Gnodlike majesty - IN SEARCH OF SPACE #181

So what exactly is music? This extremely rare music I froth about most weeks that is probably heard by a handful of people. Does it change the world? Is that what I’m doing here? We live in hope. You know what it is, the only thing it is, the only thing that counts? It’s fucking cool. Spiritual carbs, jolly woo-woo wah-wah for the anima; a synthesis of the self, by someone else. A lens through which we briefly glimpse our own being indescribably. It’s also fucking cool. You know what’s cool this week? Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs (that’d be seven ‘Pigs’ kiddies. Bands, what can I say?). Pigs7 are dropping a split with blog faves the Kosmiche Tot, I haven’t been able to hear the full thing yet but Pigs7' part is pretty sweet.

Pigs7 is groovy. A short sharp wah-wah shock. Twenty minutes in the collective unconscious. Karl Jung would hear Pigs7 and quite like it. Wand Erection or any of their arsehole fans would hear it and get hit by proper existential terror. It’s God big. Be thinking Gnod grooviness, injected with just enough of that Hey Colossus Hot Grave noise (if you haven’t heard that song yet, fix that). Part of the whole yoo-hoo rumble running through underground music in the UK outside of the southern urban sprawls. Maybe the last barnstorming low-level kickback against marketing strangulation and industry prostitution. A bunch of motionless heavyweights cranking out music influenced by the B level or C level bands; Hairy Chapter and Culpeper’s Orchard. Making hairy-chested mountain music full of hollers, whoops and haw-haw. Atavistic shit spreading from basement grates in the back streets of less reputable parts of town. It’s impossible to tell the tide of the war from the middle of the battle so I don’t even try. What I do know is that Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs is just so much sound and fury, but it’s soul-enriching and ultimately, cool.

Written under duress by Steven.

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