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Pig Irön: IV

Album Review

Temperamental, authentic blues rock from the Thames swamps

On first listen, it might surprise you to find that Pig Irön look like four blokes you might hire to help you move house. Or collect money with menaces. Coming straight out of Kingston-Upon-Thames, that well known South London enclave of smoky bars and roughly hewn bluesmen, Pig Irön sound, remarkably, like the real deal.

Their harmonica playing has a swampy, original feel, their tone’s gritty and they can conjure up images of endless highways populated by bike gangs cutting in slo-mo through the Midwest with admirable ease. Think Sons Of Anarchy without all the spousal abuse and people driving their motorcycles into each other. 

At times – Carve Your Name, Low Grade Man – it’s deft Southern rock (imagine the Black Crowes if they came from Streatham, and that’s a compliment), at others – the relentless Horseshoes & Hand Grenades, the emphatic Bootlace Noose – they sound like a fist landing. They can even sound considered in The Curse Of An Aching Heart. You can imagine them at the end of the bar now, a rueful shake of the head, another drink drunk.

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