What Does Doom Metal and Being Disabled Have in Common?

In a world obsessed with speed, and fast paced music.
Newcastle’s doom/psych band, Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs slows everything down — and for many disabled people (myself included), that feels incredibly validating.

Mainstream music often moves at a neck breaking pace: too loud, too fast.
It can be quite overwhelming, when your brain just doesn’t work that way.
As someone who’s autistic, I know what it’s like to hit sensory overload just trying to keep up.

I was lucky enough to experience THE absolute wonders first hand.

the five piece performED their fifth album, 'Death Hilarious' last April - this is for sure my favourite album released by the band.
..But then again I say that every time.

Death Hilarious gives you time to actually feel the sound, rather than being slammed by a wall of mainstream noise.

Death Hilarious IS music that moves at our pace.
In a way, it can feel like a form of self-regulation — grounding, and calming.

It reminds us disabled folk that we don’t need to speed up to be valuable. 

My favourite tracks from the album, hands down, are ‘Detroit’ and ‘toecurler’.

‘Detroit’ hits hard with that gritty, almost ear-piercing energy— and the statement from frontman Baty, “It’s not my fault you’re so depressed,” really stuck with me.
It captures that messy mix of burnout, social media overload, and really weird creative limbo a lot of creatives are in right now.
I think a lot of people can relate to that feeling.

Then there’s ‘toecurler’— My favourite track. I’ve always loved it, but I didn’t really think about why until I went back and actually listened to the lyrics again.
That moment where Baty delivers, “I-try-a-avoide-attention. Like-a-good-boy-should. Still-Mister-Doppelganger.” just hit differently this time.

It made me reflect more on the idea of creative standstill—and how isolating it can be, especially when you’re in your own hometown. It’s a strange shift when people start treating you like they know you, just because they know of you.
Suddenly everyone’s saying your name, but there’s no real connection.
It’s like you’re being observed, not understood.

That feeling splits you in two, creating this sort of “doppelgänger effect”—there’s the real you, and then the version of you that people have made up in their heads. That weird mix of fear, paranoia, and honesty comes through in Sykes' guitar tones and Baty’s intense vocals.`

Working in the music industry, you’re constantly around people who might see your success as something to feed off of.
As a live music promoter, I’ve definitely felt that a lot.
You’re always surrounded by people, yet feel completely alone.

But it’s not all dark.
There’s actually something really comforting about hearing these themes coming from the  local doom five-piece. 

At least it reminds you that you’re not the only one who feels this way.