Pigs. That’s seven. If I was a creative individual, I would write this as if it was a boxing match because Pigs x7 wore boxing shorts in celebration of their 5 studio albums. They also had a really big sound on stage, as if they were an announcer announcing the year’s biggest boxing match.
But I’m very much not a creative individual, so I won’t. I’ll instead regale you with how The Paranoyds and Pigs x7 were super Britishy even though only one of those groups was actually British and the other was The Paranoyds.
What even is Britishy? Britishy is mullets, of which there were more than normally expected at the Bluebird; dirty and grungy guitar lines, of which there were many from both Paranoyds and Pigs x7; and the band staying on stage and the audience in the crowd, where everyone belongs, but then yelling at each other from those spaces, of which happened the entire night. I’m guessing it’s because Brits are proper, or some shit like that.
This was super that. The hairstyles made you think of London. The crunchy guitar lines made you think of Newcastle. The politeness despite the rowdiness of both the bands and audience made you think of Ipswitch for some reason. And the largeness made me think of Brighton, but that’s only because I’ve visited the nude beach there.
Big dick jokes aside, if it was a boxing match, Pigs definitely won. It’s an odd experience, with such a polite and big sound, but isn’t that why you go to shows? To experience an experience? And to feel like you’re back in London even if you’re in Buttfuck Colorado?
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