgive the colloquial expression) just to push the CD's duration over thirty minutes. Especially the first is a fatal filler for the rating, and throughout its exhausting length, we find disconnected and vague tunes, absolutely superficial and insufficient.

I won't waste much more and will try to close here; overall, I gift two stars for the few highlights, while I take away one star for the production, the second for the dangerously soporific monotony, the third just for that hateful "The Opening..." Lux would have done better to remove all the dead points and deliver a short but decent EP rather than create a filler album for their excellent discography which, for now, concluded with the excellent "The Mother and the Enemy."