A brilliant fellow with a lacerating wit
Thank you, Steve Albini
“I would describe him as a brilliant fellow and very, you know, he’s got a lacerating wit, and he doesn’t suffer fools, that’s for sure.”
– Ian MacKaye, Fugazi and Dischord Records 1
December 2023, Columbus, OH
Shiny, crumpled paper, curly ribbons, and decorated bags surround my family and me in Mom and Dad’s living room. I try to rouse my legs, which have fallen asleep while sitting on the floor during our marathon gift exchange.
Ten of us have gathered for the festivities, and it’s a tight fit. A sold-out show.
My wife, our two daughters (aged 12 and 9), and I are in from California. My brother Mike and his wife drove from Chicago with their two children, who are the same ages as ours. Despite the larger group, it’s a scene that reminds me of my childhood. Of course, now it’s my daughters and my niece and nephew who are the center of attention, not my brother and me.
There are so many packages that opening them takes all morning. About halfway through, Dad takes a load of boxes and spent wrapping paper to the recycling bin and comes back with a coffee carafe to top up the grown-up energy levels.
Every year after dessert at Thanksgiving dinner, everyone asks everyone else, “What do you want for Christmas?” My response is always delayed and unhelpful. I understand why they ask, and I acknowledge that I am a difficult person to buy a gift for. In my time, I have cultivated specific, esoteric, and somewhat expensive preferences. This year, everyone also wants to know what I want for my 50th birthday, which is coming up quickly on April 23.
I try not to be Scroogey about all the Christmas gifting, but we have opened a whole lot of gifts and I’m not sure what message we are sending our kids. Every year, I try to find a way to suggest that we ratchet down the gift-giving, but it’s a hard topic to bring up. For my part, I’ve done pretty well on this year’s haul. I have accumulated a power tool and a nice pile of books I hope to find time to read, and I am thrilled to help my 9-year-old with her new remote-control car. My brother’s gift to me is a stack of envelopes to be opened one at a time at intervals of his choosing throughout the Christmas morning ritual. Mike is ensuring maximum drama surrounds the presentation of his gift to me.
Envelope #1
I remove a single sheet of paper from the envelope and unfold it to find a photograph of a stand-assist-walker. It’s the type of thing you need if you are injured or your mobility is greatly compromised in some other way—perhaps by old age.
Ha, ha, yes, I’m getting old. I guess Mike has created a riddle or puzzle for me to solve.
Envelope #2
Again, a single sheet of paper, but this time with a portrait of weatherman Al Roker. Now I think this has something to do with weather, but that’s all I’ve got.
Envelope #3
An image of a stocking cap. My brother helpfully points out that it is also called a “beanie.” I guess this confirms the weather theory?
Envelope #4
An image of the Chicago “bean” sculpture in Millennium Park. Of course, Chicago is well known for cold, windy winters and hot, sweaty summers, so I still think this is about weather.
Envelope #5
An image of a professional-looking recording studio mixing console.
Oh my. I know the gift. It’s huge. It’s too big. I can’t figure out what to say. If I say what I think it is and I am wrong, I might very well appear disappointed by the intended, smaller, and appropriately sized gift. I don’t even want this gift. Sure, this is something I have said for years that I want—but I want it someday. I realize at this moment that I want the vague, distant concept of this, not the concrete, immediate, tangible opportunity. If I am correct, then in the very near future, I will have to face the terrifying reality of actually doing this.
Record your music with Steve Albini in Chicago. This is also your birthday present, so don’t expect anything else in April.
Who is Steve Albini? From my point of view, the word “idol” would be appropriate. He is a prolific recording engineer and a luminary of underground rock music. Steve Albini’s work, the bands he played in, his writing, his high standards, and his lacerating wit and humor have both inspired and intimidated me for decades. He plays loud and makes loud, aggressive, intense, and challenging records.
Steve being loud (Scott Dudelson / Getty Images)
I could understand if someone felt it was safer to idolize him from a distance. But I just couldn’t help myself.
September 1990– June 1992, Columbus, OH
During my last two years of high school, I spend a lot of time working on the school newspaper and discover an interest, and perhaps a talent, for graphic design. I master the Macintosh computer, create page layouts, and design cool graphic headlines for our stories. It’s a no-brainer for me to follow this passion into college, so I decide to dive headfirst into a five-year graphic design program at the University of Cincinnati.
September 1992, Cincinnati, OH
I begin two years of study in the fundamentals of graphic design. I am surprised to learn this requires endless hours of grueling practice on simple, monotonous, and tedious drills. In this way I learn color theory and the basics of composition, form, and typography but I desperately crave a project that feels “real.”
September 1994, Cincinnati, OH
Finally, a “real” project. We are to design a logo and are free to choose any organization as our “client.” I choose a minimalist rock trio from Chicago called Shellac. Formally known as Shellac of North America, the band boasts Todd Trainer on drums, Bob Weston on bass guitar, and Steve Albini playing guitar and doing most of the vocals. Like Steve, Todd and Bob are also legends of underground rock from their previous projects. The trio formed in 1992, creating angular, abrasive, loud, and asymmetrical music. They describe their touring schedule as relaxed and sporadic, and they are not in a rush to release new music. Shellac does everything their way, and nearly perfectly. Shellac’s singular weakness is of particular interest to a young graphic design student—a weak visual identity.
For my school project, I design a Shellac logo and an entire typeface to go with it. It is a good logo, and it is a good typeface.
In the 1990’s we had to take 35mm slides of our graphic design work, this is the only remaining document of the logotype I made for Shellac.
The next obvious step is to get the logo to Steve and the band, hopefully in time for use on an upcoming release. I prepare a cover letter to explain my point of view on the situation and drop the letter and my logo into an envelope addressed to Shellac’s record label, Touch and Go records, attention: Steve Albini. Weeks pass with no response. Meanwhile, I hear about Shellac playing a show in Louisville, which is a short 90-minute drive from Cincinnati. I plan to attend with my classmate Eric.
November 1994, Louisville, KY
We find the community center where the show is happening. Kids dressed strictly in black stream in from all directions like ants swarming lost picnic morsels. So many punk kids here in Louisville! Eric and I hit the ATM, pay the cover charge, and enter the hall. It’s early, the lights are bright, and our shoes squeak on the shiny, clean gym floor. At the back of the room, three men stand apart from the gathering crowd. It’s Todd, Bob and Steve. I grab Eric by the sleeve of his black leather jacket and drag him with me as protection.
“Are you guys Shellac?” I ask, unnecessarily confirming their identities while trying to hide my nervous energy. I then introduce myself and mention that they may have received a package from me in the mail.
“Oh, you’re the pushy kid with the logotype?”
The conversation that follows is awkward and brief. The show is spectacular.
March 22, 1995, Cincinnati, OH
I am deep into my graphic design studies when I receive an official-looking envelope in the mail. It is printed on Shellac of North America letterhead. The contents are a form letter with the blank spaces filled in by hand.
Dear [Matt Beebe],
Thank you for taking notice of Shellac’s visual identity weakness. We appreciate the responses regarding this issue, but as you can imagine, the number of them we receive prevents us from responding in person.
Your [logotype] is of excellent quality, and your educators at [Cincinnati, Ohio] have every right to be proud of you. We are happy to have provided you with a subject suitable for developing your skills but regret that we have no need for professional design assistance at present.
Yours,
[Maggie Horethawpe]
Maggie Horethawpe
Administrative Assistant
Shellac of North America
Oh my. It takes a minute, but then it dawns on me that I am the target of a breathtaking prank. This response is more than I could have ever hoped for. Not responding at all would have been understandable. A simple note in an envelope with a used metal plectrum maybe? Taking the time to create a form letter for the specific purpose of responding to the pushy kid with the logotype? Mind blown, but I’m not done yet.
Still craving more “real” graphic design projects, I begin working at a music and skateboarding magazine called Strength. Contributing initially as a graphic designer, I eventually add correspondent to my responsibilities. I write about bands I like and shows I attend. I pitch to my editor-in-chief, Christian, that we should take a road trip to Chicago to interview Shellac. Christian is skeptical and clearly doubts my ability to make this happen, but he doesn’t know how pushy I am. I quickly organize a weekend that works, and we throw our duffel bags into Christian’s Jeep for our trip across Indiana to Chicagoland.
December 1995, Chicago, IL
We meet at Steve’s house, which is also his recording studio. When we arrive, Todd, Bob and Steve are rehearsing. We are taken to the attic (also the studio’s control room) where we wait for the band to take a break so we can start the interview.
The interview begins with the same awkwardness I felt when I approached them in Louisville. We have a whole conversation about the chain wallet in my pocket and attached to my belt. They do not buy my argument that the chain provides increased security. Bob thinks the only functionality is to ensure I can only lift the wallet up so far. Steve has a very large wallet that hangs halfway out of his back pocket, and he claims he’s not lost his wallet in the fifteen years since he upgraded to this XL size. Todd seems less comfortable with the attacks and rises to my defense several times. They are making fun of me, but I’m also laughing; I can’t stop smiling. Again, I am the target of their aggressive humor, but it is perfect. It’s exactly how it should be and how I want it to be. By the second half of the interview, we’ve moved past the ridicule and harassment, and I feel myself catching my stride. I am genuinely curious to know more about being in a band and to understand their approach to making music. I want to know how bands work, why they do it, and what makes music interesting to them. Of course, I will publish this interview for others to read, but this is a selfish act. I am doing this because I need to know.
As the interview draws to a close, I feel good about it. My head is spinning from spending an hour in such close proximity to these guys. Steve leads Christian and me back through his house and through what was probably initially intended to be the living room. Shelves cover every inch of wall space, and every inch of shelf is sagging under the weight of records. Thousands of records.
“Hold on a second,” Steve pauses.
He approaches a shelf and works his fingers into the stacks. He’s not a large man, so he has to put his whole body into it. He shoves open a space in the stack to access the ones he is looking for. After a few quick flips, he reaches the exact titles he is after and excavates two records from the stack.
“You should check these out.”
He hands me two Appliances SFB records. Of course, I know nothing of this band, but I can’t wait to listen and learn who they are. I am leaving Steve Albini’s house with two more records for my collection. I feel like I may have made a friend. I know he’s met many adoring fans like me, and I know my interview is just one of hundreds, but it’s very special to me. As I leave, I feel grateful for the chance to meet Steve at his home.
Christian is acting tired. He wants to drive home and not spend a second night in Chicago as we planned. He threatens to take his car and leave me in Chicago. Somehow, he convinces me to drive and then he promptly falls asleep in the passenger seat. I drive through the night and get us safely back across Indiana to Cincinnati where I return to my studies and working on the magazine. The Shellac interview appears in the April 1996 issue of Strength Magazine and it is a good interview.
February 2024, Redwood City, CA
It takes me a few weeks after Christmas morning to work up the courage, but I finally make a booking for my recording session at Electrical Audio. Electrical is the world-class facility that Steve built when he upgraded from his home recording studio where we met in 1995.
During the pandemic I started writing songs. Then I started a band, played a couple shows, lost bandmates, gained bandmates and I have managed to record a few of my songs. I’ve recorded in the drummer’s shed and in my guest room/home office. I have no idea what I am doing, but with the support of my bandmates, a team of mentors, and my family’s tolerance of the noise, I have created something I am proud of. It’s hard to convey just how significant an upgrade Electrical Audio will be from my DIY setup at home.
I could barely overcome my imposter syndrome to make the booking, and now that it’s on the calendar, the imposter syndrome is coming on hard. While I don’t feel worthy of a session of Electrical Audio I also find that I can’t help myself. I am compelled to do this. I know Steve won’t be working on my session, but I hope I will see him around the place. I will try very hard to overcome my self-doubt and do what I can on May 31st.
May 6, 2024, Chicago, IL
Steve Albini passes away. Heart attack at the age of 61.
May 7, 2024, Redwood City, CA
I get the news via text message from my friend Kirk the next morning as I am working away in my guest room/home office/DIY recording studio. I don’t think I was working on my music—more likely booking a tree-trimming service. Or maybe making myself a doctor’s appointment. Or making a little progress on a freelance design project. The day is a blur. After receiving the text, I search for corroborating evidence online. It appears to be true. But it’s unthinkable. I thought he was permanent. I have asked myself many times over the years, “What would Steve do?” This lens always pushes me to do the right thing. It influences how I run my business, how I operate my band, and how I strive to be generous and give back to my community. For over 25 years, Steve and his wife Heather spent Christmas morning delivering gifts to Chicago families in need through Heather’s charity, Letters to Santa. Shouldn’t more of us spend our Christmas mornings like that?
May 31, 2024, Chicago, IL
When I arrive at Electrical Audio, I am greeted by the friendly and enthusiastic engineer who will work on my session. It is a fantastic place, and the people I meet are kind, supportive, and helpful, but I have a raw sense that something is missing. I have a blast playing rock star for the day, and I get through my recording session with some songs I might share someday, but I didn’t get what I really came for. In recent years, when I saw Steve playing a show with Shellac or on YouTube or on a Podcast, I thought he appeared softer. I don’t mean his physical presentation (which, like mine, was also softer and less angular in recent years) but rather his demeanor. He seemed to be smiling and laughing more than I remember in the 1990s. He seemed less prickly and threatening than the man I approached on the gym floor more than twenty years prior. I wanted to meet him again and understand that a little. I wanted to see if he recognized the pushy kid with the logotype. I wanted to remind him of the form letter, the interview and the Appliances records he gave me.
Most of all, I wanted to thank him.
#ThankYouSteveAlbini
Khanna, Vish. (Host). (2015, November 12). Ep. #223: Ian MacKaye & Steve Albini (Part I) [Audio Podcast Episode]. In Kreative Kontrol. Retrieved from https://shows.acast.com/kreative-kontrol/episodes/ep.-223-ianmackaye-stevealbini-parti-
Nice piece, Matt!