In many ways, this is the Chicken Korma of doom metal albums. That's to say, if you want to know how Indian (really, Bangladeshi) cuisine swept all before it in the UK, you have the really mild dishes to thank.
Oh, there will always be a place for the anus-flaying glory of the Vindaloo, or the mild napalm tang of a good Jalfreezi. But the mild, wimp-out options, like your Butter Chickens, Pasandas, and, indeed, Kormas, gave the blander, more timid parts of the British palate a fighting chance.
Which brings us, naturally, to the new album by Geordie doom/psych rock quintet, Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs. (Or Pigs7, as they will be referred to from now on in this review, because RSI ain't my bag.) "Viscerals", with its knowingly kitsch, luridly yucky cover art, is doom metal, but for the ironic craft beer crowd.
Which is to say, it's smoothed down, housetrained and not too underground or - ack! - metal. It has the rebellious air of wearing a novelty C*NT t-shirt, as you and the other creatives go out on the piss in Hoxton or Camden Town.
The game was sort of given away when I first heard them. It was tea time on BBC Radio 6, and the second track off "Viscerals", Rubbernecker, had just played right after Bloc Party. Oh, the misery, drone and crushing riffs were there, along with the heavy, thick sound.
But it was restrained and accessible, something self-styled 'cool' mainstream music fans can listen to, because there's no way in hell they would ever be able to stomach any Conan, Acid Bath, Burning Witch, Iron Monkey, Sun 0)))... Pigs7, by contrast, are about as underground as the Wombles.
So, is this a shit album? On the contrary, no. But punters need to know that while this is a 'proper' doom metal album, it is one that's shocking in its calculated mildness.
And yet. Its hooks are focused, effective and memorable. Its song writing and arrangements are precise. The bellowing, rough croon of the vocals go well with the music, and evoke happier times, when alt rock was still a credible mainstream option.
It's true, contemporary doom metal, but after a shave, a haircut, a good scrubbing, and a crash course in table manners. It sounds rough and abrasive to someone who's never heard anything rough, or abrasive.
But let's be devil's advocate here, amongst other faintly condescending clichés. It's doom. It's on the radio. It's got hype building around it. And it's a gateway to the really heavy stuff. And so "Viscerals" may yet prove to be the means of spicing up many a bland-o's record collection.
I still prefer a Rogan Josh, mind you.
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