also available as cassette (ltd.ed. 100 copies)
joint release with Sphingidae
Sudaria opens up the gates of (un)reality to unveil the true shapes behind the mirror of the illusory self; 9 mantras to break the illusion, 9 keys to open the holographic seals of Maya.
«Following in somnambulism the invertebrate steps of a primary Art. Drowned into the ascetic syncretism of silence and noise. The pulse of necro-mechanical cannibalism. Rising beyond Catharsis in ransfiguration; devouring the corpse of the illusory self. 9 Keys to the Gate; 9 mantras to break the holographic seals of Maya. Dressed with the shrouds of Malediction. The Immortal Binary Clock.»
Samples on «Ghastly Eaves» from Arvo Pärt’s Missa Syllabica
—All Musick and artwork by Miguel Souto, MMXVI.
released February 20, 2017
In a binary existence, the idea of quantum suicide can be engaged in order to convince us of our own immortality – we exist only in a world in which we haven’t died. All other universes, however, contain a rotting corpse that looks uncannily similar to ourselves. Unfortunately, not all life and death scenarios are quite so black and white and it is this nagging knowledge that could have led Miguel Souto to protect himself with these nine sonic mantras.
The Syncretic Labyrinth is a dark, contemplative and often hellish joint release from the German Attenuation Circuit and Spanish Sphingidae labels. Ghostly winds and strained, shrieking guitars set the tone on opening track Veils of the Syncretic Maya before a low drone edges in, paving the way for a frightening chugging as if feral pistons were rampaging through rain-drizzled streets. Kapala then pours its gloopy way into the skull of its audience. A thick, blackened bass rumble squeezes into your cranial space as unrelenting, reverb-chained, metallic thuds pound out in the approaching distance. Voices gasp in reverse like a solemn message escaping from the Black Lodge before being replaced by a pained guitar painting the aural landscape. This shifts from solitary notes to driving chords, whipping up a growing sense of tireless toiling – the slog of existence peppered with a glimmering light through wretched gloom.
The labyrinthine cacophony (of which Borges would be proud) that Sudaria has formed sidles easily from tormented industrial clangs, through leaden techno for sleepwalkers, and into a stained dark ambience via the tectonic-plate-bothering plod of some inconceivable colossus. A gentle sea of consciousness is sporadically cleft apart by softly comforting snippets of travelling trams, trains, and trucks, grounding this in the gritty present. A bluster slips by. Lofty ideas can be born in these waters but heads must stay out of clouds. A melancholy piano desperately collapses and Arvo Pärt’s choral chants lie under a canopy of drones. These paranoid yet hypnotic soundscapes give the final moments of this record an ethereal and phantasmagorical quality.