The latest album from Spanish doom metal band Pylar, Límyte, represents the final album in a three-album cycle. Preceded by Horror Cósmyco and Abysmos, Límyte truly sounds like a finale. A frequent complaint against doom metal is that for a genre with “doom” in the description, it’s not very scary. Pylar though make really solid, frightening doom metal. There’s a bit of relief listening to an album describing itself as occult doom metal that actually sounds like occult doom metal. It documents what must be an inevitable apocalypse. The listener must bear witness to the horror unleashed by this album.
Pylar opens the album with the title track which sounds like either the last struggle or the final spell that is a harbinger of the end. The beginning of the song is mostly chants and ominous synth sounds made to evoke howling winds before the guitar and drums come in at the two-minute mark. If this album is a narrative, then our point of view is the clean guitar work of Bar-Gai and the steady drums of Gameheo (everyone in the band goes by pseudonyms). Neither the guitar playing, or the drumming here is flashy or filled with technical virtuosity. Those clean guitar lines and rumbling drums guide listeners through the horror surrounding the guitar playing. More complex playing would distract from the shrieking violins, howls, and ambient noise prevalent. Making things even more ominous, the song cuts off at the end. There is no fade out and no clean ending. It’s as if to signal here’s where we abandon all hope.
After the bridging track “Aniquilación,” we get the 18 minute “Ruptura-afuera,” which translates to “Breakout.” The monsters have been unleashed. Here’s where Pylar get real heavy. Whatever spell was cast, it worked. There’s no hope for humanity. Everything they were in the opener is the opposite here. Bar-Gai’s guitars and Gameheo’s drums become the means of destruction. The guitar playing just erupts while the drums sound cataclysmic. The previously ominous synths, violins, and voices are now downright malevolent. This is 18 minutes of the universe collapsing and unraveling. That the song ends with everything surrendering to the void is really the only way this album could end.
Abandon all hope, ye who enter might be a fitting way to introduce Límyte to people, an album of conceptual finality. It’s the kind of album you blast at maximum volume to scare the neighbors and the elderly. Pylar have crafted one of the scariest doom albums in ages. Let’s hope it’s not their last.
— D. Morris
Límyte is available now on Cyclic Law. For more information on Pylar, visit Justin K. Broadrick’s Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram.
Nine Circles 