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It should have been a joyful time. Steve Albini, a sixty-one-year-old American musician and studio engineer (he didn’t like to call himself a producer), had just finished the new record of his band Shellac, which was supposed to come out after a ten-year hiatus. However, it will not live to see its release. Albini died of cardiac arrest right in his Chicago recording studio.
“The best thing you can do now is to record a record in a few days – with high quality, but minimal production and no interference from label officials. If this is what you want, I’m very happy to be a part of it,” Albini wrote to the members of the Nirvana band when they were to follow up on the incredible success of the Nevermind album.
He wasn’t a fan of them originally. Cobain et al. they did not arouse any strong emotion in Albini. He agreed to the collaboration because he was attracted by the opportunity to free the band from the crushing pressure of the record label and help them return to a more honest, raw sound.
“It’s not a trick to make a record where every note and every drum hit fits. Any patient idiot with a good budget can do it. I prefer to work on albums that have higher ambitions: originality, individuality, enthusiasm,” Albini continued in the letter. The raw energy of Nirvana’s last studio recording scared the band’s label Geffen so much that he ordered the two singles remixed. Nevertheless, Albini managed to live up to his words that “music must survive us all”.
Perhaps the most famous paragraph from the letter to Nirvana is about money. Albini waived all perks that are otherwise normally tolerated in the music industry – such as a percentage of royalties. “I think it is ethically unjustifiable. The band writes the songs. Band fans buy records, the band is responsible for whether the record is great or terrible. So the license fees belong to the band.” Albini could be drowning in money just thanks to a percentage of In Utero’s sales. But he preferred to win decent amounts in poker tournaments.
No dictation
He was born in Pasadena, California, but spent most of his life in Chicago, where he studied journalism and supported himself by selling records in a music store. He was influenced by the punk and DIY scene, The Ramones, but also by experimental new wave bands like Devo. He wasn’t just interested in the raw, dirty sound. His musical range was infinite. As a producer, he was willing to work with anyone who paid a basic entry fee (remaining very low compared to the competition).
He was behind the legendary records Surfer Rosa by Pixies or Rid of Me by PJ Harvey, as well as independent rockers Cloud Nothings or Godspeed You! Black Emperor. Albini’s life was guided by principles: from offering his services even to those who thought they couldn’t afford him, to the rule that anyone could take photos at his own bands’ concerts. For him, the firm principles were a way to break free from the unpredictable practices of the music industry’s big players.
Albini was able to mix punk, grunge, but also Joanna Newsom’s songwriter symphonies. Tu Albini convinced them to first record the album Ys (2006) alone with only the harp on which the singer accompanies, and then work with an orchestra. Newsom herself later stated that if they had recorded together, the album would have sounded much more formal and tight, lacking the emotionality and liveliness that made Ys one of the most acclaimed independent records of the last two decades.
On another of the more fragile records in Albini’s discography, Things We Lost In The Fire (2001) by the Minnesota duo Low, the listener has the feeling of being transported directly to the recording studio. Albini much preferred to be referred to as a studio engineer rather than a producer, believing that his job was to be an expert in studio technique. He should understand why it “hooks” him, what kind of microphone needs to be used and where to put it in order to pick up the cymbals correctly. This expertise is far more important than a producer dictating from the studio couch what a song should sound like. Albini wanted to capture the artist in his nature. Do not add anything, do not take anything away, do not push them anywhere. And to do it as precisely as possible. All of this can be heard in great detail on the Low band’s 2001 record.
A provocateur who calmed down
Before establishing himself as a studio engineer, Albini devoted himself mainly to his own musical projects. His band Big Black was formed in the early eighties, while still in university studies, and personified the same uncompromising and aggressiveness with which Albini provoked in his period music reviews. Big Black made fun of homosexuality, racism and the extreme right. They were extreme provocateurs themselves, whose music was described as unlistenable even in positive reviews, and fans found razor blades, condoms or bloody pieces of paper in the packaging of their Lungs album.
He only realized many years later that Albini’s provocations could cause pain to those around him. “A lot of what I said came from a position of comfort and privilege. They were stupid and I feel sorry for them. It is no one’s duty to overlook my missteps, but I feel obliged to apologize for them,” he confided https://twitter.com/electricalWSOP/status/1448050175658713092/.
“We miscalculated,” he said of himself and his peers. “We thought that the major battles for equality and inclusivity had already been won and would eventually play out in society, so our contrarianism, sarcasm and irony could not hurt anyone.”
Big Black broke up in 1987. Five years later, Albini formed the post-hardcore band Shellac with bassist Bob Weston and drummer Todd Trainer. The trio released records about once every ten years, but they always made a big splash. At the same time, no one has heard the new album To All Trains yet. Shellac pledged not to do any promotional material for the record. Albini’s last album will be released on May 17.
