He doesn’t believe in Jesus, but three grams of mushrooms make him feel a few things. Pigbaby’s EP »Palindromes« came out of nowhere in 2022. There was something captivating about the deeply tired mix of lo-fi indie, pub spoken word and art school collageism. Definitely not in the sense of spreading euphoria, but in the sense of accompanying a freefall. »Palindromes« was perfect in the way that only débuts can be perfect. It felt like the artist had said exactly what he wanted to say with the right poignancy and style, that the expressive source must have been completely exhausted afterwards. It felt like Pigbaby was the EP and the EP was Pigbaby—and that would be enough forever.
But now there is a full-length album. »Something here isn’t right« were its first words. One track is called »Crying in Burger King«. The sadness, the weariness, the hopelessness have something timeless about them on »I don’t care if anyone listens to this shit once you do«. Something real, if you like. The expression is not a signalling, this depression is not TikTokable. It’s the depression of a person who takes the bus, who works, who sits at tables. The lyrics and music excude ordinariness, a self-aware subjectivity—and therefore a smallness that feels like home in a world of great coherence and grand statements. A haunting conclusion to an album that is constantly about suicide. »Raw« is probably the word that best explains its special appeal. There is no reverb on the vocals. The recordings are unedited, the lyrics naturalistic, without glorification or eloquence, just direct inner states, framed by a city that has lost itself and yet remains an alternative. Pigbaby remains perfect. The Mike Skinner of the 2020s. 10/10. Album of the year.
