In classic albums like Where No Life Dwells, those bangers were held in reserve and unleashed sparingly. You’ll find that Pyre puts more stock in the heavy mid-paced stomp than Dismember or Unleashed did.
That breakneck-but-systematic deviation is one of many illustrations of Pyre’s deathgrip on songwriting and exactly the kind of thing that manages to keep a worn out, 20 year-old style interesting in Human Hecatomb. In Human Hecatomb, riffs interact with coherence, solos are right where they belong, and smart pacing keeps the listener engaged all the way through.Īlbum opener “Merciless Disease” kicks things off with a sloppy bass drive, eventually joined by a Martin Van Drunen-inspired growl and an appropriately Asphyx-ish groove, which sticks around just long enough to wear out its welcome before a quick transition takes us to higher speeds. Believe it or not, songwriting is important in death metal, and if you’re willing to learn, Pyre can teach you what you need to know. Though hailing from Saint Petersburg, Russia, they’ve clearly made their pilgrimage to Sweden to worship at the shrine of the Boss HM-2, and their guitars have been endowed with the power of the buzzsaw tone originated by Nihilist and later Entombed.īut - and pay attention here OSDM revival bands - nailing your guitar tone isn’t all it takes to make a good album. Pyre opt for stomping the ever-loving shit out of the ancient path, now unfortunately less traveled, in both production and style.
PYRE NOTHING MORE FREE
It’s determined to free you from the sparkling, soullessly overproduced trash stacking up around you every day. The guys in Pyre are cut from the same never-washed cloth, and their debut full-length, Human Hecatomb, is an ode to nasty. How often do we take pride in the fact that adjectives like “filthy” and “repulsive” translate to the highest compliments in our music reviews? How often do we complain about production being too polished or too clean? We’re pigs. We too have an affinity for what others find foul and repellent. Why?īecause that pig wasn’t just a pig, dudes.
How could this creature enjoy rolling back and forth in refuse and eating entire troughs of unidentified slop? He was nothing more than an abject insult to all things they considered decent. I felt a connection with the pig, even while surrounded by the frightened gasps of children and parents disgusted by his unprecedented filthiness. He would snort in delight, I would snort back in solidarity. I’d give him a corncob, and he’d eat it happily, but only after thrusting it to the bottom of a two-foot deep pit of mud.
PYRE NOTHING MORE PATCH
I met an absurdly large pig while visiting a local pumpkin patch a few days ago, and we developed something of a bond over the course of the ten minutes I spent watching him be gross.
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