Description

an infected journey through humid vine like enclosures and vicious leaf blades with a tangy serrated edge where one might observe a little too closely the multi-colored wandering spiders over oaks hanging and sucking the sharp edges of the razor, a sudden shine of reflected alumni light could perhaps enter the cornea at a dangerously precise interval pre-empting the reflex to shut your eyes. at last, crawling on hands and stone along a rocky and unstable footing – the enormous shale mouth opens and a gust of ancient steam – one letter at a time spells your name in front of you. the devil.

james light’s debut wounded son lp is of special note containing a fresh self-mutilated otherworldly vocal performance convincing the dying now alive and the living now damned of their doom.

where others are trapped into a rigid sense of mechanical predicted outcomes, james has captured something largely missing from a dark palette – psychedelic without any of the pretentious bs of ‘expanding one s mind’ but rather a very long small space to slip into with a forever out a reach horizon line with limited breaths.