Death Hilarious doesn’t play nice — it detonates expectations and drags you through glorious, feedback-soaked chaos with a grin on its face

There’s a strange, magnetic energy that surrounds Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs (mercifully shortened to Pigsx7). Their latest release, Death Hilarious, doesn’t just maintain their reputation—it obliterates any notion that they’re coasting. This record is bold, bludgeoning, and bizarre in all the right ways. I came into this album curious—intrigued by the noise, the name, the cultish chatter around them. What I found was a band operating at full creative tilt, unafraid to be absurd, heavy, playful, and completely unpredictable. Death Hilarious is a chaotic thrill ride—rooted in heavy rock traditions but gleefully swerving into punk, psych, sludge, and even rap territory. The opening track, Blockage, is a gut-punch of a beginning. It’s less of a song and more of a warning. Grinding riffs, a relentless pace, and frontman Matt Baty’s theatrical howl establish that this isn’t background music. It’s physical. It’s unrelenting. It’s impossible to ignore. It’s also a highlight—boasting a livewire intensity and the kind of hook that demands repeat listens.

From there, Detroit slows things down with swampy, sludged-out riffage that oozes attitude. It’s dense and dirty, but purposefully so—a gritty palate cleanser that gives the record breathing room without sacrificing its edge. Collider keeps the fuzz-drenched textures going but adds more shape and structure. There’s something here that recalls the experimental wanderings of Melvins, but Pigsx7 twist it into their own warped groove. Stitches, which some fans might recognize from its preview release, shifts into a more relaxed, hypnotic rhythm. It’s the kind of song you could get lost in—guitars spiraling around a steady, rolling beat. Then comes the curveball. Glib Tongued features a guest verse from El-P (of Run The Jewels fame), and it’s bound to split opinion. It’s a daring move, blending underground rap energy with the band’s molten noise rock. Whether it lands or not is up to the listener. For me, it was an interesting detour, though I found myself craving the raw vocal chaos that Baty brings when left to his own devices. But the band rebounds immediately with The Wyrm, a seven-minute monster that stretches out into spaced-out, psychedelic doom. It’s rich with tension and weirdness, never collapsing under its own weight. This is Pigsx7 at their most expansive—layered, slow-burning, and somehow still euphoric in its heaviness.

Carousel feels like a callback to earlier material—leaner, bluesier, but still loaded with teeth. Then Coyote Call tears the place up with a perfect mix of groove and grit. It’s short, sweet, and scarily effective. There’s a Sabbath swing to it that makes your neck move whether you want it to or not. Closing track Toecurler slows everything down again, but not before throwing a few final punches. It’s a hypnotic finale—strange, spaced-out, and heavy-lidded in its delivery. The subtle synths, off-kilter piano lines, and dragged-out pacing create a haze that’s oddly comforting. After the storm, this is the slow exhale. As a complete piece of work, Death Hilarious is a triumph. It doesn’t aim to please everyone—far from it—but in doing so, it feels thrillingly honest. Each track reveals a different side of the band, from feral aggression to stoned introspection, and somehow it all holds together with the glue of raw joy and conviction. Five albums deep, Pigsx7 aren’t slowing down. They’re sharpening their edges, getting weirder, louder, and more confident in their chaos. Death Hilarious is proof that great rock music still thrives in the cracks—loud, strange, and gloriously uncompromising. See them live if you get the chance. This isn’t just a band—it’s an eruption.