Pig Out

Pig Out - Club Poems
Pinacolada Records

5/5

Chow down - out of nowhere, New Zealand's finest live dancepunk band have made the best techno album to come out of this country, ever; not to mention the best local diorama of the politics of partying you're likely to see outside of hip-hop. Having built a reputation on the back of a monolithic live show that sacrifices both themselves and the crowd upon the altar of all-night dancing - I've got a live track of theirs longer than this entire album - Christchurch's Pig Out have exceeded themselves with their debut.

Both soundtrack to and document of the nightlife, Club Poems combines Screamadelica's best-night-of-your-life scope with Silent Shout's skewed subtlety; possessing both an instinctive grasp of the three Rs (repetition, repetition, repetition) and the DIY/fucking-around spirit needed to create explosions out of fairly basic building blocks. Giving off a raw, warehouse vibe reminiscent of 80s Detroit techno and the evil end of early Chicago house (Bam Bam, Fingers Inc, etcetera).

Pig Out are distinguished by Kit Lawrence's vocals - his sing-speaking freestyled lyrics evoke overheard babble, come-ons, threats, half-remembered hooks, homilies and nursery rhymes (a style last put to good use by the Happy Mondays' Shaun Ryder). Processed through reverb and delay, layered - or mimicking these effects in his delivery - he becomes disembodied; tugging at the edges of your awareness, he's a slang king smeared across the evening. Laughter, fey howls and snippets of conversation bubble up from the bedrock of 303 lines (both ACIIEED and otherwise) stacked upon themselves, an electric drumkit used alongside programmed rhythm, and a Korg that's tinkered with, taken apart and reprogrammed with an immaculate eye for detail.

Opening salvo MAZ treads the line between dystopic and ecstatic better than anything since the Streets' Blinded By The Lights, a lesson in the implications of losing yourself - lost in music, feels like a trap, no turning back - itchy acid needling above a rubbery bassline. Closest to their former live show is Disco Bag, a frisky bass-and-percussion workout that has the Shocking Pinks' Nick Harte providing a bassline harking back to his own Dance The Dance Electric. Face Rub is brisk bleep'n'bass with a rhythm somewhat akin to the schaffel beat created by someone cracking their knuckles, Kit goading lyrics playing with the truism of "music was better in his day/ always fuckin' was", while Too Good To Be True's moody electrohouse sees synth wizard Marie Celeste taking her first vocal turn on the album, processed as to leave a glitched-out trail of mirror images. Vocoder sketch Charmed Life, shortest track on the album, is more Hot Chip than Daft Punk, while White Boy appropriates a lyric from the Velvet Underground's Waiting For The Man and ramps up both the menace and the Alice-In-Wonderland promise. Kris Taylor's electronic percussion and Clare Noonan's wordless backing vocals build the track up until it's almost past bearing, and then it segues into the jittery fight-flight-or-fuck acid of V.I.P., Kit and Marie trading off vocals on a club banger scored for mechanical cicadas or car-alarms, Kit whispering "faith" just before the breakdown. Epic comedown closer Jules On X is unabashedly tender and dewy-eyed, synth strings ascending until Kit drops his guard to croon an almost Junior Boys-esque love song - "Hey boy at the end of the night/ Don't you know it will work out fine/ Hey girl at the edge of my world/ Don't you know that you look alright/ I could look in your eyes for the rest of my life/ But I don't think I could say goodbye/ And I could look at your lips for the rest of the year/ But I don't think I'll get to kiss you twice/ Kiss you twice..." And then you realise it's daylight, and it's time to head home to bed.

Stevie Kaye, Nov 06 for Real Groove Magazine
- Real Groove

Club Poems could quite easily be a lost product of the "Madchester" and Hacienda scene and wouldn't be out of place on Factory records during that labels heyday. Mid-period New Order and, especially early Happy Mondays are the obvious comparisons here, but rather than merely imitating, Pig Out sound like the real deal – old but not dated, home-recorded but not lo-fi. Club Poems is an infectious listen, with just enough old- school rave moments to transport the listener back to the early 90s and make these tired and weary old bones feel almost young again! This is a strong and assertive debut and one that is well recommended. - Smokecds.com

‘It's house music? But? What? Don't housewives do the vacuum cleaning to Nice n Urlich CDs? "Nobody Under 30 likes House music" didn't some young upstart publication proclaim? But. What? Didn't some of you just go to a Neon- Party? Oh - indie-rave or nu-rave is cool now? Glow-sticks! Yeah! Over-sized whistles! Yeah! What-the-fuck-ever!
Pig Out manage to get this so totally fucking bang on because they aren't pretending - this is genuine and it goes to illustrate perfectly, indie is not a fucking genre - it's an attitude. This IS indie-house. Nick Harte (Shocking Pinks) provides live bass licks that hit you dead centre when played at precisely the right volume. Marie and Kit produce a gloriously understated and sparse rhythm track and Kit streams Shaun Ryder-esque. Trust me I am old enough to appreciate where they are coming from - and this kicks as much serious ass as the original groundbreaking stuff from Chicago circa 1986-89.
- cheeseontoast.co.nz

‘A second local release scrapes into the top ten, and once again it does by simply being better than the competition. Club Poems shows that New Zealand’s isolation remains a key strength, and Pig Out’s natural fusing of various dormant genres sounds as fresh as anything being called The Future elsewhere.’ No 10 of top 50 albums for 2006. Voted for by staff writers. Real Groove Magazine, Dec 06 - Real Groove

‘This Christchurch trio serves a serotonin-enhancing blend of 80’s synth pop, British club culture and a subtle undercurrent of arty experimentation in the style of early house pioneers. The intelligent blend of basic, repetitive elements pasted together with a raw DIY vibrancy, deadpan vocals and ‘old school’ bent make this (Club Poems) one of the most surprising and refreshing electronica albums to come out of New Zealand this year.’ – Sunday Star Times, Nov 06 - Sunday Star Times

‘Pig Out are a combination of acid house, genuine mid 90’s techno and a smattering of poetry on the mic. Serious rhythms and great percussion. Do check them out live, they cannot be denied in the flesh’ - Rip It Up

‘Fuck yeah! Neon yellow, hot pink, lime green. Maracas, whistles, piñatas. I’m talking about Pig Out, the Manchester meets Christchurch project that has been stirring up dancefloors from south to north for the last year. Already renown for their indie-rave live shows – songs lasting up to half and hour, depending on the crowd – what’s captured here on their debut album isn’t anything you will have heard lately. Undeniable bleeps and beats repeat until you’re hooked, while Kit, Marie and friends wax lyrical about whatever comes to mind. Conservatives are bound to wonder what Pig Out think they’re doing in our neighbourhood, while young dance rebels will feel resurrected by these Technicolor housetechnoravebunnies with the special punk ingredient. Chicago, Detroit, Manchester….Christchurch? Fuck yeah! - Pavement Magazine

Remember that dance punk revolution we were promised? The House of Jealous Lovers, Me & Guiliani and Losing My Edge 12 inch singles seemed to herald a reunion of punk and disco; off-kilter dance music that would overcome indie music's body fear and compel the wallflowers onto the floor. Instead the last few crops of inbred haircut bands littering NME talked about Gang of Four and had their drummer jiggle the hi-hat - a sub Duran Duran nightmare.

But there are still bands out there fighting band-wagon jumping and pigeonholing. Could anyone have predicted Christchurch's Pig Out? Marie Celeste, Kit Lawrence and Fraser Austin recombine the kraut-funk of Happy Mondays and The Fall with the test tones of Sheffield bleep'n'bass, the primal urgency of Factory bands Section 25 and A Certain Ratio and the rough repetitive synth lines of early Chicago house.

Formed at a serendipitous gig at Dux De Lux in March, Celeste and Lawrence already played together in austere post-hardcore outfit House Of Dolls. Fraser's involvement only eventuated on the day, with early material telepathically improvised live on stage.

Over a functional 4/4 drum machine throb, Austin's looping bass lines and Celeste's motorik synths weave a hypnotic pulse both reinforced and punctured by Lawrence's vocals. These are a patchwork of overheard phrases, half remembered songs, quirky exhortations to the crowd, running commentary on their mutating music and inspired couplets. Tricky, alert and vaguely menacing, Lawrence's delivery belongs to the tradition of Mancunian singing/speaking avant-yobs like Mark E. Smith and Shaun Ryder. Free of an instrument he's able to roam among the crowd and distribute tambourines, cowbells and maracas to augment the percussion and involve the audience in the music-making process.

Pig Out's tendency to play in dark rooms with flashing lights helps dissolve the audience/performer barrier into a sea of gyrating bodies. "Give it up for all the people who've been standing next to you, sweating! You love it, man! You fuck'n love it! They're your partners in crime!" Lawrence yells at the end of the live version of Big Wow.

Planning to record an album in Christchurch very soon, Pig Out have an urgency and hunger hitherto unknown to these shores. "We're called Pig Out and we've come to do your brain in," promises Lawrence, with his mop of purple hair. It's about time. - Pavement Magazine