On Wednesday—really Tuesday—Apple put out an ad where an industrial hydraulic press crushes a small mountain of items, including paint cans, an upright piano, and cameras before revealing the latest, thinnest iPad now available. The intent was to say that the new iPad can do it all, and compress all of that into one device, but a lot of people found the ad appalling for the destruction of the instruments of artistic creativity. Japanese people in particular, whose culture holds the tools of artistry to be sacred, were aghast, desperately asking if there was some cultural context they were missing that could justify this. There really isn’t. Apple seemed to be saying that artistic mastery, fine craftsmanship and an appreciation for both are now garbage to be disposed of. Now, all that you need, for the low price of several hundred dollars or so, paid to one of the world’s biggest corporations, is The Slab™.
I’m not sure what to make that the next big cultural news was that Steve Albini was dead of an apparent heart attack.
A true master of his craft, Albini was best known for his bands including Big Black and Shellac, bringing an intensity to underground rock that continues to reverberate. He was also a recording engineer behind what are regarded as some of the best, greatest-sounding records of the past 40 years—The Jesus Lizard’s Goat seemingly a consensus pick there. While he was steeped in punk rock, it also matters that his engineering credits go well beyond hard and heavy stuff—the other consensus pick of his best work being Joanna Newsom’s Ys. Famously telling Nirvana he would like to be paid like a plumber for his work on In Utero, he turned down what would have been millions in royalties on the principle that it was unfair to the band for him to profit off of their work. He felt it was his job to do the best he could to make the band sound like the best version of who they are, and it was unethical for him to earn more than he did for his part of the work.
It was his principles that commanded the respect of those who he worked with and those who listened to him even outside of the music. His rate for work remained fairly reasonable even for bands just getting started, alongside the name-brand talent frequently mentioned in memory of him. He suffered no fools, but he was never above finding time to articulately explain the basics to those who didn’t know them, or give his perspective—when asked. His eloquence extended to his writing and his thoughts expressed on social media, however profanely expressed they might be, and he made it clear that his disgust for something, whether music industry practices, individual groups like the Grateful Dead or Steely Dan, or transphobia, was based on those principles and practices. Even when you felt he was wrong—I should have a positive-skewing essay on the Dead in the next issue here—he was right on this basis. It always felt a bit absurd that he was on Twitter and Bluesky, weighing in on the discourse of the day, having some bits he’d occasionally bring out, or solicit questions while waiting for his laundry to finish. Then again, that was in line with his ethos, and part of me still feels like he’s just on a little social media break and will be back to posting soon enough.
Of course, he was definitely wrong about plenty. A lot of his name-calling in his writing was uncalled for, and his band Rapeman wasn’t his most offensively named, for starters. Even during the worst of this, it didn’t repel artists he worked with like Kim Deal or PJ Harvey, but he felt he was not accountable enough for his earlier transgressions. And he admitted it without reservation, that he was wrong, full stop. The principles were solid, but their execution was not, and it wasn’t only the fault of the idiots in the crowd who didn’t understand the deeper meaning of what he was getting at. While many people in similar positions have learned from the former president—who Albini continued denouncing up to the day of his death—that you don’t have to apologize for anything, you can double down and whine about how they just don’t get it, and it’s so unfair how you’re being treated [because you did those things], and you can’t even say anything in this country nowadays without a bunch of people telling you … it was beyond refreshing to see him acknowledge the harm he had done, and work to improve himself and do what he could to make the world a better place beyond filling it with art that resonates the world over. If everyone the world over did a fraction of this similar work, we’d be in a much better place; already the world is a little worse with his example no longer among us in the flesh.
It matters too that he was not just an incredible figure in the music industry, but that he was by all accounts a well-rounded if grumpy guy. The best Halloween candy in the neighborhood. A very good poker player. Generous not only with his time and the artists he worked with, but in giving opportunities to people starting in their careers at Electrical Audio. The world has lost not only an important cultural figure, but a good neighbor too.
Many people have been noting their favorite Albini-engineered record in their eulogies, or the first time they heard his touch and felt something back. I’ll pick Attack on Memory, Cloud Nothings’ 2012 record, for mine. I’m a bit divided on it when I think about it, to be honest: it’s not the most polished record out there, and there some youthfulness and directness to songs like ‘Stay Useless’ that, while they resonate, are not stuff I revisit all the time. At the same time, it’s a near-perfect portrait of a band expanding their sound, trying out new things, and finding a reliable guide to help them develop, and I recall ‘Wasted Days’ as one of the first times I got into a longform, massive-sounding song with an equally long runtime. First hearing it, I knew the Albini association was important if not what exactly it meant. Coming across that at 17 was definitely something which, even if I wasn’t all in on it or felt I was in the right place, was nevertheless a sign that I was on the right path towards it. I’m glad Albini was there to help me guide me towards that, broadly speaking.
I passed right by Electrical Audio on the bus heading to and from Podlasie Club earlier this weekend. (Did Steve like its revitalization as a club? Or did he despise the DJing and posturing of contemporary dance music? Perhaps the former, definitely the latter.) When I don’t opt for the lake, it’s right by one of the routes I go for a long walk on. I’ve definitely stood looking at it from across the street before, a squat building now sandwiched between new-build apartments in that style that’s the cheapest way to build to code. It felt absurd for it to just be there, in the middle of a Chicago streetscape, from the outside just some unremarkable building, but one of the most important cultural institutions in the city, perhaps the world. Had he been in there earlier that day or week? Was someone famous in there working on their next record? Even if the answer to both of those is ‘no’, what is bring recorded in there now? How many of his neighbors understood what went on in there, who was in or had been in there, and how important it’s been?
There’s a new Shellac album out next week. No prerelease singles, no early access for the press, none of that music industry bullshit, just a note to mark your calendars that was sent out a few weeks ago. The day he had passed, Shellac announced a handful of shows. He had recently been posting about how awful ticket fees were when booking those dates. I had been thinking I should go to one of them, to see Steve in action. Some people will probably try to read into the album as some kind of final message from Steve, but that’s absurd. A heart attack at 61. I saw the Messthetics at Lincoln Hall last night, and Brendan Canty, who also drummed in Fugazi, choked up during a brief intro just acknowledging the 40-year relationship between him and Steve. He probably would’ve been there if it happened a week earlier. I’m gonna be 30 at the end of this year. Christ. Getting struck by lightning or killed in a car accident seems less absurd.
Requiescat, Steve Albini. Thank you for everything you did. We miss you dearly already.
There are always bands that are worth noting and yet, oftentimes, actually finding words to describe them or their music is challenging. This is particularly true for bands whose live act and energy is of paramount importance, and there’s little substitute for being there, seeing them, or listening to the music. So, Tramhaus are a five-piece post-punk band from Rotterdam. Not as literary as some of their peers, but not as plainspoken as someone like Iguana Death Cult either. I discovered them from The Quietus gushing about them, their debut album is out in 4 months, and perhaps they’ll have broken up by then and be fine with it. In the meantime, their singles radiate energy with that slight distance that comes from not being a native English speaker, whether in a slower, more melodramatic manner or a faster, groovier style. Compare the studio version of the A-side of their ‘Minus Twenty / Erik’s Song’ single—probably their best work so far—to them performing it at SXSW below. Are you excited yet? I think you should be.
Jessica Pratt is one of those artists I’ve known about but never really listened to as singer-songwriters aren’t my thing. That was a mistake. Her new album got enough hype to make me check her out, and I’m glad I did. It’s a slippery, mercurial record I’ve had on repeat since that first listen, that seems a lot like the kinds of 60s and 70s folk records that got dug up during the freak folk boom … a while ago. (Did you see Animal Collective are putting out a live record of their Sung Tongs shows from a few years ago?) The closest touch points I can point to for this are Cindy Lee’s Diamond Jubilee—I think this is better than that one fwiw—and another artist covered a few entries below. I find it hard to believe I’ll be able to see her do this live in a couple months at Pitchfork Music Festival, and not as a legacy performer either.
I caught local band Plum open for Acid Mothers Temple last year, and really enjoyed them, to the point that any show with them on it immediately piques my interest. AMT evidently liked them a lot too, as I'm not sure how else a band who hadn't officially released any music or played beyond Milwaukee wound up touring Japan for 2 weeks with one of the most enviable lists of Japanese underground figures this side of Le Guess Who? Opening for TsuShiMaMiRe a few weeks ago, I was reminded again just how solid they are.
Plum's sound is a slightly but significantly different type of guitar-bass-drum post-punk, of the 'something's wrong with you if you won't at least bounce to it' variety. The exact combo, per them, is krautrock/no wave/indie sleaze. The debut single from their forthcoming album is a super efficient, taut affair. No wasted time or space as the trio immediately lock in and get to business. I've listened to this probably a couple dozen times (and have seen them do it live twice), yet it's still hard to believe it's only 3 people playing. They open for Brainiac later this month and are on the Logan Square Arts Fest bill too, so now's the perfect time to get in on the ground level of a thrilling local act (that happens to also be well-regarded in Japan).
Update: I pre-wrote the above while deskwarming earlier this week, and this morning they dropped single #2 from the album, due out in around 2 months. The hype hasn’t diminished on my end.
It doesn’t take a whole lot to get me to spin something from either Chicago or New Zealand, but a band from Auckland? With an un-Googlable name like ‘Family Band’? Influenced by both “Chicago noise rock and late 00's Trans-Tasman post-punk”? Are they aware Air New Zealand flies direct to O’Hare nowadays? As you can imagine, it’s a searing, bracing listen that might have some crossover appeal for the Big Dudes into metal for it. Well worth keeping an eye on for future developments.
One of the numerous pandemic-initiated projects to capture my ears was the long-distance collaborative krautrock quartet Winged Wheel. For album #2 the band convened in the Hudson Valley for a weekend of jamming, adding Lonnie Slack of Water Damage and this guy Steve Shelley—perhaps you’ve heard of him before?—into the fold. The result definitely does feel like the results of said synthesis of members and context. There’s plenty of hazy intermittent noise throughout, the type of sound that comes after the main theme but before the buildup to the conclusion, anchored by Whitney Johnson’s singing. If that’s your cup of tea the album’s got plenty of it to sate you.
I can’t consider the timing to be anything but coincidental, but another tragic early death in underground music—that of Broadcast’s Trish Keenan to influenza over a decade ago—is heavy on my mind right now. Spell Blanket is a posthumous compilation of songs and sketches Keenan was demoing following Tender Buttons. Some, like highlight ‘Petal Alphabet’, are pretty close to full songs, while the others are in fact sketches; ‘Dream Power’ is a good one of those. While there have been a number of these compilations Warp has put out before, this one and another coming in September will be the final Broadcast releases. RIP Trish Keenan, and thank you for all the wonderful music.
Back to the post-punk stuff now. Montreal’s Corridor dropped this a few weeks ago and it’s a very nice listen, heavy circulation on my speakers. It draws from the noise-poppier side of motorik stuff, while being chock full of weird nosies and interlocking staccato guitar lines, with a lot of dreamy French vocals within. Joojoo Ashworth, who’s worked with L.A.’s Dummy and Automatic, served as producer on this record and the sounds of those bands is very apparent here. This is their 4th record, and second for Sub Pop, so I appear to have some followup work to do here.
Another Crow’s Nest entry, another post-punk record via … France’s Another Record. If you’re wondering if I ever get tired of this stuff, not really, especially with so much variety in sounds on offer. That being said, finding the different words for closely-related sounds is not exactly my strong suit, so bear with me. This band, Irnini Mons, which I believe is based in Lyon, has a fairly rare distinction that every member can sing reasonably well, with the record starting off quietly before picking up steam after a few songs. Completely coincidentally—I did not notice this until writing this up—the band did tour with Shellac a few years ago and Albini thought highly of a couple members’ earlier project Decibelles. Perhaps you will too.
The post-punk scenes across Europe have been rising up recently, and Berlin’s Rouge are back with another record after a couple of years. Beginning with what sounds like the Minutemen playing a proper hoedown, the band soon pivot into their hardcore-inflected, surf-y post-punk, with a vocal delivery a bit reminiscent of Special Interest’s Alli Logout or Negative Scanner’s Rebecca Valeriano-Flores. It hits hard and quick and is over in a flash, practically begging for another spin (this time now available for your turntable).
Venturing back to Rotterdam not for more post-punk, but for dance music. Not gabber either, but for some of the hybrid underground stuff Nous’Klaer Audio loves. 4 tracks, a twitchy sound somewhere on the bass continuum with punchy kicks, one I’ve given a few spins since it came out last week. Perfect material for the adventurous smaller room.
A pair of little dark looping chuggers from Athens, GA weirdo outpost Primordial Void head Marcel Sletten, rounded out with a more ambient synthscape number that ends on a crunch. I’m reminded a lot of PAN’s Mono no Aware compilation when I listen to this.
Now that we’re done with the post-punk section of this—just kidding! Across the country from Tramhaus, the Groningen group Geo play the wiry, taut version sort of post-punk that’s closely related to no wave. Fairly political yet bouncy, it somehow does feel different than all the other sorts of post-punk above, if you’re into the more skeletal, abrasive, junk dance side of the genre.
Miniskirt are a local band always popping up on dive bar bills, playing an old-school but reliable type of feel-good rock and roll. They don’t exactly reinvent the wheel on this, their self-released debut LP, but it’s always a good time, whether you’re laying in the sun or a couple beers deep at 10 PM.
I’ve got this on as I tighten this issue up and insert the formatting and all, jesus it’s already 6:30 PM, I thought I’d be exercising by now at the latest. Anyway, Duckett have had at least a few records come out recently that have just barely missed the cut on past issues, and I’d hoped I’d be able to spend more time with it ahead of this issue, but I say that about a number of quality releases each issue, and I’ve determined that I am about to hit the maximum number of open tabs in one window before my laptop starts fighting me tooth and nail. I realize that says nothing about the music, which is an odds-and-ends mix of ambient-leaning dance music stuff. If some of these stand out to me like they did to Ben UFO and Batu before I hit the final send, I’ll add them here: ‘Cat’ sounds like Aleksi Perälä or Laurie Spiegel; the run beginning with ‘I Could Get Myself Into Hot Water’ is really good, nice tension between the downtempo keys and that punchy percussion on that one;
Well, that’s issue #69 of Crow’s Nest for you. I had hoped to make the obvious pun about that but, well, it didn’t seem appropriate. I imagine Albini kinda looking down in disapproval at how obvious that would be. Anyway, thank you as always for reading, I hope you found something above that you enjoyed. Steve Albini wasn’t exactly a YOLO type of guy, but if there’s anything he hated it was the idea of putting things off in hopes of future benefits, or doing something for someone else because you were forced to, when you could be living your life instead. Make that art. Live your life. Tomorrow’s not guaranteed, as we were all brutally reminded this week. Take care until next time.
