Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs' current single, Glib Tongued, is a remarkable piece of art. A collision of sludge metal and glacial hip-hop, it's a dark, cautionary tale about the dangers of getting nostalgic for 'good old days' that never existed, its opening lyrics - "The silhouette of a flag / The murmuring of some national anthem" - evoking sickening memories of last summer's far-right, anti-immigration riots in England, before Run The Jewels rapper El-P takes the mic to spit bars referencing brutal acts of racial violence in America ("Notice that flag attached to pickup you've been dragged behind") that have yet to be consigned to history. It's hard to imagine any other band in the world creating such a striking song.
If the remaining eight tracks on Death Hilarious, the Newcastle quintet's fifth album, lean more closely to what one might expect to hear from a stoner/doom/psych rock band, they're no less excellent for it. Formed in 2012 as a side project for members of bleak North-East noise crew Khünnt and mind-frazzling freakazoids Blown Out, the quintet - vocalist Matt Baty, guitarists Sam Grant and Adam Sykes, bassist Johnny Hedley and drummer Ewan Mackenzie - have evolved into one of Britain's very best heavy bands, smart, socially aware, unpretentious and blessed with the most crushing riff arsenal this side of spiritual forefathers Black Sabbath.
It's high time you were introduced, so Louder sat down with Matt Baty for a trip into a world where Pigs can, and do, fly.
Let's start with an obvious first question: you've got El-P from Run The Jewels on your current single Glib Tongued: How the fuck did you pull that off?
"How the fuck did we pull that off? [Laughs]. Well, Johnny came to our rehearsal space with those riffs, and I think originally he expected it to be a very different song, because the riffs are quite sludgy and gnarly, and I imagine he thought we'd all pile on top of it, and make it this ferocious thing. But Ewan started playing this tight drum beat around it, with a really nice groove, and Sam and Adam were making these ambient guitar sounds, and there was lots of space in the music for me, vocally.
"As a vocalist, I'm very aware what lane I'm in, and dare I say I do what I do quite well, but if I was to try to attempt much else, I could quite easily ruin a song! So as we were listening back to the demo, I said to Johnny, Hear me out, I think there's room here for an MC to do something interesting. So then we did what I imagine any band would do in that situation, and drew up a wish list, and as Run The Jewels are one of my favourite bands - every album for me is a 10 out of 10 - El-P was at the top of that list. Long story short, a friend had an email for him, we sent over the demo, and he got back to us saying, 'This is heavy as fuck, let's do this.' Hearing his voice over something we'd written is unbelievable, completely mind blowing."
I read that you really struggled with anxiety when it came to writing lyrics for the new songs. Do you want to talk about that?
"Yeah, I had a few personal things going on over the course of the past 18 months. A friend of got diagnosed with cancer completely out of the blue, and he was also my boss as well, so there was a transitional period where he handed the business over to myself and a couple of other people. All of a sudden, on top of dealing with the news of his cancer on an emotional level, there was also this stressful, pragmatic thing happening as well, where we were like, John needs to focus on himself and his family and his health now, and not on mentoring us running the business.
"That situation was quite fertile ground for anxious thoughts to creep in. The imposter syndrome in me has always been fairly prominent, and all of a sudden I was running a business, and constantly questioning if I could do it, or if I would fuck it up. And if I fucked it up, then how would John feel about that? So there was a lot of that questioning going on in my work life, and it started to bleed into other areas, the band being one of those areas .
"This is the only band I've ever done vocals in - since the age of 16 I've played drums - and when we started Pigs, it did take a little bit of time for me to get used to being at the front of the stage, facing people, and expressing myself in a much different way. With each progression of the band, in terms of developing a wider audience, I become more and more aware of people taking note of what I'm singing, and that's a really flattering thing, and it's really beautiful. Not to have delusions of grandeur, but it does feel important when people are taking something from your words. So on every album, I always have this internal battle, and this time it felt really fucking strong. It's horrible how infectious these thought processes can be. And then you're aware of the clock ticking as well, which was pouring more fuel on this this fire.
"But then I started thinking, Why are you in a band and making music anyway? It's to find ways of expressing yourself outside your day to day life, which I'm not very good at: that's why I gravitated to being in bands, because it kind of opened this door of expression that I I felt was inaccessible to me. And I was like, just use that, just fucking give that negative voice in your head the keys to express itself. So that flipped the table a little bit on those thought processes, and it felt like I I was suddenly in control, rather than having these crazy chaotic thoughts in my head that were controlling what I was capable of. And that finally was the breakthrough I needed."
When I was 14 I saw Korn's video for Blind on MTV2. It blew my mind. I was like, Wow, this is properly exciting!
Matt Baty
You mentioned that you got into bands in your mid-teens: were you always a metal kid?
"Yeah, pretty much. I grew up in Richmond, Yorkshire, and went to a really small school, so there wasn't a lot of people who were into alternative culture. So, when I was 14, and saw Korn's video for Blind on MTV2, it just blew my mind. I was like Wow! This is properly exciting! Johnny from Pigs went to the same school, and he also saw Korn's Blind video, and maybe Slipknot on TFI Friday, and as I was already learning to play drums, I was like, You should learn how to play bass! So all of a sudden then it was like, great, I've got someone to play music with and someone tom talk about music to. The first proper gig we ever went to was Fear Factory at Newcastle Uni, supported by Godflesh, when we were about 16."
Did you two get get picked on for being the 'weird' kids?
"No, not really. With our school being so small, everyone knew each other anyway. And I've always got on well with most people from most walks of life, so that was never really an issue. I think the big thing for me, when I started to develop an interest in rock and metal, was that I definitely felt like a black sheep. It felt a bit embarrassing to say to people, Have you heard this band Slipknot? Or, have you heard this band Nirvana? when nobody else knew what I was talking about. Plus our school, was a Catholic school, and they hardly promote individuality: my God, do they enjoy keeping everyone uniform! So it felt a bit taboo. Most people would just listen to what I was listening to, and laugh at it: they'd say, 'That's not music!' then walk off listening to S Club 7 or some shit."
There were only a certain amount of people in Newcastle who'd be receptive to going to see Filthy Turd play in The Chillingham Arms
When you moved to Newcastle, did the city have much of a rock scene?
"Well, when I first moved to Newcastle properly I was 18, 19, and around that time I discovered Southern Lord as a label and that opened the door for me in terms of realising what the landscape was for for heavy music. I'd had quite a narrow vision of what heavy metal was, but then, like, hearing Sunn O))) was a real breakthrough moment: it was the heaviest thing I'd ever heard, but also quite beautiful.
"In Newcastle at the time there was quite a fertile, healthy scene of left-field heavy bands. There was one band in particular called Marzuraan, I saw them play in [legendary Newcastle rock club] Trillians and they absolutely blew my mind. And then through going to their shows, I discovered other bands: one called Jazzfinger, who did really quite out there experimental noisy stuff, another called Bong, Obviously these scenes were quite niche - there were only a certain amount of people in Newcastle who'd be receptive to going to see Filthy Turd play in The Chillingham Arms and I was one of those people - so you quickly meet like-minded people.
What give you the balls to actually front this band rather than hiding behind a drum kit again?
"You know what? I don't know. At the very start me, Sam and Johnny were super excited about the psych rock scenes and the noise rock scenes happening across the UK and and Europe, and Johnny started putting on shows in Newcastle, booking bands like Gnod, and Part Chimp, Luminous Bodies and Shit And Shine. And we thought, We wanna be fucking part of this. That was our only idea really, to be part of this interesting travelling circus. Then we thought we'd maybe get a few drummers, or just have people come in and out, and do more collaborative things. Originally, before we played any gigs, I was drumming, but then we asked Ewan to join, and Ewan's a phenomenal drummer, so I was like, Well, maybe I don't need to play drums, maybe I could do something else. I started running my vocals through loads of delays and reverbs, all very soundscapey, and that was the early framework of Pigs. I guess over time we've just kind of just constantly refined and condensed what we've been doing till we're at this point."
How often do you regret that band name?
"[Laughs] Not any more, I absolutely love it now. It's funny, we did a couple of gigs and I remember Ewan saying in the car driving back, 'Are we completely sure about this band name?' And we were all like, Yes. of course we are! Honestly, at the time, we had no aspirations other than to go out and tour and meet interesting people and have a good time. And I think that that's still the mission today.
"I remember a radio plugger got in touch, saying, 'Would you be interested in in my services, I might be able to help you get some radio play', and I was like, there is just no fucking way, any self respecting BBC presenter is ever gonna read this band name out on the radio, But some of them did. Like Mary Anne Hobbs, she had her 6Music daytime show. and she took took to us very early on. When I was getting into rock and metal music, studying for my GCSEs, I used to record her presenting the Rock Show on Radio 1, so to have her support this 15 or 20 years later was remarkable, that was amazing to me. So, no, I've never regretted the band name.
"But our company is a music publishing company, and when we have new releases to promote, I send them out to different contacts. We have Pigs on the roster, and I remember that when our second album [2018's King Of Cowards] was coming out, I sent that out. I never tell people that I'm in the band - if they take interest in the music, then I'll tell them - but somebody replied then and said, 'I love the music that you send through, but there is absolutely no way I'm gonna listen to that band with that stupid name.' I thought, well, this is an appropriate time for me to reply and say, I'm actually in this band and, wow, his climb down was amazing." [Laughs]
Let's talk lyrics for a moment. You seem like a nice man, but Detroit - sample lyric: I witnessed your escape. Everyone leaves, you're all the same - is a really nasty-sounding song.
"It's a bloody horrible song. And actually, as we were writing the album, one thing that was freaking me out was thinking, Shit, people are going to realise that this isn't me, this is definitely a character, right?
"Sonically that song's pretty gnarly, abasive and aggressive and lyrically it's not an easy subject matter. I know so many people - some of them close family members, some of them close friends - who've had really, really awful experiences, and male patterns of behaviour seem to be at the core of a lot of them. It's got to a point now where it feels like these aren't uncommon experiences. And it's remarkable when you start to see how the legal framework around these situations, which should be there to safeguard and protect people, how lacking they are. And then I realised, well of course they fucking are, this is legislation that has all been written up and drafted by men, of course t's not fit for purpose. I'm well aware that I'm a man, and therefore I have it easy in a societal sense - I don't have to feel particularly frightened walking outside in the dark - and I don't want to be taking voices away from people that these issues do directly affect, but I do see and hear these experiences so much, that I think highlighting them in a song can't be a bad thing."
If you can go to a show and forget about whatever shit you've got going on in your life for an hour, that's such a a wonderful thing
Songs can be cathartic and help people through dark times, as we so often hear from people who love heavier music. If your words can connect in that way, is that a source of pride?
"Yeah, absolutely. People have told me all kinds of personal stories about how particular songs or particular lyrics have helped them out, and that is humbling and very moving. But also people don't have to tell me that, I can see it from the stage. Early doors I'd sing with my back to the audience, but as I started feeing comfortable and confident enough to face people, I was like, Oh shit, like, look at these faces, everyone's here to have a great time, nobody's here to see me fuck up, or the band fuck up. everyone wants to have an amazing time together. You can look into people's eyes and connect in a really beautiful way, and that means the world to me. If you can go to a show and forget about whatever shit you've got going on in your life for an hour, that's such a a wonderful thing. To me, that's the most beautiful thing about music, and if you can reach that consistently, you're doing all right."
