8 Tracks: What was the Steve Albini sound? Almost everything
8 Tracks is your antidote to the algorithm. Each week, NPR Music producer Lars Gotrich, with the help of his colleagues, makes connections between sounds across time.
The same three records have led pretty much every obituary for Steve Albini, including my own. And how could they not? Nirvana's In Utero is a gripping maelstrom of vomitous punk. Pixies' Surfer Rosa swerves from sweet to sinister in an instant. PJ Harvey's Rid of Me simmers just as much as it seethes. Albini understood that, as a recording engineer, a moment made all the difference — his job was not only to capture a ring of feedback or the decay of a drum, but, more crucially, the integrity and feeling of that artistic choice. If an artist was willing to confront their truths, Albini was ready to take them into the gaping maw.
Even though I knew and even loved these records — and was later introduced to his bands Big Black and — the first time I really registered Albini as a distinct studio presence was on 's In 2001, the trio was slowly stepping out its self-imposed slowcore parameters; even songs that "rocked out" (see: "Dinosaur Act")
