A quietly difficult, challenging meditation on the personal detritus that accumulates around addiction, Lisa Germano’s Lullaby for Liquid Pig is a twelve-song cycle of diaphanous, hazy strands of sound, interwoven with her weary, smoke-hewn vocals and sadly gorgeous melodies. Although albums of this dark sort rarely rocket into the sunny stratosphere of pop’s charts, they do manage to burrow into its culture — just follow the harrowing, epochal through line that binds Tonight’s the Night to In Utero. Upon its initial release in 2003, Lullaby for Liquid Pig failed to imbed itself as indelibly into the charts as it did the ears of those lucky enough to hear it before it flat-lined into out-of-print oblivion.
Luckily for listeners and the album, Lullaby for Liquid Pig has been resurrected by Young God, replete with a bonus disc of rarities and live cuts for added depth and context. Yet it’s the album proper that remains so bleakly radiant — from the piano-looped, painkiller haze of “Nobody’s Playing” to the plaintive, heartbreaking slow burn of “Pearls” (“hate will grow into blossoms of no/ take you lower than low/ hate will grow with your alcohol glow”) that ascends (or descends, if you like) into a shimmering crescendo of lyric resignation and aural swaths of wraithlike beauty. Though the shoegazing is buoyed by the up-tempo gloom of “Candy” and hopeful lyrics of “To Dream,” Germano’s Lullaby for Liquid Pig remains a haunting twelve-step into the depths of human need. The album’s success — and redemption — lies in the beauty of the lullabies it finds there.