Review Summary: In London, Marx joked: That’s a matter of course: the first time’s a tragedy, the second’s a farce
If there is any humor in Pyrrhon’s music, it only expresses itself through cruelty. A jeering undertone pervades their angular brand of progressive death metal that delights in irony and schadenfreude; one needn’t look any further than their name for an example. Pyrrhonism, a skeptical philosophy pioneered by the Ancient Greek Pyrrhos, argues that major problems of Philosophy (such as the liar paradox, free will, and the existence of the external world, if you want to do some homework) are intelligible and significant yet likewise unsolvable. While the Greek Pyrrhonists thought that suspending judgment in the face of these unsolvable issues would bring the upright philosopher to a state of lucid tranquility, or what the Greeks called Ataraxia, modern Pyrrhonists, such as Benson Mates, are far more pessimistic. Instead, he holds that engaging in skeptical argumentation can only end in a state of unsatisfying perplexity. If you’ve heard Pyrrhon’s early work, then you already know that when they assailed the intelligible and significant question of “Can you still make original death metal in the 2010s?” that, similarly, the only result was unsatisfying perplexity. Sophomore effort
The Mother of Virtues laid the groundwork for the violent, flailing magnum opus,
What Passes for Survival, an album so unfathomably heavy that Pyrrhon simply abandoned the questions provoking unsatisfying perplexity when they followed it with 2020’s
Abscess Time. This isn’t to discount
Abscess Time however; where
What Passes For Survival lashed out with the unpredictable ferocity of a cornered dog,
Abscess Time squirmed like a dying animal in throes. Instead of trying to replicate, much less outdo, the ferocity
What Passes For Survival, Pyrrhon were content to process the pandemic by flexing their compositional strengths and vocalist Doug Moore’s flaming political consciousness, beginning the album with the longest songs to mimic the robust and steady breathing of a living creature and slowly choking it out with an increasingly frenetic tracklist. The three mentioned releases are all modern death metal classics that stand head and shoulder above all but the most exceptional peers, which only means Pyrrhon’s fifth album,
Exhaust, arrived with supercharged expectations. Dropped out of nowhere free of promo on September 6th, 2024, it is the shortest and most straightforward Pyrrhon album yet, progressing the noise rock influences of
Abscess Time into ten immediate and snappy songs. Unlike its priors,
Exhaust is vibrant, accessible and alive – a trait that opens up Pyrrhon’s music at the expense of some aspects of their identity.
First things first:
Exhaust is a good album. Hell, it's really damn good. Every song belongs in the tracklist and every member is pulling their weight. The transition from pure technical dissodeath f
uckery into death metal with noise rock/mathcore tendencies has relied heavily on Erik Malave’s bass playing and his low end provides the necessary backbone for guitarist Dylan DiLella to dissonantly skronk all over his guitar. Frankly, DiLella’s playing is some of the most original and engaging I’ve ever heard, and if it weren’t for Steve Schwegler’s
phenomenal drumming I would probably focus most of this review on him. The quality of the riffing is as high as ever, but with an added emphasis on catchiness and bounce. Undeniable highlight “Strange Pains” is perhaps the most accessible song the band has ever written, with shouty, hammer-off verses that makes me want to wiggle and heavy as f
uck breakdowns to close it ou… wait… breakdowns? Uhm… hmm... well, it's still good, so we'll just carry on. Elsewhere, opener “Not Going To Mars” nearly falls off its hinges as DiLella’s playing takes on more of a mathcore flavor and Schwegler’s drumming passes escape velocity; only Malave’s bass seems to keep the song from taking off and becoming the first manned mission to Mars. Speaking of Schwegler —
wow. In a year where metalheads have already been blessed by Jamie Saint Merat, it seems ridiculous to suggest he could be topped, but Schwegler does it. His drumming is utterly unhinged, defying the mechanical precision of his peers to girder the music with unpredictable tension and a mammothian lurch. His drumming defines Pyrrhon, and the band wisely showcases his talents by making his mightiest performance, “Out Of Gas”, the fulcrum the rest of the tracklist rests on. The lone moment of reprieve on the album (besides some sections in “Luck Of The Draw” and “Last Gasp”), “Out Of Gas” is Pyrrhon’s most reserved and creeping song since “Tennessee” — a necessity for an album that mostly just goes and goes.
Strange enough, I found
Exhaust a tad more exhausting than Pyrrhon’s previous releases, if only for its stylistic monotony. Where
What Passes For Survival would lash out with an almost instinctive ferocity (nothing here is as spurious or tenacious as “The Invisible Hand Holds A Whip” or “The Unraveling”) and
Abscess Time carried itself with an unseemly vision and confidence,
Exhaust is Pyrrhon-by-the-numbers; a lean, trimmed-down version of the band that takes all of their qualities and expedites them. There was always a fascination with mathcore and noise rock beneath Pyrrhon’s music, but
Exhaust revels in these qualities, to a point where continuing to label Pyrrhon as death metal undersells their sound.
Exhaust is skronky and infectious and grooves harder than any metalcore release I’ve heard this year, yet so much of Pyrrhon’s identity remains in the presentation that it never feels like selling out. For example, the Gojira-esque lurch of “Stress Fractures”' chorus was downright disorienting on first listen, yet I cannot deny the seismic weight of that track and the necessity for such a chorus after the skronktacular bridge. Upon hearing
Exhaust the first time, I felt a mild twinge of disappointment that Pyrrhon had eschewed their experimental past for a more straightforward collection of songs, but the more time I have spent with it the less I am able to care. If anything, I wish they would push these ideas further; a few more songs like “Out Of Gas” could have taken this release up yet another level. It's strange to talk about a band that has already accomplished as much as Pyrrhon stumbling upon new potential, but
Exhaust undeniably holds it.
While Pyrrhon willingly tapped into more “mainstream” inspirations with
Exhaust, I must reiterate that the elements that remain are still unequivocally Pyrrhon. Doug Moore’s sardonic vocals effortlessly interlace with Schwegler’s drumming and Malave’s bass, and, even if recognizably similar to other bands such as Today Is The Day and Cattle Decapitation, the group’s chemistry is so undeniable that it feels endlessly fresh. I’ve waxed on long enough about why, but Doug Moore’s contributions deserve a brief spotlight too. Death metal rarely admits a vocalist as dynamic as Doug Moore; he can do all the traditional stuff your favorite growlers can, but he adds in a noise rock yelp that lets his voice occupy more ground than the genre usually allows. Even rarer is his lyrical prowess. Asking recklessly and only finding unsatisfying perplexity seems to be the ontological state of Doug Moore’s soul; his lyricism fearlessly tackles the existential threat of climate change, poverty, and addiction with the openness and soul twisting conviction of someone violently devoted to change yet forced into a 9-5 job. It is nearly impossible to overstate the weight and salience of lyrics such as “It’s Sherman not hanging enough landed citizens, so at last, Lost Cause hour can come ‘round again” and “It always hurts and no one’s impressed, but pain always bows to stubbornness”, but if the transition into “friendlier” music can bring the most intelligent and erudite lyricist in metal to a wider audience, then let them play mathcore. It certainly seems that, after years of unsatisfying perplexity from asking the difficult questions, Pyrrhon have finally found a way to ask the difficult questions and find Ataraxia. Despite Doug Moore’s nihilistic lyrics and the sheer violence of the music beneath
Exhaust, Pyrrhon have released a death metal album that is really goddamn fun. If this is Pyrrhon’s direction for the future, go get your bag fellas and headline Wacken 2032 or some equivalent. You’ve earned it.
