As the buzzard flies, the old Ministry compound was about 50 miles outside of
Austin, Texas. After years in the urban hub-bub of Chicago, Al Jourgensen and Paul Barker (Ministry founding
fathers) felt it was time to seek out newer, quieter pastures of creativity. Thus "the compound," a bunch of
buildings scattered up and around a hillside that used to be a whorehouse for the "big business" of Oil.
They started bringing all their spaghetti and jacks and crap and plugging them up and all over the damn place.
Spaghetti junction achieved, everyone started writing and recording and re-writing and re-recording before
things started to turn weird. A haunted house? With the history Al and Paul knew about (as well as the history
they didn't), many's the time they felt ghosts in the Jacuzzi room and heard blood red bedrooms whooping and
hollering at night. Al cheerily confessed to blasting big fat holes in the walls in his bedroom with his 12-gauge
shotgun, trying to kill spiders the size of fists which crawled lazily up and down in steady trickles.
All the time back there in spaghetti junction, Paul was slicing up wires and jacks left and right to make
microphones work and get tracks done. But even Paul's handyman approach couldn't eliminate crushing
technical problems which often resulted in two-week delays. Two weeks of stir-crazy. Two weeks where Al
would drift off and away frustrated and Paul would try to find solutions, just as frustrated.
When long time drummer Bill Rieflin quit, good old Texan boy Rey Washam (he was in Scratch Acid and Rape
Man amongst other bands) came on into the seat, was astounded and somewhat intimidated by the working
ways of Ministry, but quickly settled down to produce a series of performances that have anchored him as the
Ministry skinsman.
Everyone took a break from the technical nightmares during January '95, heading to Australia and Japan where
the band played some excellent shows. But on their return to the "compound," it was the same old shit. Paul,
frustrated and angry at everything and everyone, took a break, upped, left and hid for a while. Al decided that he
had to leave the whorehouse and get back to Chicago and Chicago Trax Studios. Back in familiar and
comfortable surroundings, without distractions and enjoying fully functional gear, Al holed up for a couple of
months and got to work. Seriously. Paul was re-energized. Both started bouncing off each other and the album
was completed quickly and happily.
Filth Pig got finished. It isn't too much on the "happy shiny people" side of life, but hell, is yours? It's really slow in
parts, fat and ugly all around and perhaps the most pure riff-driven Ministry album yet. Yes, it's got all sorts of
aggravation and pain and anger and general shit dripping through the craziness.
You know what it is? Wouldn't you make angry music? Wouldn't you name it Filth Pig?
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