Pitchfork

Hype is like a 40oz can of Mountain Dew, chilled and chugged in about 14 seconds-- it gets you bouncing off the walls like a squirrel on crystal meth. So say you're waiting for the new Shellac record for, oh, four years, since Uberproducers Steve Albini and Bob Weston were off twiddling knobs and moving mics in studios with Bush, June of 44, etc. Finally you get your mitts on it.

You rush home, fueled on hype. You throw it on your turntable (because the CD isn't out yet-- Shellac likes vinyl). You crank up the volume enough to put the cat on the ceiling. Then Shellac proceeds to play the same 2-note riff for about a year. The hype goes flaccid. Now you're grumpy because the caffeine kept you from sleeping and you have that post-sugar drain. Sleepy. Must slee... wait! Shellac starts cranking riffs that would make metalheads cower in the corner. Albini has his trademark aluminum clank guitar. Todd Trainer beats his drums so primally, you'd swear he's only wearing a loincloth. Bob Weston's bass is deeper than the Titanic. If Shellac were to replaced with Marvel Superheros, they would be Todd=Hulk, Bob=Havok the X-man, Steve=Quicksilver... wait... it goes back to the same two notes again for another fortnight. So that's the first song. Then the jams kick in.

Shellac's angular thunder has taken a turn to the more melodic? Perhaps. Albini's voice now slips into whisper, as in the spooky "This is a Picture," where he sings, "There are angels there/ you know where they keep angels/ heaven, that's where." His guitar work is nothing short of revolutionary. Forget his production jobs, the guy can work a guitar like Bob Vila can hammer. Hmmm... maybe hype ain't such a bad thing. Terraform takes a while to develop, and somehow comes out a concept album. Ah, who cares, just know that there is no band that can move Earth like Shellac.