Review Summary: The epitome of an acquired taste record
Filth Pig is an ugly, misshapen abomination. The overall sound is directionless and the production sees the unbalanced instrumentation plagued with tinny, abrasive tones. The songwriting is a series of droning exercises that skirt the line between hypnotic and incoherent. Ministry was always an unstable band, but this was where the wheels came off like a car crash in slow motion.
You love to see it.
There may have a couple hints of this album’s style on a song or two before it, but we’re still worlds away from Psalm 69. The hard-driving beats and rave metal energy of the last couple efforts have been largely phased out and any remaining industrial elements are mostly seen in the layers of grimy distortion and mechanical rhythms. The pacing is decidedly more lethargic with greater emphasis placed on slow riffs and oppressive tempos. Comparisons could be made to groups like Godflesh and Melvins (just listen to the “Night Goat” rhythm on the title track) but it always maintains a unique flavor.
The imperfections in the production and musicianship also do a lot to give this album character. The rhythms are still a focal point and often have the songs tipped in their favor between the booming drums and punchy bass. The vocals also end up compelling even when buried in the mix, giving bandleader Al Jourgensen’s rambles and shouts an even more disjointed outlook.
As tricky as it can be to decipher the songwriting at times, there are a lot of strong tracks. Once the back and forth noise rock of the two-minute “Reload” sorts itself out, the title track and “Lava” descend into doomy sludge with catchy rhythms and disorienting vocals. “Dead Guy” and “Game Show” come close to wearing thin but ultimately offer their own power, the former riding an infectious beatdown chug with almost rapped lines while the latter dwells in the darkest textures with an especially grinding offbeat plod. The cover of Bob Dylan’s “Lay Lady Lay” is also a cool addition; its more laid back and melodic presentation can risk feeling out of place, but that persistent bassline and wistfully somber mood are good fits.
Overall, Filth Pig is the epitome of an acquired taste record. It’s a hard album to love whose moods vary between drug-induced disinterest and seeming to antagonize anybody who expected a Psalm 69 repeat, yet those elements are what make it so interesting. It’s not the best Ministry album by any means but it might be their most unique. As much as I’d love to hear more bands going for this hodgepodge of industrial stoner-sludge, it could never be fully replicated.
