No Frills Reviews

A rapid-fire collection of chaotic and eclectic punk absurdity

As a cynical, miserable old twat, my instincts tell me to hate Perfect Chicken; a band with silly secret identities and stage uniforms, who communicate largely in poultry-based puns. But, in spite of myself, I have to admit that I sort of love them. The boiler-suited, balaclava’d Teeside trio have built a reputation locally over the past couple of years through the surrealist chaos of their live shows. It’s the kind of thing that often fails to translate to record; not boding particularly well for this debut album (or rather, mini-album; given its slight 15-minute runtime). Yet, Pecking Order manages to make perfect sense of their act, while simultaneously making no real sense at all.

Serving up their self-styled brand of ‘regressive rock’, most tracks clock in well short of two minutes as they dispense of any particular genre conventions for a barrage of stylistic shifts. The lo-fi garage punk of the opener quickly gives way to the ramshackle country lullaby of standout, Comet, which itself descends into a psychedelic freakout through the sheer intensity of its increasingly unhinged repetition. And on it goes; almost as though a different band turns up with each new track. Albeit, 90’s alt-rock seems to be a recurring touchstone; from their best Nirvana impression on Daily Rag, to hints of Pavement and Eels in the last couple of tracks. Perhaps the best encapsulation of their chaotic absurdity is the noise rock squall of Knight Knight, which sounds like Big Black as fronted by a disgruntled, medieval knight from Central Europe (seriously, this isn’t even bullshit music review hyperbole, it’s an accurate description).

The whole thing should probably be too messy and just too ridiculous to work, but that short runtime is a blessing, ensuring things don’t overstay their welcome and tip too far into wacky annoyingness. It’s kind of like the quick-fire, bizzaro comedy of Teeside compatriots Vic & Bob, re-imagined in the form of a punk band. But, I should point out that there’s also some straight-up catchy pop hooks on display and moments of unexpected melancholy (see Trauma). There’s something of the early Replacements here; behind their flippant, turbulent facade, you suspect there may well be a great band waiting to emerge.

I’m not gonna try to convince you that there’s great depths to be uncovered in the songwriting of Pecking Order (sample lyric – “pork scratching, I need your touch”). But the very existence of Perfect Chicken feels significant; their whole being seems to represent a rejection of modern times. It’s in that ‘regressive rock’ tag, and those surrealistic lyrics, but also in the crappy amateurism of their social media promos, or their regular support for somewhat unfashionable local venues. They embody a DIY, punk ethos that’s dying out in the age of grifting influencers, evil tech overlords, and impending doom. As they sing on Comet – “I’ve made my peace with it now, I’ll just get blown away” – they exist in spite of it all. An absurd band for absurd times.

Best tunes: Comet, Hog, Trauma

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