Big Black always tend to be remembered more for their influence than for their actual output. Their howling, trebly sound has left a profound mark on both the noise rock and industrial scenes. They're also one of the few bands of note out there who not only got away with using a drum machine in place of an actual drummer, but benefited from it. But that's all most people give 'em points for, and even worse is on top of the widespread ignorance of their actual body of work, most of the cred they do get all seems to slant towards their final album, Songs About Fucking. Now, I'm not knocking Songs, it's a pretty solid disc, but the songwriting isn't their strongest and most of its appeal lies in its low-fi recording and outrageous album art.
Although far from their first walk in the park, Atomizer is their first LP and by far the strongest recording in their catalogue. The band themselves think quite highly of the disc (going as far as to warn listeners that their following EP was "not as good as Atomizer, so don't get your hopes up") and they make frequent mention of 1986 being their most solid year for musical output. Listening to the album makes it pretty apparent they aren't bullshitting. Noticeably louder than the infamously "loud" Songs, Atomizer is a chaotic mess of thrashing drum beats, strange guitar tones and shouted vocals. It also showcases the band's ability to craft strong hooks and memorable choruses.
Kicking off with slamming drums and Albini's chilling shrieks, "Jordan, Minnesota" wastes no time and goes for the throat in every sense applicable. Fierce and offensive, Albini himself said it best when he described it as a song about "this group of people, which is literally about a third of the adult population of this town, Jordan, Minnesota, who were involved in this elaborate kid fucking ring". The throbbing beat is a perfect accompaniment for the nigh-chanted lyrics. Albini goes out of his way to use his voice to add to the shock factor, with his delivery described by guitarist Santiago Durango as sounding like "those kids being raped".
Then, like a bullet train slamming to a halt, "Passing Complexion" rockets in. The melody is bizarre, very unlike any guitar tone I've heard before but definitely a guitar. Lyrically, Albini one again finds a sensitive topic to scream about, this time race relations. "In certain circumstances," Albini said of the song, "a man could prefer to lose his entire heritage, when another more comfortable one presents itself. especially if he plays piano. especially if it's 1926". Based on a radio inteview he'd heard once about the black maid of a white family wet nursing the white children and still being treated poorly, Albini seems to have a deep belief in the unfairness of this situation and even in his usually offensive lyrics he treats the topic with a fair amount of subtlety. "Big Money" by comparison almost entirely avoids depth and instead presents a simple tale of a cop who goes around using his authority for kicks, not too much to remark on musically either aside from a fuzzy to the point of inaudible guitar tone.
The fourth track, "Kerosene", is one of the band's most enduring songs. A big, singable chorus, some great riffs and a general "fuck you, life" attitude. Albini's take on the song is something entirely different from most others. "While the band was active, much ado was made about the "pork roast" nature of the subject of this song. The lyrics were an afterthought, actually, and were originally about either race car driving or frog gigging, I forget which." While it's doubtful the song really is that unsubstantial, the lyrics pretty much explicitly imply it's a semi-autobiographical about the tedium of everyday life as a youth in a small town (he spent his youth in Missoula, Montana, far from the most exciting place) with the self-immolation plea in the chorus merely being a melodramatic statement about the boredom he suffers. The dissonant "Bad Houses" has to be one of my favourite Big Black tracks of all time and it's one you rarely hear much about. It has very low key guitar and vocal work here, but a gorgeous melody and powerful if simple lyrics. "I tell myself I will not go, even as I drive there" in particular strikes me every time I hear it. "We do things, bad things, and go places, bad places," said Albini, "even when the thrill is seldom worth the degradation. maybe we associate it with the thrill, and after a while, they become inseparable. then the thrill becomes secondary."
"Fists of Love" once again brings out the terse and offensive Albini, "take expression of emotion to its physical end. until the expressions take on meanings of their own. they become almost rituals in their gravity. fist fucking, wife beating, whatever." The slow pace of the song give it an almost Swans-y feel (note: slow pace by Big Black standards is still about 25 times faster than anything Michael Gira has ever composed) and the vocals really hit you in the face (was trying to avoid a pun here, but it's the best way to put it, really). He then turns to more philosophical territory with "Stinking Drunk", "if you haven't been for a while (a long while), then the reasons you quit lose focus. you forget the sensations that used to be all-important. then curiosity overcomes you.". The ponderous nature of the lyrics is offset by the thrash of the band, the drums lock into a steady groove and thud along while the guitars trade squeals and drones over Albini's frantic shouts.
"Bazooka Joe" is entrancing, with its bizarre chanted vocals. Ol' Joe came back from the war and doesn't seem to quite fit into society, so he struggles to find his place in the world. Albini seems to have little to say about this track, sadly, but with a close listen it pretty much speaks for itself. The wordless "Strange Things" thuds along with a pounding beat and sports night "HEY!" shouts. The album closes itself with a live version of "Cables" from the Bulldozer EP. Written about a particularly sadistic friend's obsession with visiting slaughterhouses, "Cables" is dark and grimy sounding even by Big Black's standards, and this live presentation offers up an almost totally nonmusical wall of guitar noise to top it off.
Atomizer is the tragically forgotten gem of 80s noise. Its lyrics have more to say than the rest of Albini's material from the era, its arrangements are more complex and tuneful than Songs About Fucking and it's also a fuckload louder than BB's other work. Sure, it might not have the trebly extremes of "Precious Thing", but overall it's got a much more aggressive mix and packs one hell of a wallop at any volume. It's sad to know that during their reunion concert in 2006 they didn't play a single tune off this excellent disc, and if live recordings are anything to go by Atomizer tracks were a rarity at live even back when it came out. If you are in any way interested in the extreme side of 80s underground or a fan of Albini's modern work, you'd be a fool not to check this shit out.
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