Matthew Herbert One Pig

There are few things I like more than concept-heavy records and the creative use of samples. Unfortunately one of those things is bacon sandwiches, so One Pig, the latest from sometime Björk collaborator and fulltime electro-boffin Matthew Herbert, poses something of a dilemma. Composed almost entirely of the sounds made by a pig from birth up to (and after) its death, the album looks set to pit its artistry against my appetite. Which one will win? There's only one way to find out...

At first look, Herbert seems to have based an entire album around the first minute of the title track from The Smiths' Meat Is Murder, with both attempting to make statements about animal welfare by dropping field recordings of livestock into their music. Although, on the plus side (at least for slightly guilty meat-eaters like myself), at least he isn't going for the subtle-as-a-sledgehammer black-and-white outlook that Morrissey had about the issue. In the fairly extensive, and very interesting, liner notes, Herbert states that he doesn't view the album as a call for vegetarianism but rather an argument for a more ethical method of pig-farming. A fairly agreeable idea you might think, but that hasn't stopped the recording of One Pig causing a bit of a stink (which might have something to do with why it didn't come out last year as originally expected). If it wasn't PETA missing the point and declaring it to be some bit of piggy-snuff entertainment, Herbert had to go up against the farming industry to get the project off the ground, and even then found it somewhat compromised. Despite the air of death hanging all over the the album (February starts with the sound of sharpened knives) he wasn't allowed to record the actual moment of the pig's butchery (although the butcher does get a credit in the liner notes).

You'd be forgiven for thinking that it all sounds a bit dry really, and the opening track doesn't do much to assuage that opinion, consisting as it does of a lot of silence, then the grunting of pigs and a marimba playing somewhere in the distance. It's a long way away from the polished work of Herbert's previous albums in the One... series. After that, however, comes some sort of reassurance. The bouncy electro and terrifying roar that forms most of September is a genuinely quite brilliant combination, and also probably what a herd of elephants running amok in a nightclub would sound like.

At it's best the album reflects the eccentricities of British electronic music with, in particular, the influence of Aphex Twin being noticeable in several places, such as in the punch of December's very-Flaphead like beat. To bring in some more up to date references, the decaying loop of October could very easily fit in on Zomby's latest album (admittedly pretty much anything could fit on that as it was rather all over the place) and February even, probably inadvertently, sounds like Herbert's 'put a donk on it'. Although the best is saved for (almost) last, with the shifting, auto-tune whine of August 2010 recalling the expressive, melancholic use of the technology by artists like Burial. Even though the over-exaggerated sounds of eating that close the track come off a little hammy (sorry), it's both memorably unsettling and weirdly hummable.

It's notable that the album's strongest track is the one that doesn't feature a recording of the pig, as too often this acts as something of a stumbling block. Herbert's been using these techniques to make music for well over a decade, creating albums out of the noises created by household appliances or bodily functions, so it's not like he isn't capable of taking the pig's grunts and making something beautiful out of them. Instead he doesn't want you to forget the sacrifice the pig made for one second (again, this comes across better in the booklet, as much of it is filled with photos of the meals, artworks and even instruments that the carcass created) and it's a rather odd experience being hectored by an album where the only vocal track is the muted epilogue (which plays more as a wistful love letter to the pig than anything else). Perhaps it would have worked better if Herbert had tried harder to incorporate the pig more fully in the music, only occasionally revealing it in its naked form for more of a dramatic punch?

There are a few tracks on One Pig that are worthy of recommendation, its ideas and morals are impeccable and, even if they weren't, the controversy ensures that it's going to be listened to anyway (it's never going to have mass-market appeal, but it's a fair bet to say that it'll be the most listened-to of Herbert's albums). But as a whole it's just not particularly satisfying; the biggest effect the album seems destined to have is to make carnivores think twice about where the meat in their sandwich comes from (which is, of course, a good thing), and to depress vegetarians, but it's doubtful that many will find the urge to listen to it more than once. It might end up soundtracking a few gothic dinner parties although, personally, I'll stick with the bacon sandwiches, thanks very much.