The Quietus review of Supersonic:
After Dalek's basstastic avant-rap rumblings complete with an invitation for Donald Trump to "suck my entire dick", it's time for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs to once more resurrect and remould The Spirit Of Sabbath with riff after riff after mother-effing riff. Each to their own, but it's bit of a shame that the merry moshers at the front aren't concentrating more on half-naked singer Matthew Baty's excellent stagecraft as he stomps and slinks around with bombastic authority. Baty makes a moving speech about having been in this very room during the festival's closing night back in 2018, headlined by Shirley Collins, and how he wept through the entirety of the folk legend's set. He is honoured to be performing in the same spot. But rock is what Pigs came here to do, and soon the riffs are flying out once more, assisted in the final leg by Gordon from Terminal Cheesecake.
Read the rest here: The Quietus
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Live Forever review of Deershed:
It wasn’t the weather but ill health that had forced Dublin post-rock mavens Fontaines D.C to withdraw, but cometh the hour, cometh Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs who, accompanied by another monsoon, rip into a noise wall assembled from their particular corner of Sabbath/Hawkwind/Stoner/Doom metal. Singer Matt Batty enters dressed in a cape, making you wonder whether he’s taking this thing a bit too seriously, but the show is headliner theatre from minute one, the band leaving no downtuned chord unbludgeoned in what is a jaw dropping spectacle of raw power.
Read the rest here: Live Forever
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