Biig Piig : 11:11 Review

by Shannon Smith

In the still hours of the early morning, when the world softens and streetlights shimmer like distant memories, Biig Piig’s debut 11:11 arrives as a conflicted confession and celebration. The album’s title, a nod to the mystical “angel number,” suggests that every moment, every stray heartbeat, is part of a larger, unscripted narrative. Here, Jess Smyth unfolds a story of restless nights and fleeting clarity.

The record opens with “4AM,” where her signature whisper‑sung vocals float over a beat that mimics the slow pulse of a city in transition. It’s as if she’s confessing in the quiet aftermath of a wild night, “I know you don’t want to be alone,” a line that echoes with vulnerability and resilience. This delicate, almost ethereal delivery sets the tone for the entire album, inviting you to lean into the intimacy of her sonic landscape.

As the night deepens, the production shifts gears. On “Ponytail,” the groove becomes hypnotic with flashes of retro disco vibes with modern twists. The track’s infectious rhythm, punctuated by long, breathy breaks, encapsulates that moment when love feels dangerous and deliriously sweet. The song’s upbeat cadence is heightened by the underlying production that never strays far from the album’s sonic heart.

“9-5” is adorned with a deceptively simple guitar part colored with a chorus effect; the track mirrors the duality of daily life: the mundane laced with sparks of unexpected brilliance. Here, Biig Piig demonstrates how even the most common moments can be transformed into something luminous when seen through the right lens.

11:11 is a journey through the pandemonium of modern life as it plays like a collection of snapshots from late‑night confessions, bittersweet farewells, and hopeful beginnings. In “Decimal,” for instance, the song’s powerful, bilingual verses become an ode to connection in a world that often feels disjointed. The production, at once bold and nuanced, employs a descending sequence of tempos that mimic the easing of tension, much like the gradual acceptance of one’s evolving self.

While some moments may lean toward the familiar—the echoey guitars on “Silhouette” and the over‑polished claps on “Favourite Girl” hinting at tried‑and‑true pop tropes—the overall narrative remains compelling. It’s a record that doesn’t just invite you to dance; it beckons you to pause, reflect, and even shed a tear amid the neon glow of the night.

In a noisy world filled with the clamor of disposable tracks, 11:11 feels like a moment of cosmic alignment for some long-term playlist material. These are tracks for when life seems messy; every beat and every lyric is for those chasing fleeting sparks of clarity amid life’s messy, dim hours.

Biig Piig: Website