We talk a lot about live being disrupted because we lived through a half-decade of tumult, and this country is, yet again, in the strangulating throes of evil. But pain didn’t just begin with a pandemic. For many people, the blood and tears have been flowing for much longer, and the trail toward recovery is rockier.
We haven’t heard from Canadian sludge power Pyres since 2013, a whole lifetime ago, it seems. Think how much the world has changed since then, and not always for the better (actually usually not for the better). The band—vocalist/guitarist Andrew Wilson, guitarist Marc Delparte, bassist Devin LaMere, drummer Aleks Hara—arrived with “Year of Sleep” 12 years ago, and then things went horribly off the rails. Wilson’s sister was lost to a murder/suicide, and then his father passed away. Real-life shit. The band continued to play, and then the pandemic hit, the lineup shuffled, and all the trauma hit home. Luckily for the band, and us, they regrouped and created “Yun,” a record that helps Wilson and the group parse through loss, pain, grief, and frustration and shows Pyres completely reborn. It’s a record that gets more powerful each listen and could connect with people suffering through the similar circumstances.
“Mononeurvosa” opens slowly, guitars coming to life, swinging through gravelly growls and sludgy smoke. The guitars then ramp up and torch, throaty howls pounding away, clean, yet gritty singing lashing, the grime building before blasting out. “Some, Not All, Came Back” has guitars snaking through strange tributaries, the singing pushing into melodic, yet abrasive waves. Riffs sweep, and a Southern rock feel emerges, the playing growing more spacious, your mind tingling in your skull, a ridig burst embracing burly corners. “A Depth Charge in a Dead Sea” runs 12:59, and it begins solemnly, meandering through dreamy calm, softer singing emerging before getting thornier. Howls explode as the pace continues to grow, atmospheric sludge draining over everything, the vocals stretching and battering, guitars gaining intensity. Then we’re back to serene waters, the guitars soaring slowly like light beams through thick clouds, an emotional gaze basking in sun-splashed waves.
“Granular Flow” has drums splattering and the guitars coming to life, giving off a High on Fire feel. Abrasive singing meets with swaggering guitars, soloing erupting and blazing harder, a throaty chorus landing blows before a smashing finish. “Nova Cruciatus” has the drums rousing, guitars creating smoke pillars, and a barnstorming force taking hold. The playing chugs and leans into shimmery passages, group singing makes blood rush, and molten energy spits chaos. “Lineage” has strong riffs and roaring singing, Wilson wailing, “Break this bloodline, break the chains.” The pace keeps getting faster and more volatile, laying waste and choking your lungs with soot. Closer “Old Dogs” pulls back a bit, feeling clean and reflective, though the singing is tougher, Wilson insisting, “Tears won’t bring them home.” Bass plods as the guitars gush emotion, melting into a fog that soothes your mind. The playing gets burlier as a tidal wave of emotions crash, the drums ignite, and everything lifts deep into outer space.
“Yun” is both a bloodletting and an exercise in catharsis, with Pyres pouring every ounce of themselves into this record. It’s been a long time coming, this album, and so much has happened since we last heard from this band, it would be easy to understand if it went off the rails and meandered. Yet they found restraint and ways to express this into a nicely served record that’s impactful, doomy as hell, and gushing with power and strength.
For more on the band, go here: https://pyres.bandcamp.com/
To buy the album, go here: https://hypaethralrecords.com/collections/pyres
For more on the label, go here: https://hypaethralrecords.com/
Meat Mead Metal 