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You needed to take an old commercial lift up a trip of staircases to reach this Baltimore stockroom where the program was happening in October 1998, and also when the moaning equipment raised your body up, it still seemed like you were sinking.
When the doors opened up, Shellac got on the opposite side, with his large amps and terrifying wit, and if you fell short to recognize that you were currently in the deep end, you must have stayed at home. The team’s leader, singer-guitarist Steve Albini, got on phase with a guitar strapped to his body. Like a device belt around the waistline, which immediately makes all the electrical guitarist in the background of rock-‘n’-roll appear like school children with a knapsack slung over their shoulders. Unlike Chuck Berry or Greg Ginn, Albini rejected to be cowed down by his tool, grasping the neck of his guitar similarly an assassin may bring a blade in a blade battle. Once they began playing, they transformed the battle right into an existential one, debunking the world’s fraud. I keep in mind being 19, attempting to handle that terrifying noise, attempting to be the reverse of fraudulence.
