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Steve Albini

Figlio di genitori immigrati torinesi, Steven Frank Albini, detto Steve, nasce a Pasadena il 22 luglio 1962. Dopo aver vissuto i primi diciotto anni nel Montana, nel 1980 si trasferisce a Chicago per studiare giornalismo alla Northwestern University. È proprio a Chicago che si avvicina alla scena musicale hardcore. Nel 1982 fonda la sua prima band, i Big Black, uno dei gruppi più influenti nell’àmbito del noise rock. Il successo della band rimane di nicchia, ma Albini, grazie alla sua energia vocale e chitarristica, riesce a lasciare un segno nella scena hardcore di quegli anni.

In the 1970s, I wasn’t really into music at all. I was more into photography as a kid. I took pictures and wrote reviews for the school newspaper as a way to get free tickets to concerts in town, but I’ll admit I didn’t give a shit about the music.
Until one day a friend played me the first Ramones album, this would have been in 1978 or ’79, and it gradually became a cornerstone of my existence. I could hear in that record a whole new way to think about music, people, and the rest of the world, and I wanted to be part of that. I became an obsessive Ramones fan and ravenous record buyer, picking up any record with a strange cover, hoping it would somehow be connected to that world hinted at by the Ramones. I left town (I grew up in Missoula, Montana) to come to Chicago for college, and I made it a project to insinuate myself into the music scene here. It gradually consumed the whole of my life.
Andrew Daly, An Interview with Steve Albini of Big Black and Schellac, vwmusic.com, 26 novembre 2020

Nel 1987 I Big Black si sciolgono e, sempre a Chicago, nello stesso anno Albini fonda i Rapeman, band che suscita molte polemiche a causa del nome. (Nel 2020 Albini ha ammesso di essersi pentito di quella scelta.) Nel 1992 fonda gli Schellac, band che si autodefinisce un “trio rock minimalista” e che si oppone apertamente all’industria discografica, muovendosi secondo dinamiche di completa autogestione. Il trio è composto da Steve Albini, Bob Weston e Todd Trainer. Nei suoi testi, tramite voci distorte e suoni metallici e graffianti, affronta i problemi che vivono i giovani nel mondo occidentale.

When my band is working on songs, we’re not trying to write a hit, we’re not trying to make a million selling smash. We’re trying to make music that’s interesting to us and that’s engaging to play and that when we play at live, we’re invigorated by it. I honestly, I genuinely don’t give a fiddler’s fuck if anybody else likes it, it’s nice when other people like it and get involved with your band and engage you in this way like you’re communicating with them. That’s great, it’s rewarding, and I like it right, but we’re not doing it for them.
Andrew Daly, An Interview with Steve Albini of Big Black and Schellac, vwmusic.com, 26 novembre 2020

Oltre che musicista, Steve Albini è anche critico musicale e produttore, nonostante preferisca essere definito «recording engineer». Ha lavorato a oltre millecinqueento album con le più notevoli personalità della musica indie, tra cui Nirvana e Nina Nastasia. Utilizza solo supporti analogici perché ritiene il digitale qualitativamente inferiore. Steve ha deciso di non ricevere royalties dalle band con cui collabora, e non vuole essere inserito tra i credits dei loro album. Nel 1993, in un saggio dal titolo The Problem with Music, si espone duramente contro l’industria musicale e discografica: afferma di essere contro le grandi case discografiche (perché è contrario a ogni forma di sfruttamento dell’essere umano).
Attualmente porta avanti uno studio di registrazione, l’Electrical Audio, che ha fondato nel 1997.

I don’t think my contribution to a record is so critical that I should exact a tribute from the band for life. I work on a record for a few days or, rarely, a few weeks. Pay me for my time like anybody else and I’m content. I don’t need to siphon your income for the rest of your life for it.
The system of paying people like me royalties out of the artist’s share is absurd on its face, and it could only have developed in an industry like this, where the money is not controlled by the people who earn it, but by the people whose reputations depend on spending that money within the industry.
Andrew Daly, An Interview with Steve Albini of Big Black and Schellac, vwmusic.com, 26 novembre 2020

I would like to be paid like a plumber: I do the job and you pay me what it’s worth. The record company will expect me to ask for a point or a point and a half. If we assume three million sales, that works out to 400,000 dollars or so. There’s no fucking way I would ever take that much money. I wouldn’t be able to sleep.
I have to be comfortable with the amount of money you pay me, but it’s your money, and I insist that you be comfortable with it as well. Kurt suggested paying me a chunk which I would consider full payment, and then if you really thought I deserved more, paying me another chunk after you’d had a chance to live with the album for a while. That would be fine, but probably more organizational trouble than it’s worth.
Whatever. I trust you guys to be fair to me and I know you must be familiar with what a regular industry goon would want. I will let you make the final decision about what I’m going to be paid. How much you choose to pay me will not affect my enthusiasm for the record.
Frammento di una lettera scritta da Steve Albini ai Nirvana

So, I’ve never had goals in my life, there’s never been anything that I’ve wanted to do or wanted to accomplish. I’ve essentially always operated on the basis of having a practice or having a process, and whatever the results of that are I’m content with because the practice and the process are sound in my mind.
Rory Hinchey, Steve Albini: I don’t ever have goals and I don’t have ambitions, hellycherry.com

Whenever I talk to a band who are about to sign with a major label, I always end up thinking of them in a particular context. I imagine a trench, about four feet wide and five feet deep, maybe sixty yards long, filled with runny, decaying shit. I imagine these people, some of them good friends, some of them barely acquaintances, at one end of this trench. I also imagine a faceless industry lackey at the other end, holding a fountain pen and a contract waiting to be signed.
Nobody can see what’s printed on the contract. It’s too far away, and besides, the shit stench is making everybody’s eyes water. The lackey shouts to everybody that the first one to swim the trench gets to sign the contract. Everybody dives in the trench and they struggle furiously to get to the other end. Two people arrive simultaneously and begin wrestling furiously, clawing each other and dunking each other under the shit. Eventually, one of them capitulates, and there’s only one contestant left. He reaches for the pen, but the Lackey says, «Actually, I think you need a little more development. Swim it again, please. Backstroke».
And he does, of course.
Steve Albini, The Problem with Music, dicembre 1993

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