- 1000 Hurts - Mudmag (www.mudmag.co.uk)

Some of you who regularly check mudmag might have noticed the fondness with which we refer to certain bands. We are thoroughly biased towards the things we love. You may have also noticed, in the All Tomorrow's Parties review, that while most bands got a column inch or so, mudmag's ex-web designer gave Shellac a full four paragraphs, and he was being succinct. The thing is, some bands just crave to be written about. Give me a Robbie Williams single and its hard to get more than a sentence out of me. Give me this record and you'll find it hard to shut me up. For those of you who are new to the work of Steve Albini (and I think that this will be the first of his records that many people will buy), he was a fanzine writer in the early eighties before forming the infamous Big Black. After splitting them up, he formed the short lived Rapeman, then in the mid nineties he formed his best band to date, Shellac. He has a reputation for being a little awkward, but is hailed by many as a sort of alternative rock hero. However, Steve's probably most famous for his day job - as a recording engineer. His production credits include Slint, PJ Harvey, The Pixies and Bush (no prizes for guessing the odd one out). But Shellac is a three piece - bassist Bob 'Rusty' Weston, who is a producer himself, and Todd Trainer, ex-Rifle Sport, provide the most thrilling rhythm section you're ever likely to hear.

'1000 Hurts' manages to astonish you before you even play it. The vinyl comes in a reel to reel tape box. Open it up and you find a free CD. Of the album. All I can say is 'Thanks'!

If 1995's 'At Action Park' was the record that made most of your record collection seem redundant in the face of such raw bravado, then the lacklustre dynamic experimentation of most of 1997's 'Terraform' made Shellac's first record seem like a one-off. '1000 Hurts' proves this gloriously wrong. In fact at the moment I think its better than either of them. The unorthodoxies sit nicely inside the basic rock trio format, rather than exercising themselves just for the heck of it. Every other bar or two, 'Squirrel Song's opening riff keeps you waiting one extra crunch till your head nods again, your teeth grinding to nothing against Todd's tremendous thump. Never before has it been so difficult to resist the urge to air guitar. The rigid structure of every track, and the apposition of the instruments, is astonishing. During the opening section of 'Watch Song', guitar, drums, and bass seem to be arguing amongst themselves for attention (drums win), until more important issues take over (consumer discontent regarding the sale of a faulty watch). 'Shoe Song' and 'Mama Gina' are like nothing they've ever recorded, and could only really be compared to two of Albini's contemporaries, but Slint don't make records any more and some would argue Sonic Youth shouldn't either.

There isn't a bad song in this record. This is the album that will make Big Black known as 'the band that Shellac's Steve Albini was in' rather than vice versa. Steve, give up your day job.

10 / 10