In 2016, David Bowie died two days after the release of Blackstar. Leonard Cohen lasted 17 days after releasing You Want It Darker. Both albums were transmissions from the end of an artist’s life, received and understood as poignant reflections and reckonings.
Steve Albini passed away 10 days before the release of what will surely now be the final Shellac studio album, but the temptation to analyse it as a last testament is to be resisted. Unlike Bowie and Cohen, who knew their time was coming, the world lost Steve long before his time. In keeping with his attitude to his day job as a recording engineer (“I would like to be paid like a plumber,” he insisted), his band of over 30 years operated entirely without rock star mystique, approaching To All Trains the same as any of their other records.
And, like all their other records, this one is a masterclass in delivering musical precision with an undercarriage of scuzz and tension. The likes of Tattoos and Days Are Dogs retain the minimalist vision that has coursed through Shellac since their earliest releases; both would have suited 1994’s At Action Park. Cutting humour and concise storytelling remain essential lyrical impulses, with the introspective Wednesday a perfect example of the latter.