It's a curious story from when I was in New York working with Sonic Youth Dirty. Trying to keep costs down, I found an apartment not far from where Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore lived. It belonged to a friend of theirs who was in Europe at the time, I rented it for a couple of months. It was in a three-story building and the first time I entered I saw a large photo of Steve Albini smiling, with a knife in his mouth and sticking out of his cheek. He was friends with the owner of the apartment, they went to punk concerts together, stuff like that. And so every evening, when I returned from the studio, Steve was there to welcome me. He was scary.
I met him through Corey Rusk of the Touch and Go label in the late 80's or maybe it was the early 90's. We both made punk records and worked with pretty much the same bands like Urge Overkill and Tad. I had seen Big Black live in Chicago. The volume was crazy and I was standing there trying to act cool without covering my ears in a corner where I thought the music was a little less loud. It was definitely intense stuff, clanging of sheet metal, but it was also cathartic.
I was familiar with Steve's work as a sound engineer. I wouldn't call it competition between us, but when I listened to his records I wondered what microphones he used for the bass drum or something like that. He had been a photo editing artist, someone who removed imperfections from people's faces. I don't think he liked trying to alter reality to improve it and I think he brought this aesthetic into the world in which he recorded music. He wasn't interested in polishing it up to transform it into what it wasn't.
The first time I met him in person was when he came to the studio where I was working at 8 Way Santa of the Tads. She stared at you as if she was analyzing you. Jonathan Poneman of Sub Pop had said that Tad had a beautiful voice and therefore he had to be persuaded to sing seriously, not just scream. And so I encouraged him to sing more melodically than on the record (Salt Licked) that the band had done with Steve. When Steve came to the studio, he heard a couple of songs and said to me: «Why are you trying to get Tad to sing? He's not a singer.” She used to throw digs like this at me.
But it was cool, I always thought he made great records. I love the PJ Harvey one (Rid of Meed). The first time I heard it I envied the dynamics that she was able to create with voice and guitars, it was explosive stuff. She captured what PJ Harvey was at that moment. It's the album that introduced me to her, she did a great job.
He made me listen to strange records, like punk bands with a comedic streak. He didn't like pop, whatever melody it contained, in the voice or in the guitar, it wasn't for him. Perhaps he associated the words pop and business. He was light years away from the world of hit records and mainstream radio. He was faithful to the DIY aesthetic until the end.
In the '80s and '90s, when we started reading his name in fanzines, he gave crazy interviews in which he was acid and provocative, sometimes even with artists he had worked with and who he didn't particularly like. I found this shocking. When I work with someone a relationship is created, you do your job in the recording room, you don't necessarily have to say that someone sucked. Clearly there was a sense of humor on his part. As you know, he dissed me too. He once said something like “Butch Vig wants to make all bands sound like the Beatles.” I took it as a compliment… more or less.
More often, he resented the bullshit he saw in the music business. What she said in that famous article (“The problem with music”, ed) It is true. He was like that with almost all the bands I knew who worked with the major labels. It also happened to the group I played with, Fire Town: upon signing the contract we found ourselves with 500 thousand dollars in debt and without selling any records. The band ended there.
I was sorry when Nirvana didn't want to work with me (After Neverminded). In hindsight, and I talked about this with Dave Grohl, it was right that they changed. You can't be a punk purist like Kurt and make a hugely successful record. So they chose Steve, who made an album with a decidedly rawer sound. Kurt needed it and Steve did it. It is known that he negotiated with their label, Geffen, and then put the correspondence on the Internet. I found it funny, he wasn't afraid to post stuff like that.
One more thing: He wasn't someone to play poker with. He was very good. He has also participated in national tournaments. He made a lot of money, the winnings helped him keep the studio open. He told me that you have to be very disciplined to play poker, you have to know your odds well.
Over time he has mellowed out a bit. When we were doing Sonic Highways of Foo Fighters, we went to his studio in Chicago to work on the first track. He was very kind. On the first day I arrived with Taylor Hawkins to set up the instrument. Steve explained to me how he built the drum booth by going to New Mexico where there was a particular type of stone used in the wall that was reflective, but also porous, so it made the sound softer. It was absolutely perfect. Taylor also said it was the best drum sound he had ever heard.
It was on that occasion that I discovered that Steve was also a food connoisseur. The first day he served us coffee, “the best you've ever had,” he said. The grains somehow came from monkey feces, so he told us. They pass through the digestive system and lose acidity. He was actually delicious.
The last time we wrote to each other was just before Covid. I wanted to buy some of that coffee for my study, but it had to be ordered online. It cost a fortune, around thirty dollars a kilo, but it had a very smooth and slightly acidic taste. He was right Steve.
From Rolling Stone US.