(In this post Austin Weber introduces our premiere of a song from the new EP by New York’s Pyrrhon.)
After last year’s outstanding album, The Mother Of Virtues, I had no expectation of hearing new music from Pyrrhon for a while. Yet here we are a year later and they’ve already churned out an impressive new EP called Growth Without End set to drop on June 2nd (both vinyl and digitally). We here at NCS felt it supremely fucking necessary to help spread the word about it, and now we offer up a disturbingly brilliant new track called “The Mass” to infect your earholes.
It’s probably best to take a deep breath before listening to “The Mass”, because it will immediately throw you into a deafening war zone of caustic and spastic riffing, schizoid vocal exorcisms, booming bass-lines, and bafflingly complex drum-work. Once it has thoroughly decimated you, the track unfolds into a slower mid-section replete with eerie grooves, taunting you in demented fashion, until it shifts back into the chaotic vortex with which it began.
Photo by Edward at Toilet Ov Hell — whose extended recent interview of Pyrrhon’s Doug Moore is here.
“The Mass” is truly a disturbing track, one that expertly showcases the multi-faceted nature of Pyrrhon’s disorienting and ugly music. If you’re ready to have your mind melted and your body involuntarily shiver in revulsion, click below. Just don’t say we didn’t warn you.
Growth Without End was recorded and mixed by Ryan Jones and mastered by Colin Marston. Caroline Harrison created the artwork and layout. It’s available for pre-order now on Bandcamp, where you can also listen to another song — check the link below.
We’ve included the lyrics for “The Mass” — which you should read — below the music player. Frontman Doug Moore has explained that “‘The Mass’ is basically a metaphor for living with a chronic mental illness”.
You were a child when you :irst felt it
The mass hiding inside you
Its silent, fibrous bulk within
Pressing itself into delicate tissues
And so you bore its weight
Your bones twisted around it
You ate until you retched
It grew harder to breathe
The string in your back frayed You put a good face on it
Fear cradled your soul in its palm
In the hours that bracket sleep
The doctors couldn’t find the mass
Their machines turned up nothing
But you knew it was there
You could feel it shifting
And so you gathered yourself each day
And carried the mass in silence
The anchor inside the quiet stoic
The spindle of strength that guides the unwinding
The heart of your truest self
The mass will abide inside you always
And will sink you by heartbeats in the end