The Cosmic Dead, Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs
Split 12''

The Cosmic Dead, or what lay behind so many splendid covers and that has always exhausted me so much, except for one immense record.

Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs, (mix), sgispiispggpiigpispgspisggsp, (mix), pppppppiiiiiiiigggggggsssssss, a stoner-sludge singularity I’ve been fond of for a while, a kind of rule that proves the exception.

In other words, forty minutes of split over two tracks, one per band (semi) obviously, where I was captured — almost — only during the pigs’ twenty minutes; and what a twenty minutes, few minutes and so intense, of hoarse voice chewing on mud over a sort of psychedelic punk, needing just six hundred seconds of leaps to morph into space rock with a loose chase to an undefined goal; the track urges on, dislodges, and melts to come to life in the most fluid moments.

And again, it's a shame with ‘these Cosmic Dead, I've always found them a bit verbose, yet they have everything it takes to be adored, perhaps one day I'll like them; who knows, maybe as some of the future wanes with old age.

Boh

Otherwise, the artwork helps, it’s unclear where the face is or where it's looking, but I can say the pigs represent a nice B-side, hence another easy recommendation.