A Constant Visual Feast

As a general guidelines, slow-paced rock and metal tends to lose me after a very short window of time. While writing this post, I couldn’t really drum up a good reason why that is; I just know that it is. Exceptions vary. Sleep, for instance, works for me, other than the fact that Matt Pike is sort of a looney toon and now my issue with his projects is, y’know, him*.

Anyways. That’s to say Pigs x7, because I refuse to type a septet of porcine references over and over, has that special sauce, and also El-P, whose work is a fundamental pillar for my musical growth over the years. Sometimes it helps not to read track names too closely, else I’d have known he had a verse on one of Death Hilarious‘ entries and thus would have been robbed of the surprise of hearing his voice materialize out of nowhere.

It’s a small part of the album, but for me it cuts right to the level of ingenuity and personality that makes Pigs x7 such a satisfying sludge rock outfit. And with that, I give you: my review, for Paste Magazine.

*His obsession with David Icke gives me, as the kids say, the ick.