A few days ago, a friend of mine asked what the difference between a film producer and a music producer is. After thinking it over for a few seconds, I responded, "Film producers are rich and provide financial backing. Music producers are geeks and provide knob twiddling." Granted, my response doesn't quite capture the complex roles of either film producer or music producer. Shit, I could be completely wrong, for all I know. But it sounded good at the time.
Perhaps my image of a typical music producer/engineer has been tainted by Steve Albini. Due in no small part to his reputation, as well as the interviews I've read, I've always pictured him sitting behind a recording console, muttering obscenities to himself, encouraging bands to their faces and dissing them behind their backs. "Great take, Gavin. I can tell this record is going to be huge. You're a fucking genius." That night: "Can you believe I'm recording an album by fucking Bush? These guys are fucking idiots. They don't know the first thing about recording an album. They probably think a compressor is something you put your garbage in!"
Albini's career as a musician hasn't done anything to discourage his image as a total dick. With Big Black and the oh-so-classy Rapeman, he recorded songs about pedophilia, self- immolation, and alcoholism. Albini has always played the sarcastic fuck on his records, his abrasive guitar and unpolished vocals egging on the listener. But 1000 Hurts confirms what previous Albini records have only hinted at. Behind the cynical, hypocritical façade is a pissed off geek. And with this record, Albini has finally given his inner Elvis Costello a voice.
For starters, the album's title is a geeky in-joke. 1000 Hurts = 1000 hertz, or 1 kilohertz. The album's inner sleeve is printed to look like an oscilloscope. Its opening track, "Prayer to God," begins with a deep voice running through the technical specifications of the album's recording. And then the rocking begins. Steve Albini's guitar blasts pure distorted treble as he pleads, "To the one true God above/ Here is my prayer... / There are two people here/ And I want you to kill them." As fellow producer Bob Weston on bass and Todd Trainer on drums bust the track open, Albini delves into the specifics of his request for the death of his ex. "Her, she can go quietly/ By disease or a blow/ To the base of her neck." Her new beau is not spared: "Him, just fucking kill him/ I don't care if it hurts/ Yes I do/ I want it to."
What Albini's voice and lyrics convey here is a combination of anguish, self-importance, and helplessness. He's not going to kill his ex-girlfriend and her new flame; he asks God to do his dirty work for him. By the end of the track, "Fucking kill him" has become a mantra. Weston and Trainer pound their instruments like doped-up gorillas. The intensity makes "primal" sound like something British people drink with breakfast.
The rest of 1000 Hurts shows Shellac in prime form. Since the release of Terraforms, they seem to have realized that 12-minute rock songs don't rock. This record's longest track, "Mama Gina," clocks in at an appropriate 5:44, long enough to fully flesh out the song, but not so long that the groove gets tired. The only major objection here comes with the uninteresting, pretentious, but mercifully short "New Number Order." At 1:40, the track could easily have been left out.
But as harsh and abrasive as it sounds, 1000 Hurts is an undeniably strong release. This album rocks hard, despite the fact that the man behind it is a squishy A/V club member with a bad attitude. So it seems that Albini's success as a producer hasn't greatly improved his personal life. Luckily, the same can't be said for his records.
