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To All Trains
To All Trains in Bloomington, MN
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Size: CD
Shellac
's 2024 album
To All Trains
was clearly not meant to be the band's final statement or a grand summation of their musical and intellectual philosophies, but it has been thrust into the curious position of being read as just that by a cruel turn of fate.
Steve Albini
,
's guitarist, primary vocalist and songwriter, and their first among equals, died unexpectedly on May 7, 2024, ten days before
was released. At least on first listen, it's practically impossible to listen to the music without hearing it through the filter of grief, which is odd, since this is music that sounds muscular, vital, and very much alive.
' ten songs zip by in a breezy 28 minutes, and it lacks a grand-scale tour de force like "The End of Radio" from 2007's
Excellent Italian Greyhound
or "Didn't We Deserve a Look at You the Way You Really Are" from 1998's
Terraform
. This is
as a lean, mean math rock machine, and the concision of the songs makes this a breathless, energetic listening experience. This music cuts to the chase, and
Albini
's abrasive, hot-wired leads,
Bob Weston
's rubbery, deeply rooted bass lines, and
Todd Trainer
's drumming, at once precise and intent on exploring all rhythmic possibilities, are well served by this approach. This is the fiercest LP in
's catalog, and once again they've delivered a master class in dynamics and how a trio can play together; each voice and instrument stands out, fitting together with an efficiency so well executed it takes a few spins to absorb how entertaining, exciting, and yes, fun, they can be. Lyrically, these ten tracks are loaded with jaundiced wit and purposeful venom, as they celebrate karaoke, female new wave bands, urban scrap salvagers, and an inflatable icon of organized labor and shake their heads at self-obsession and malignant hubris of all sorts.
(who takes the bulk of the lead vocals) inhabits or comments upon his characters with the zeal and shading of a great actor. (Listeners are allowed to read what they will into the last song being titled "I Don't Fear Hell," an unsurprising perspective from the singer's world view.) Within
's sonic universe,
is all bangers, kicking out their trademark jams in
-style high fidelity and dashing off the stage before we entirely notice they're gone. Knowing it's essentially impossible to replace
in this band, even if
and
continue to make music together (and given how good they are, one hopes they will),
is almost certainly the final
album, but it isn't a maudlin curtain call. It's a document of a happily uncompromising band living out their vision and loving their art, and on that level, it's as good a place as any to appreciate their (and his) singular brilliance. And it rocks. ~ Mark Deming
's 2024 album
To All Trains
was clearly not meant to be the band's final statement or a grand summation of their musical and intellectual philosophies, but it has been thrust into the curious position of being read as just that by a cruel turn of fate.
Steve Albini
,
's guitarist, primary vocalist and songwriter, and their first among equals, died unexpectedly on May 7, 2024, ten days before
was released. At least on first listen, it's practically impossible to listen to the music without hearing it through the filter of grief, which is odd, since this is music that sounds muscular, vital, and very much alive.
' ten songs zip by in a breezy 28 minutes, and it lacks a grand-scale tour de force like "The End of Radio" from 2007's
Excellent Italian Greyhound
or "Didn't We Deserve a Look at You the Way You Really Are" from 1998's
Terraform
. This is
as a lean, mean math rock machine, and the concision of the songs makes this a breathless, energetic listening experience. This music cuts to the chase, and
Albini
's abrasive, hot-wired leads,
Bob Weston
's rubbery, deeply rooted bass lines, and
Todd Trainer
's drumming, at once precise and intent on exploring all rhythmic possibilities, are well served by this approach. This is the fiercest LP in
's catalog, and once again they've delivered a master class in dynamics and how a trio can play together; each voice and instrument stands out, fitting together with an efficiency so well executed it takes a few spins to absorb how entertaining, exciting, and yes, fun, they can be. Lyrically, these ten tracks are loaded with jaundiced wit and purposeful venom, as they celebrate karaoke, female new wave bands, urban scrap salvagers, and an inflatable icon of organized labor and shake their heads at self-obsession and malignant hubris of all sorts.
(who takes the bulk of the lead vocals) inhabits or comments upon his characters with the zeal and shading of a great actor. (Listeners are allowed to read what they will into the last song being titled "I Don't Fear Hell," an unsurprising perspective from the singer's world view.) Within
's sonic universe,
is all bangers, kicking out their trademark jams in
-style high fidelity and dashing off the stage before we entirely notice they're gone. Knowing it's essentially impossible to replace
in this band, even if
and
continue to make music together (and given how good they are, one hopes they will),
is almost certainly the final
album, but it isn't a maudlin curtain call. It's a document of a happily uncompromising band living out their vision and loving their art, and on that level, it's as good a place as any to appreciate their (and his) singular brilliance. And it rocks. ~ Mark Deming
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