Big Black - Il Duce

(Touch and Go, 1992)

I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life – eight of them, I believe – and none were as embarrassing as my not realizing that single was first released in 1985, meaning I should have reviewed it before the other two Big Black records. Where was Wikipedia when I needed it most? I dunno, but I DO know it was there when I needed it to accurately diagnose my excruciating foot ailment. “Plantar fasciitis,” it said a week ago, and “Plantar fasciitis,” a podiatrist confirmed this morning. And this doctor wasn’t excited about listening to me or examining me, but he WAS excited to shoot a bunch of cortisone into my foot with a big ol’ needle. You fixed me but good, doc, and I even did a little lunchtime jig on my drugged-up hoof. Which brings us right back to Big Black, because this single of theirs is dedicated to Benito Mussolini, who I hear was – ready for this one? – a real HEEL. Haw! Oh man, it was worth it, the whole set up was worth it! Just like this 7” is worth whatever you pay for it: it’s AOK! Meaty drum machine (that thing ALWAYS sounded fantastic and brutal); distorted guitar splinters that move through and around each other in interesting melodies; effects-laden Li’l Satan vocals; that black sense of humor (“I am Benito/And I like my job”)…it’s all here. “Il Duce” is grinding menace while “Big Money” goes for a faster sort of white-knuckled nervousness, but both get the job done with impressive economy, pummeling you for about two minutes before stopping dead. As solid a representation of Big Black as you’re gonna find – and the A-side isn’t widely available otherwise – so why not pony up?

Big Black - He's A Whore

(Touch and Go, 1987)

It’s covers aplenty (two) on each and every side (two) of this single. Squealing shards o’ guitar over that piledriving rhythmic chunka-chunka turns Cheap Trick’s “He’s a Whore” into something a whole lot uglier than it usedta be AND GOOD GRAVY STEVE ALBINI DRESSED AS ROBIN ZANDER IS A DEAD RINGER FOR DAVID LEE ROTH. Yikes! Wow! WEIRD! All right, I’ve calmed down. EXCEPT WAIT THAT GUY ON THE LEFT LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE MY HIGH SCHOOL CHEMISTRY LABMATE WHO LATER GOT THROWN IN THE CLINK FOR TRYING TO TAKE AN UNDERAGED BOY OVER STATE LINES!! SHEESH! OK. OK. OK. I think I’m done now. I am. So: “The Model” gets the distorto-fuzz treatment on the B, and the looser, noisier approach brings out the lyrics’ near-contempt for the vapid subject – something that is rather lost in Kraftwerk’s icy original. This is a gimmicky disc in both content and wrapper, sure, but an entertaining enough detour into tributetown to earn a salute from these quarters.

Big Black - Heartbeat

(Touch and Go, 1987)

I saw the Big Black reunion show in Chicago a few years ago, and I remember two things, one general and one specific. General memory: The music was totally intense and tightly-wound. Specific memory: Some guy yelled, “Albini, you’re a fuckin’ fag!,” really, really loudly. Anyway, it was all exciting enough to light a fire under my wallet and get me to finally buy up the entire discography as quickly as I could. Good thing, too, cuz these discs are a swift kick to every buttock that encounters ’em, each one a nasty little addition to your record heap. Take this single, for example, which rocks its shit in three distinct ways. “Heartbeat,” a Wire cover, isn’t as grinding as most Big Black material; this one is all about jagged, slashing guitar that’s rhythmic enough to approach chug, though unlike the Wire version, the effect is less a heartbeat than it is a jackhammer. Might as well point out that when he works himself up into a howling frenzy, Albini’s shredded vocal on here is startlingly Cobain-esque. Pre-Cobain. We’re on more familiar turf with the pounding, near-industrial relentlessness of “Things to Do Today,” but I’ll dock the band a few points for those tinny vocals, which don’t nearly pull their weight as they get overwhelmed by the muscular musical backing. Then, to wrap things up, it’s a quick burst of metallic rockabilly instrumental fun (“I Can’t Believe”), which, while tight, feels like a throwaway rehearsal jam. An impressively varied single, this, all of it heavy in different fashions… like a bully that can kick you around in new and creative ways every day of the week. Oh, and remember, you: It’s all compiled on The Rich Man’s Eight Track Tape, so that’s probably the most efficient way to get your mitts on this stuff.