Big Black- "Lungs" EP

Big Black
"Lungs" EP
Ruthless Records
1982

Already notorious in the underground zine scene, Mr. Steve Albini first reared his ugly, scrawny neck in the world of recorded sound with this little artifact from 1986. A student at Northwestern University in Illinois, Albini said he’d often wonder the campus listening to nothing but his drum machine, pulsating endlessly in his ears. This in turn was what inspired Albini to form Big Black.

As the infamous tale goes, Albini borrowed his friend’s 4-track over spring break. Reparations for abusing the 4-track? A case of beer to the owner. Over that weekend, with Roland his trusty drum machine, and a trebled-out guitar, Albini made “Lungs,” a 6 song, bleak industrial nightmare.

While the one man show is not as layered, or hard hitting as future Big Black efforts, it’s nevertheless a damn near disturbing experience in spots and quite interesting when mirrored against other Big Black records. The EP often gets panned, including a big "fuck you" from Albini himself. However, the gap between fruition and future triumphs is staggering. “Lungs” is about as bare-bones as you can get, with the cold reverb of the drum machine steadily beating on, guitar gulps and gurgles stinging the ear, and Albini howling like a mad man in a pitch black room pondering his future clock-tower shootings. Some of the tracks come off sounding a little like deranged new-wave, unfortunately. “Dead Billy’s” guitar line sounds kind of synthy, as does the guitar in “I Can Be Killed,” coupled with its minimalist dancey beat. Not the Big Black one’s usually accustomed to.

And of course, there’s Albini’s lyrics. Future recordings would be a showcase for Albini’s sick and twisted observations on society, often spliced with wry, angry jokes that’d make a mother weep. On “Lungs” however falls a bit shot of first prize wordsmith. “Come on, come on, come on, shut me up/Try to keep me quiet/That's the only way/To shut me up” Albini pleads on “I Can Be Killed.” Ehhh, not his most poignant stuff. However, “Steelworker” is a particularly great opener, one that would be played live for years, that contains future Albini-like lyrical madness. “I'm a steelworker, I kill what I eat/I'm a, I'm a bricklayer, I kill what I eat.” Won’t exactly win you a poetry scholarship, but the lyrics are indicative of the disgusting, seedy underbelly of Americana that Albini so seamlessly uproots.

While the future records would showcase the Big Black sound to a fuller degree, and become more nihilistic and furious, “Lungs” is pretty damn cool. It’s a daring beginning made by a man who doesn’t give two shits whether you, or he, liked it or not.

6/10