TAKAAT – Amidinin: TRACK OF THE MONTH

PIGSx7 LIVE IN MANCHESTER, HEAVY FOLK FROM SHEFFIELD, BLAZING POWER-TRIO ROCK FROM NIGER AND MORE

When you step into Manchester’s New Century Hall for a Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs gig on a Friday night, your first thought is:

Marc Riley must be in here somewhere.

Didn’t see him, but he was there – confirmed it when the band were in session on his 6 Music radio show three days later. Tucked away at the back for ear protection. Nice.

Non-sightings of Mr Riley aside, what can you expect from Pigsx7 live?

Oversized doomy bouncing howling slamming ear-ringing max volume euphorics with pink shorts and a workout vest, that’s what. If you’ve seen them before, you’ll know the score with Matt Baty’s onstage kit – it’s a self deprecating pop at the genre’s aggro-macho hardman vibes, shot through with ritualistic stage moves summoning some sort of communion with the heaviness gods. Launching the set with a shamanically extended The Wyrm (I think) and signing off with shit-kicking tarmac tribute A66, it’s a good-times ruckus start to end.

With short mid-tempo tracks like Detroit and The Glitch getting plenty of exposure ahead of Death Hilarious being released, it’s easy to forget the wrecking-ball breakdowns in Pigs’ music and it’s these slow dooming slams that really leap out live. Caught me off guard a bit – it’s been a while – but in the best way. Other highlights include a non-competitive Headbanger of the Night award, plenty of anti-Download patter (it’s a Venga Boys thing) and the perma-seismic bass of John-Michael Joseph Hedley.

Walking back down Oldham Street around 10.45pm, there were loads of people sitting in a line on the pavement. What in the name of cold arse cheeks is going on?

Queue for Record Store Day 2025. At Piccadilly Records. The night before…

Did you go RSD-ing? Was it worth it? Having moved to a town where there is no record shop, that Piccadilly Records queue was the nearest I got to any RSD action.

Slight fomo at that point. Still haven’t written up last year’s RSD find, which is a shame because it’s fckn ace. Even better, it was a CD. Cop for that, vinyl fetishists.

Just before we hit some killer new sounds, can we once again praise the Melvins and their now pathological consistency? After Tarantula Heart formed a stalwart noise rock trilogy of excellence in 2024 alongside Jesus Lizard and Shellac, they’ve only gone and put another one out already – well, Melvins 1983 have. Done it in the same month, too: April. Having squeezed a couple of listens of Thunderball so far, the first impressions are more than promising – a twisted, heavy Melvins 1983 shorn of the jokes that thinned the quality of Working With God. They play Sheffield in August. Cannot wait.

Right then, off we go with some single track highlights.

JIM GHEDI – Sheaf & Feld

David Eugene Edwards plopped onto the radar recently with a project with Al Cisneros, which is uncanny and timely because there’s a 16 Horsepower air to this dense, metallic, ensemble folk shanty by Sheffield’s Jim Ghedi. With its one-two swing, Sheaf & Feld is built for movement and group action – a communal, earthy hymn to keep spirits high while bodies battle or toil. And it’s a bit like this Archie Bronson Outfit cracker from 2006.

TAKAAT – Amidinin

Immediate Mdou Moctar vibes come flying off this unpolished electrified attack. When you find out that Takaat is in fact everybody in Mdou Moctar’s band who isn’t called Mdou Moctar, it’s so obvious. The energy is up, like Funeral for Justice, the triple-time rat-tat rhythm – check those deft beats by Souleymane Ibrahim – drives hard with no time to catch breath and the guitars are saturated with distortion. Amidinin is very much a live-action jam. Scintillating stuff.

THE OTOLITH – Glimmer

When Myrkur goes full blend between blackened metal and ethereal Scandinavian folk, it’s a killer combination for reasons you can’t always place. It just works. Glimmer by The Otolith gifts us a similar genre-blending deal that feels so organic you wonder why it’s not the norm. With sea-siren vocals and viola symphonics, it’s a seductive, enchanting trip that soon becomes darkened by brief but transformative visitations from Riff Lord and Hell Voice, aka the post-metal deathly sludge bit. Hauntingly beautiful and brutish, Glimmer beguiles and intoxicates.

MCLUSKY – People Person

Confession: despite knowing the name, this is the first mclusky music I have ever heard. But if their early noughties heyday was anything like People Person then shame on me for missing it – and thank Ipecac for spreading the word because this simmer-to-boiling-point fist fight is right up the piss-damp alley of anyone with a bent for slab rock physicality, predatory bass and caustic wordage. Ipecac is a good home. Want to see office workers lose their shit and beat each other with keyboards? Watch mclusky’s People Person video.

FUCKED UP – Disabuse

Dropping all notion of melodic hookery or progressive art-punk structures, Disabuse sees Fucked Up channel their name more literally to throw up a cathartic hardcore speed assault. Save it for when you need … a cathartic hardcore speed assault. To bang your head to. Blowtorch rock, check it here.

’til next time!

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The monthly music rewind

MUSIC FOR CAT & FIDDLE 4: Michael Chapman

MICHAEL CHAPMAN – 50

Driving under fog – or so it seems. Cloud skims the roof of the car until the incline takes us up and at it. Into the milk.

The soundtrack to this journey through trapped daylight is Sometimes You Just Drive by Michael Chapman. With its loose, locomotive rhythm and pedal steel tints, it echoes the wide open American west … by way of long, deep Yorkshire roots.

Chapman was 75 or 76 when he released 50. Backed by a bunch of younger players from the folk/roots/experimental scene, Steve Gunn among them, it’s a vital, honest sounding album. The voice might be weighted by mortality but the finger-picking remains ageless.

Let’s not pretend that I know anything about Michael Chapman, though. This album was my first encounter, followed by True North – the last album he recorded – and Americana. So, there’s quarry-loads of Chapman yet to mine but since first hearing 50, it’s become a winter fixture. Memphis in Winter shows why – and it’s not just for the title.

“We’re past the end of nowhere, all along the worn-out plain
Where the devil lies in waiting
And it gets too dark to rain.
It gets too dark to rain.”

If we submit to music’s potential for seasonal and environmental appropriation (which is pretty much the point of these Cat & Fiddle posts) then the busker’s stomp of a beat in Memphis takes on a quickening air, like it’s trying to outrun a biting chill. Electric guitar, sliding in late with frayed distortion and lived-in experience, delivers the flickering licks of much needed heat.

And that’s where we’re going to leave 50. The loping lilt of The Prospector and the electrifying flourishes over Rosh Pina‘s hypnotic picking are among the many riches, but this isn’t meant to be a review. Instead, it’s an association, an evocation of a sound and a spirit that lives up to the surroundings – which, on this drive, look something like this:

Michael Chapman: moor reflections

Cue it up while it’s still cold.

Note:
Ryley Walker played Sheffield a few days ago at the Sidney & Matilda. Solo set, wholly acoustic, stunning as you’d expect. He mentioned Michael Chapman. Said Chapman liked this song of his, which he then played. Think it was The Roundabout. Don’t quote me, but do go check Ryley if you haven’t already.

More music for Cat and Fiddle