There's not much that Matthew Herbert hasn't sampled. Brushing teeth, biting apples and cheering clubbers have all proved grist for his sonic mill. Now he turns his mic on a lone pig, whose life he captures from birth to death to dinner -- a posthumous coda of sorts, featuring smacking lips and clinking silverware. Formally, it's more abstract than Herbert's warm-hearted house music, but it's not as forbidding as you'd expect. The rustling rhythms and subdued tones are meant to create a space that invites contemplation -- over the music, the choices we make and the systems that bind us.