Welcome to âWhere to Startâ! As always, weâll be guiding you through the back catalogue of established bands - both obscure and relatively well known - and covering their best, worst and most middling cuts. Weâll be dividing the bandsâ output into five categories: Start Here, Follow Up, Try This, For Fans Only and Avoid. This month: Shellac.
Crawling out of the “gnarliest backyard” in Chicago in 1992, came a three minded being formed from the remnants of splintered punk and noise acts. From then until now, this lumbering behemoth has dabbled in a combination of corrugated angular guitars, repetitive rhythms, and calculatingly woven time signatures, ringing out a sardonically humorous call. This being is actually a trio of men, and they call themselves Shellac.
Throughout the majority of their run, Shellac has consistently comprised of vocalist/guitarist Steve Albini (ex Big Black, Rapeman), vocalist/bassist Bob Weston (ex Volcano Suns) and vocalist/drummer Todd Trainer (ex Breaking Circus, Rifle Sport). Along with Albini and Weston’s renowned skills as recording engineers (both of whom utilise a sporadic analog recording style), this trio have created some of the most interesting and viciously delivered tunes ever to grace the soundscape. This has led them to being an inspirational cult like entity over the past two and a half decades in the realms of math rock, noise, post hardcore and punk. Therefore, we only think it right that we guide you on their discography.
Start Here: âAt Action Parkâ
From the first metallic strum of Steve Albini’s guitar, images of a desolate scrap heap and inhabitable dust bowl spring to mind. These images go hand in hand with the rough nature that Shellac conjure up here on this debut album. Crunching steel guitars, loose ‘n’ thick bass lines and methodical gut busting drums result in an abrasive assault on the senses on opening tracks ‘My Black Ass’ and the instrumental ‘Pull the Cup’. Yet through this trudging delivery, there is something smarter at play in the band’s musicianship.
The rhythms concocted by bassist Bob Weston and drummer Todd Trainer are calculative and precise in creating an unsettling tension. For instance, ‘Crow’ sees Weston’s meaty tone and Trainer’s steady hypnotic patterns co-operate in a mid tempo spiral. The tempo is picked up once Albini’s guitar intervenes, which, along with his raw, witty vocals, abrasively tears up the design. Such a level of dynamics and interplay between the rhythms and guitar is echoed throughout, whether it’s the psychotically strung ‘A Minute’, the unsettling ‘Songs of the Minerals’, or the dizzying and unnerving ‘The Admiral’, Shellac keep the listener cautiously intrigued.
For a debut, Shellac pulled no punches in crafting an uncompromisingly, no nonsense experience. Brimming with meaty sounds, Albini’s trademark dark humour on subjects of sex, violence and anti-social behaviour, and an abrasive technicality, ‘At Action Park’ is without question the recommended first listen to this Chicago trio. If you don’t believe us, then ask the Shellac fan who is still gleefully wounded by the gut punching ‘Dog and Pony Show’.
Follow-Up: â1000 Hurtsâ
In their own words, the trio took a more “mean spirited” approach on their third full length. The filthy tones and dark comical delivery on opener ‘Prayer to God’ exemplifies this. It abrasively thuds along, getting maliciously louder, resulting in a vengeful ode of revenge. In contrast to the first track of previous “lesser” album ‘Terraform’ (a record we’ll dissect later), ‘Prayer to God’ powerfully charms the listener into the rest of the album’s sarcastically hateful musicality.
As the record unfolds further along, there is a meaty selection of cuts to get stuck into. To quote the track, ‘Squirrel Song’ is indeed a off kilter “sad fucking song”, with no nonsense hidden lyrical themes, with an additional gut busting punch to it and tantalising rhythmic and tinkering mid section. Then there’s the morose contempt in ‘Canaveral’, which starts off on a subdued tempo, before the pedantic jazzy cracks begin to appear. Further highlights like the Todd Trainer led ‘Song Against Itself’ and the tightly wound ‘Mama Gina’, with it’s savage end, keep this strong level of consistency throughout. It may not reach the heights of their debut, but by the time the confrontational ‘What Song’ brings the record to gusto busting close, there is an urge to press replay and get pissed off all over again.
Try This: âDude Incredibleâ
When it came to the decision as to what would be the better album for this third category, it was at first a tie between 2007’s ‘Excellent Italian Greyhound’ and its seven year follow up, 2014’s ‘Dude Incredible’. After a couple of sessions in revisiting both, the latter effort took this spot with ease. How is this so you ask? Well, ‘Dude Incredible’, in Shellac terms, is more “straight to the point”, whilst its predecessor tended to meander, but we’ll look at that record in the next section.
Back to focusing on this recent fifth album, ‘Dude Incredible’ shows an incredibly “professional” trio showing off the very best of their skills. Highlighted examples of this include ‘All the Surveyors’ and ‘Riding Bikes’, two songs that are wrought out of a tick tocking minimalist structure, which impatiently erupts in a satisfyingly cantankerous fashion. Along with the more ill tempered cuts like ‘Compliant’ and âSurveyorâ, there is nothing laborious about what Shellac achieve on this album, making it a worthy contender with the Chicago band’s best works.
For Fans Only: âExcellent Italian Greyhoundâ
With this fourth effort, Shellac delved into improvisational methods for the delivery and structure of their craft. Opening jam ‘End of Radio’ establishes this, with it’s tightly fraught and tense tone. It ebbs and flows with precise dabbling throughout it’s eight minute runtime, easing you into the band’s usual repertoire. Admittedly, it’s a risky track at first glance as the last time the trio opened a record with a long song, the confusing first tune on second LP ‘Terraform’, it led to mixed results. However, as mentioned, it reels one into the dangerous jazzy path ahead.
Following on from this sidewinder, the trio takes things back to basics. For instance, ‘Steady As She Goes’ is full of backyard rock ‘n’ roll swagger, featuring a guitar-less mid section which sees a gripping rhythm between bass and drums holstered by Albini’s agitated vocals. Then we have the ear pricking ‘Be Prepared’, with it’s assuring one-two gutsy first half which unfolds into energetic bravado. Yet for all the straight up thrills, it’s the mesmerising spacious moments that are the strongest elements of the record. The mechanical artistry that tracks like ‘Elephant’, ‘Kittypant’ and ‘Paco’ encompass this making for an interesting spectacle. However, one track where this doesn’t work is ‘Genuine Lulabelle’. The random silences, off beat instrumentation and comical background recordings, cause the record’s flow to hit a bump in the road. Luckily, the songs which follow, from the dynamic ‘Boycott’ to guttural album closer ‘Spoke’, swerves the album back on track. On the other hand, it does ever so slightly prevent ‘Excellent Italian Greyhound’ from being a flawless album.
Avoid: âTerraformâ
For what it’s worth, Shellac are one of those few bands who’ve never released a bad record. However, when it comes down to it, 1998 sophomore effort ‘Terraform’ could be described as their least memorable. On the one hand, tracks like ‘Mouthpiece’ and ‘This Is a Picture’ contain all the filthy scraping tones you come to expect from the trio. ‘House Full of Garbage’ is a particularly trawling highlight with it’s sludgey bass at the start, which also features eerie notes prickling from Albini’s guitar part way through.
But what is the weight that tips the scale, preventing this record from creating a lasting imprint like the others? A simple answer for this could be the length of time it took to follow up their gutturally strong 1994 debut LP. This four year gap was down to both Weston and Albini’s busy producing schedule. Perhaps putting their creative energy to one side for this stretch of time led to the more subdued elements at play. For instance, the twelve minute opener, ‘Didn’t We Deserve a Look at You the Way You Really Are’, certainly feels like a confusing, hypnotic tune to reel the listener in at first. Furthermore, despite the record’s more pleasing moments, they do begin to wear thin on repeated listens, as does the whole record in fact.
Upon reflecting over Shellac’s twenty five year, five albums worth career, they’ve been creatively consistent. Sure, there has been the odd hiccup, such as ‘Terraform’ being the “weakest” output they’ve delivered, however, even on that record there is an ear pricking listenability. What makes the trio equally interesting is how they can make such innovatively structured songs come off as rough, cold and biting to the core, with an added dose of dark humour for impressionable effect. It is for these reasons that Shellac are an act worthy of your time and attention.