Shellac - To All Trains

Albini’s last stand. Such is the way of the world, the original pressing of To All Trains, what I'd assume is to be the final Shellac album (although you never know, there's a Record Store Day every year) was immediately out of print as soon as news of his death was reported. The you-only-miss-them-when-they’re-gone/famous-when-dead platitudes that riddle rock discourse don't really apply here -  Albini was a lot of things, but he certainly wasn't easy to miss. His fingerprints are everywhere, his voice stark, clear, unmistakable. That's as true as ever on To All Trains, whether he'd lived to see it's success or not. And really, it's strange to think of Albini dying of a heart attack when the last music he recorded sounded so vital, so lean, so fucking efficient! Rude of health even, dare it be said. It's also the shortest Shellac record, a to-the-point, stop fucking around heater, dusted with trademark Albini snark/smarts and the hardest hitting hardcore rhythm section there was or perhaps ever will be. They played fast and hard because there's always stuff to be done (and tellingly, it was all recorded over protracted sessions across a five year period). And, as it turns out they were right, time was against them. Albini didn't 'do a Bowie' with To All Trains (it does not scan like a final state-of-play communique and I don't think there's evidence to suggest he was cognizant of the encroaching end), but as closing statements go, it's tough to imagine anything more appropriate than 'I Don't Fear Hell'. Apparently the floor show down there is incredible. We'll have to settle for Too All Trains until it's our turn to find out.