Pylar - Límyte (Cavsas)
Swathed in robes of the Spanish occult, Pylar takes on the legacy of forebear Orthodox to channel incense-hazed reveries into wormholes that unfurl across the cosmos. Their latest trilogy of albums—Horror Cósmyco, Abysmos, and Límyte—gradually distills sludgy physicality, blackened guitar-noise, and the structural patterns of doom into desperate sounds facing an identity crisis, totally devoid of genre. Límyte, the final chapter, also shows earnest devotion to the avant-garde movement, both in its complete departure from riff-driven slow burners and in its Swans-esque fetish for grating noises. The latter greatly owes to the guest appearance of CG Santos (Teitanblood, Of Darkness, Emanation), whose modular synth experiments find such fertile ground on the record that I’m now thrilled at the mere idea of their wiper blade squeaks resurfacing in his other projects. In addition, listeners are treated to crisp and measured kick drum action much in the vein of Skáphe³, throbbing alongside dancing chords from jarringly clean guitars. As a result the terrors of atonality are presented without circumvention, distortion, or any factor of mitigation. Combine this with Bar-Gal’s nerve-racking feedback abuse and Lengua de Carpa’s miserable, Trosperian cries, and we are left with a purposefully inaccessible LP that only Pylar dared dream of.
Still, Límyte has its guile—its feverish noise does not deter repeated listens, but rather takes hold like an addictive substance. Its secret lies in the thoughtfully repetitive song-structures, captivating listeners into near-catatonic states from which time and space are absent. After the 18-minute closer still reaches an abrupt ending, listeners are left with a lingering sense of permanence. Whatever ritual this sorcerous pentangle has performed, it has succeeded.