\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/p><\/div>\n<\/p><\/div> \t\t\t\t\tAlbini and Whinna in an undated Polaroid snapshot<\/span><\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tCourtesy of Heather Whinna<\/cite><\/p>\n<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n \n\tWhen he popped the question, she replied, \u201cYes, of course. But why?\u201d They had already been together for 16 years. She laughs as she remembers what happened next:\u00a0 \u201cThen he left me there,\u201d she says, recalling that he was on his way to Italy. \u201cLike, fucking only Steve would think this is a normal thing to do: Propose and then leave. Bye.\u201d That scene, with its lack of a socially appropriate response even when asking her to marry him, echoes the terms in which many in Albini\u2019s orbit remember him. He was eccentric. He was immensely talented. He was not easily understood.\u00a0<\/p>\n \t\tEditor\u2019s picks<\/p>\n<\/h2>\n<\/section>\n \n\tWhen Whinna and Albini met in 1993, it was just a few months after the release of Nirvana\u2019s In Utero<\/em>, which Albini recorded. His reputation \u2014 both his skill as an engineer and his acerbic personality \u2014 preceded him. Even though she knew of <\/em>him, she didn\u2019t immediately make the connection.<\/p>\n \n\tHer first encounters with Albini were at the Chicago music venue Empty Bottle. A cartoonist who knew them both introduced her to his friend Steve, who told her, \u201cYou smell pretty.\u201d Later that evening, he asked her, \u201cDo you know what you need?\u201d She responded sarcastically: \u201cOh, tell me. What do I need?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n \n\t\u201cHe said, \u2018You need a boyfriend who\u2019s monogamous and has a steady income,’\u201d she recalls. \u201cHoly shit, do you know my life?\u201d Apparently, he did. At the time, Whinna was working as a night manager at a suburban comedy club, struggling, broke, and fighting often with her then-boyfriend.<\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t \t\t\t\t\tAlbini in 1993.<\/span><\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tGail Butensky<\/cite><\/p>\n<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n \n\tNot long after that, they went to a diner across from the now-shuttered venue Lounge Ax on what turned out to be their first date. \u201cI still didn\u2019t know this was Steve Albini,\u201d she says. \u201cWe were talking for a while, and he was a smart-ass. And I was like, \u2018Who\u2019s this guy?’\u201d But then the Smashing Pumpkins drove up. \u201cSteve started making fun of them. And I was like, \u2018Oh, no. This is Steve Albini<\/em>,’\u201d she whispers dramatically.<\/p>\n \t\tRelated Content<\/p>\n<\/h2>\n<\/section>\n \n\tThey dated for a few months, and, in 1994, they became exclusive. They lived at the Chicago bungalow where Albini had built his famed home studio on Francisco Ave. and later moved into an apartment inside Electrical Audio in \u201996, while it was still being built. They\u2019d spend nearly two decades there before buying a home together.<\/p>\n \n\tWhinna got as close a view as anyone of his personality in the early days of their relationship. \u201cHe was super smart, and he treated me very well, but he would say inappropriate shit,\u201d she says. Shortly after they began dating, he used a racial slur at a restaurant. \u201c\u2018Just so you know, when someone comes and kicks your ass, I\u2019m gonna be holding the door open for them,’\u201d she warned him. \u201cHe was really shocked, and he\u2019s like, \u2018I just think it sounds funny.\u2019 \u2018But, well, it\u2019s not funny, and it\u2019s not funny to those people either,’\u201d she told him. \u201cIt took him a really long time to understand that.\u201d Eventually, he did.<\/p>\n \n\tKurt Cobain famously said he could overlook Albini\u2019s negativity if the engineer could deliver a great-sounding album, which Albini did time and again<\/a>. His goal was always to capture the live sound of a band with no studio tricks, simply capturing a raw representation of the music. By the middle of his career, Albini estimated he\u2019d already recorded thousands of releases, each with its own signature bite, a sound only he seemed able to hear and capture.<\/p>\n \n\tIn the year following Albini\u2019s death, Rolling Stone <\/em>spoke with <\/strong>dozens of people who knew him best, including Whinna; Albini\u2019s mother and brother; the Electrical Audio staff; and Albini\u2019s bandmates in Shellac<\/a>, Rapeman, and Big Black<\/a>. Many of the artists Albini recorded, including PJ Harvey and members of Pixies, the Breeders, the Jesus Lizard, Low, Sunn0))), and others told us how working with him impacted their lives and changed their worldview, and how he evolved as well.<\/p>\n \n\tWHEN STEVE WAS growing up, the Albini family moved often due to his father\u2019s job in wildfire research. Frank and Gina Albini already had two children \u2014 the eldest, Marty (now a mechanical engineer), and middle child Mona (an accountant, who declined to speak with RS<\/em> for this article) \u2014 when Steve was born in Pasadena, California, on July 22, 1962. They zig-zagged across the country before settling in Missoula, Montana.<\/p>\n \n\t\u201cHis mouth got him into trouble a lot of times, because he would say whatever he thought,\u201d his mother says.\u00a0<\/p>\n \n\tSteve was a small kid, which led to him being picked on. He had many interests \u2014 model rockets, drawing, baseball, magic shows, and later, acting and photography. \u201cSteve would get fascinated by some hobby or project or topic and focus intensely on it for a year or two or three, and then just drop it,\u201d Marty says.\u00a0<\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t \t\t\t\t\t2nd grade<\/span><\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tCourtesy of the Albini Family<\/cite><\/p>\n<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t \t\t\t\t\t7th grade<\/span><\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tCourtesy of the Albini Family<\/cite><\/p>\n<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t \t\t\t\t\t11th grade<\/span><\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tCourtesy of the Albini Family<\/cite><\/p>\n<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n \n\tThe kids grew up hearing their parents\u2019 folk music records, and Steve played the clarinet for a while, but at Hellgate High School, he discovered the Ramones. At first, he and his friends thought the founding fathers of New York punk sounded silly. \u201cGradually over time there was something magnetic about that \ufb01rst Ramones album that made me play it again and \u2026 I realized that it was actually the greatest record that was ever made and that actually that\u2019s how I wanted to live my life \u2014 being a goofball with a bunch of my friends and writing offensive and absurd music,\u201d Steve later recalled.<\/p>\n \n\tWhen Steve was 17, he broke his leg in a motorcycle accident. While recuperating, he taught himself bass, and by the summer before his senior year, he formed a band called Just Ducky, which included his friend Heather Gonsior. \u201cIt was probably Missoula\u2019s first punk rock<\/a> band,\u201d she says. \u201cWe were absolutely terrible, but we had a lot of fun.\u201d<\/p>\n \n\tWhile in high school, Steve received multiple death threats, which were mostly over the record reviews that he wrote for the high school newspaper, Marty says.\u00a0<\/p>\n \n\tAt home, the kids\u2019 relationship with Frank was complicated. Marty says their dad was \u201cloving, strict at times.\u201d He adds: \u201cHe [was] a high-functioning alcoholic. We were kind of afraid of him. He was never violent, but he was a very smart man, very caustic wit, and if that was [aimed at] you, it stung.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n \n\tAround 2000, Gina says Steve surprised Frank with a written tribute over Thanksgiving. \u200b\u200b\u201dThat\u2019s when he told his father that he had [legally] taken his name, Frank, as his middle name. My husband was so touched.\u201d (Frank died of cancer in 2005.)\u00a0<\/p>\n \n\tIn 1980, at 18, Steve left Missoula to attend Northwestern University\u2019s Medill School of Journalism in Chicago\u2019s Evanston suburb. This was the career his mom thought he\u2019d continue. \u201cI was surprised when he found music that he would keep it up for this long, because I thought something else is going to come along.\u201d<\/p>\n \n\tAt Northwestern, Albini quickly befriended the members of a campus band called Urge Overkill. Singer-guitarist Nash Kato worked with Albini at the Daily Northwestern,<\/em> and they bonded over their shared acerbic humor. \u201cThey didn\u2019t care who they pissed off,\u201d says Urge Overkill\u2019s Eddie \u201cKing\u201d Roeser. (Kato declined to speak for this story.) Roeser remembers Albini behaving like a rock star, \u201cin terms of having a style of his own, having confidence, and knowing that he had the powers of super-intelligence that other people his age just didn\u2019t have.\u201d<\/p>\n \n\tAlbini supported himself by working 14-hour days as a photo retoucher, and Kato became his assistant. With a DIY<\/a> mindset, Albini funneled cash from his day job into music pursuits that included recording Urge Overkill\u2019s early music at a local studio. \u201cWe were fortunate to have Steve right there at the time when he figured out how to record bands,\u201d Roeser says. \u201cI think he just wanted to learn how to do it.\u201d<\/p>\n \n\tBY THE MID-EIGHTIES, Albini was making a name for himself with the persona of a gangly, foul-mouthed creep basking in the worst in humanity. His band, Big Black, played frenetic art-punk screeds about child abuse (\u201cJordan, Minnesota\u201d), pyromania (\u201cKerosene\u201d), and gory executions (\u201cColombian Necktie\u201d). He played guitar with a metal plectrum, so his riffs sounded brittle when compared to bandmate Santiago Durango\u2019s own brawny guitar assaults and the robotic battery of Big Black\u2019s drum machine, which they nicknamed Roland.<\/p>\n \n\tAt the same time, Albini also penned sardonic, wantonly obnoxious editorials for zines like Forced Exposure <\/em>and later mouthed off to media about musicians he didn\u2019t like (including his friends\u2019 bands). \u201cHe used to write these incredible tour journals,\u201d Jawbreaker\u2019s Blake Schwarzenbach recalls. \u201cOne was about being really horny in Germany and trying to find a woman who looks like a male Hitler youth.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t \t\t\t\t\tBig Black in 1986<\/span><\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tGail Butensky<\/cite><\/p>\n<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n \n\tAlbini indulged his shtick offstage, too. \u201cWhen you came to his house, he\u2019d put on some video of people shooting off their own feet or nailing their balls to a piece of wood and trying to walk around,\u201d former Slint guitarist David Pajo says.\u00a0Albini attempted to give a record the wildly offensive title Hey N\u2014er<\/em> around this time, but his bandmates refused.\u00a0<\/p>\n \n\tAs cringy and deliberately distasteful as all this reads today, Albini\u2019s antics attracted an audience. The crowd for Big Black\u2019s final bow<\/a> in Seattle included Soundgarden\u2019s Kim Thayil, Mudhoney\u2019s Mark Arm, and Nirvana\u2019s Kurt Cobain. And Touch and Go Records, Big Black\u2019s label, reported in 2006 that the band\u2019s second and final album, Songs About Fucking, <\/em>was its biggest-selling album in 1987 and each subsequent year.<\/p>\n \n\tAlbini\u2019s next band put a bluesy, more groove-oriented spin on Big Black\u2019s snarl, but the band name he picked \u2014 Rapeman, taken from a Japanese manga \u2014 repelled potential fans. \u201cBelieve me, we had other options, and that\u2019s the one that he chose,\u201d says Rapeman drummer Rey Washam, who regrets the moniker. \u201cEverybody that we told the band name to went, \u2018Oh, my God. Are you serious?’\u201d<\/p>\n \n\tDecades later, Albini had second thoughts about his most infamous band name. \u201cYou know, I can\u2019t defend that choice,\u201d he told Rolling Stone<\/em><\/a> in 2014. \u201cI\u2019m proud of the band, I\u2019m proud of the music we made. I can\u2019t defend the name, but I\u2019m also not willing to apologize for it.\u201d<\/p>\n \n\tIn spite of the controversy, Albini also established a new career for himself on the other side of the mixing desk. In the mid-Eighties, his Urge Overkill and Pussy Galore sessions were done cheaply and quickly, which led to more work. By the mid-2000s, he estimated he\u2019d helmed between 1,500 and 2,000 albums.\u00a0<\/p>\n \n\tThe record that made his legend, Pixies\u2019 Surfer Rosa<\/em>, arrived in 1988. The guitars snarled and buzzed, and the vocals \u2014 Black Francis\u2019 screaming on \u201cBroken Face\u201d and crooning on \u201cWhere Is My Mind?\u201d and Kim Deal\u2019s mezzo-soprano on \u201cGigantic\u201d \u2014 surrounded listeners. \u201cThe Pixies were a little, dinky-sounding band, and [our label] wanted us to be a little more ra, ra, ra,<\/em> and they got that with Steve Albini,\u201d says Francis. The album massively influenced the artists whom Albini recorded later, from Nirvana to PJ Harvey.\u00a0<\/p>\n \n\tAround this time, he was embracing the art of studio experimentation. For Slint\u2019s Tweez<\/em>, he dangled mics from the ceiling and swung them around singer-guitarist Brian McMahan\u2019s ears, and the group made their own \u201cgigantic tape loop,\u201d using pencils to stretch out the tape. For the Jesus Lizard\u2019s \u201cNub,\u201d frontman David Yow laid on his back with a mic over his chest. Albini attached another to a stand close to Yow\u2019s mouth and suspended a third from the ceiling. \u201cWhen we started recording, I would throw that microphone a little bit, so that it would circle around me during the duration of the song,\u201d Yow says. \u201cThe phase would be constantly shifting.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t \t\t\t\t\tAlbini, pictured in 1991, loved to cook.<\/span><\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tGail Butensky<\/cite><\/p>\n<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n \n\tThe Pixies\u2019 Deal, who went on to ask Albini to record her other band, the Breeders, struck up a long-lasting friendship with the engineer due to his openness. \u201cHe would answer questions [about technology] in plain English, and then he would probably say something funny afterwards,\u201d she recalls. Similarly, he built PJ Harvey\u2019s confidence while tracking 1993\u2019s Rid of Me<\/em>. \u201cHe would say, \u2018I\u2019m just recording this, but you made these songs,’\u201d Harvey says.<\/p>\n \n\tMeanwhile, Albini returned to making his own music around 1992, playing with drummer Todd Trainer. \u201cHe said, \u2018Did you ever think you\u2019d be in a band when you were 28?’\u201d Trainer recalls. \u201cThat [age] seemed absolutely obsolete, especially from a punk-rock perspective.\u201d Eventually, Bob Weston, a bassist\/recording engineer, joined the group to round out what Albini dubbed Shellac. \u201cHe loved the name because it was one of the only industrial products made from an insect<\/a>,\u201d Weston says.\u00a0<\/p>\n \n\tTruly DIY, the trio planned tours around the weather, positioned Trainer in the front of the stage to save soundchecking time, and never signed contracts. \u201cSteve liked a lot of super abrasive, crazy music that I\u2019d never be interested in \u2014 just total noise,\u201d Weston recalls. \u201cI was into ELO, and Todd was super into stadium rock. I think we all shared a huge love for punk, post-punk, and hard rock like Led Zeppelin, AC\/DC, or ZZ Top.\u201d It added up to songs that could be both cutting and sarcastic, like the ruthlessly heavy \u201cPrayer to God,\u201d on which Albini beseeches God to smite the woman who jilted him, as well as the man who lured her from him. \u201cMake him cry like a woman,\u201d Albini sings. \u201cNo particular woman.\u201d<\/p>\n \n\t\u201cI think a lot of people always thought Shellac were scary and mean,\u201d Weston says, \u201cand we always thought the band was absurd, ridiculous, fun, and funny.\u201d<\/p>\n \n\tWhen Nirvana approached Albini about recording their follow-up to Nevermind<\/em>, he responded with a four-page fax insisting they \u201cbang a record out in a couple of days, with high quality but minimal \u2018production\u2019 and no interference from the front-office bulletheads.\u201d He also refused royalties, accepting only a reported $100,000 flat fee for an album that could have made him millions. \u201cWe had to prove ourselves to Steve,\u201d bassist Krist Novoselic said in 2013. \u201cSo we went in there and we busted out \u2018Serve the Servants\u2019 in one take.\u201d<\/p>\n \n\tAlthough Nirvana\u2019s label did, indeed, complain about Albini\u2019s bleeding-raw production, and Cobain later allowed R.E.M. producer Scott Litt to remix some songs, the band felt good about the recording process. Dave Grohl tracked the drums over three days, while Cobain nailed all the vocals in roughly seven hours.<\/p>\n \n\tThe experience brought many more bands to his door, and in the Nineties, he recorded major-league releases by Bush, Veruca Salt, Cheap Trick, and former Led Zeppelin members Robert Plant and Jimmy Page. Toward the end of the decade, he started accepting outside-of-the-box jobs, eventually growing to encompass quieter, more nuanced works by Joanna Newsom, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, and Low. \u201cYou could tell that he embraced the challenge,\u201d Low\u2019s Alan Sparhawk says.\u00a0<\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t \t\t\t\t\tAlbini built Electrical Audio to embody his recording philosophy in a physical space.<\/span><\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\u00a9 Monfourny Renaud\/DAPR\/ZUMA<\/cite><\/p>\n<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n \n\tELECTRICAL AUDIO OPENED its doors in 1997. \u201cHis studio design was a mix between being self-taught and understanding acoustics,\u201d Weston says. \u201cAll the stuff he and the band ever did had a real DIY aesthetic. So he was like, \u2018Figure out how to do things, read books, have experiences, ask questions, and then figure out how to do it with you and your friends.’\u201d<\/p>\n \n\tAlbini and his friends, many of whom played in bands, built their punk values into the studio\u2019s walls. The main contractor was musician Pete \u201cFlour\u201d Conway, and Tar bassist Tom Zaluckyj served as the general carpenter. Pegboy\u2019s Joe Haggerty did much of the plumbing, while Weston did the wiring. Big Black and Naked Raygun\u2019s Jeff Pezzati helped with HVAC installation and Naked Raygun\u2019s Pierre Kezdy, who was also a plumber, pitched in, too.<\/p>\n \n\tWhen Rolling Stone <\/em>visits the studio on what would\u2019ve been Albini\u2019s 62nd birthday in July 2024, a blue jumpsuit dangles on a hook upstairs. The walls are adorned with screen-printed posters from Dianogah bassist and visual artist Jay Ryan, who also helped build Electrical. Studio A, on the first floor, houses two grand pianos, an assortment of instruments, three performance spaces, and a lounge-style control room. Upstairs, there\u2019s a kitchen, offices, lounge, and the control room for Studio B, whose voluminous live room stretches two stories. Much of Studio B\u2019s gear, including the console in the control room, came directly from Albini\u2019s home studio. For an affordable rate, Albini would record anybody, \u201cas long as they weren\u2019t assholes,\u201d says chief engineer Greg Norman, who started at Electrical at age 19 and helped build it out in 1996.<\/p>\n \n\tWhether it was the constant work or Whinna\u2019s influence throughout the Nineties, Albini\u2019s friends started noticing a change in him. \u201cHe became a nice person,\u201d Gonsior says. \u201cSometime in the late Nineties, he came to Portland for a concert, and I just looked at him. I said, \u2018Where is Steve and what have you done with him?’\u201d<\/p>\n \n\tBy 2018, Sunn0)))\u2019s core members, who\u2019d gotten to know Albini in his wild years, also felt he\u2019d matured. \u201cIn the early Nineties, he seemed like this classic sort of just shitty dude,\u201d Greg Anderson says. \u201cI could never really see him with a woman. He seemed like the Grinch\u2026 It was cool to see things had changed.\u201d<\/p>\n \n\tSinger-songwriter Shannon Wright knew nothing of Albini\u2019s past when she hired him for sessions and later became his friend. She recalls one night when she was opening for Shellac and a male fan heckled her with sexist taunts. \u201cSteve was so disappointed,\u201d she says. \u201cThe fact that it bothered him so deeply meant so much to me.\u201d When she learned about his past, she shrugged it off. \u201cHe made some stupid mistakes like we all do,\u201d she says. \u201cIt\u2019s just that they\u2019re in zines. Things like that last forever. But he really grew out of those things.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t \t\t\t\t\tAlbini got seriously into poker in his later years, as seen in this photo from the 2008 All Tomorrow\u2019s Parties festival.<\/span><\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tRoger Kisby\/Getty Images<\/cite><\/p>\n<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n \n\tAlbini\u2019s friends who regularly played poker with him \u2014 he won two World Series of Poker bracelets in 2018 and 2022, earning enough money to account for 25 to 30 percent of his income \u2014 credit him with helping progress their discourse in recent years. Andy Kosinski recalls Albini arguing for leftist politics during games and defending trans people to conservative-minded strangers, and he convinced the group to stop insulting each other with \u201ccertain words\u201d people now generally find offensive.<\/p>\n \n\tBut Albini\u2019s awakening to social justice didn\u2019t happen overnight. Whinna was working at Second City, Chicago\u2019s <\/strong>improv comedy institution, in 2002 when Dana Min Goodman and Julia Wolov told friends there that Louis C.K. had masturbated in front of them in a hotel; 15 years later, their experience became public<\/a>. (In a statement at that time, C.K. acknowledged the stories were true. \u201cI will now step back and take a long time to listen,\u201d he told The New York Times<\/em><\/a> <\/em>in 2017.) <\/strong>Albini was a fan of Louie,<\/em> and he continued to watch the show despite Whinna telling him the story.<\/p>\n \n\tWhinna says Albini gradually began to see how his experiences as a white man were vastly different than what others went through, like the time that Whinna had to write a note saying that one of their house guests, a Black woman, had permission to borrow their car due to fears of trigger-happy cops.<\/p>\n \n\tThe turning point, Whinna says, was the presidential election in November 2016. \u201cWe would argue that the majority of this country is racist, that white supremacy is a real thing,\u201d she says. \u201cSteve did not believe it.\u201d They even bet on it. But after Trump won, he couldn\u2019t deny it any longer.<\/p>\n \n\t\u201cA lot of things I said and did from an ignorant position of comfort and privilege are clearly awful and I regret them,\u201d Albini wrote in a widely circulated 2021 Twitter thread. \u201cIt\u2019s nobody\u2019s obligation to overlook that, and I do feel an obligation to redeem myself.\u201d He said he \u201cexpected no grace,\u201d and added, \u201cI\u2019m overdue for a conversation about my role in inspiring \u2018edgelord\u2019 shit.\u201d<\/p>\n \n\tKeeping his promise, he candidly addressed his past in the last few years of his life. \u201cWhen you realize that the dumbest person in the argument is on your side, that means you\u2019re on the wrong side,\u201d he told The Guardian<\/em><\/a> in 2023.<\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t \t\t\t\t\tAlbini and Whinna founded the Letters to Santa charity in 1996.<\/span><\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tCourtesy of Heather Whinna<\/cite><\/p>\n<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n \n\tHis affection for his friends began to outweigh his combativeness. \u201cHe was very vocal about his love for his friends. All of a sudden, he would end phone calls with, \u2018I love you,’\u201d says Kosinski, his poker buddy. Pajo remembers telling Albini he loved him the very last time they saw each other at a concert in early 2024. \u201cHis eyes got really tender. He\u2019s double-masked, but I could tell he was smiling, and he is like, \u2018I love you too, Dave.\u2019 And he walked away.\u201d<\/p>\n \n\t\u201cHis agility in growing and reassessing his own past \u2014 that\u2019s an ideal way for a man to be, when the society is lacking for positive male role models,\u201d says Wilco\u2019s Jeff Tweedy, <\/strong>who first met Albini in the early Nineties, when they worked together to produce a record by the St. Louis band Dazzling Killmen. Albini was a fixture at Lounge Ax, whose co-owner, Sue Miller, is married to Tweedy, and they became close friends. \u201cHaving a friend that\u2019s such a strong yet malleable personality was really beautiful,\u201d Tweedy adds.<\/p>\n \n\tIn late April 2024, Albini and Electrical\u2019s Norman flew to France to give an engineering seminar. Albini headed back to Chicago on May 4 for a recording session: The art-rock band FACS had booked Albini to record and mix their album Wish Defense<\/em>. As they wrapped a couple of days later on May 7, FACS\u2019 Brian Case asked Albini about Shellac\u2019s then-upcoming album To All Trains<\/em>. \u201cHe went into this 30-minute monologue,\u201d Case says. \u201cAnd he said, \u2018Hasta ma\u00f1ana.’\u201d<\/p>\n \n\tAs always, Albini returned home after that and cooked Whinna dinner. She went upstairs to work on her computer. Not long after, he came upstairs and told her his chest felt tight and that he was going to urgent care. She said she\u2019d take him to the hospital, but then he collapsed down the stairs. \u201cWe got a call from Heather that night, and she was in distress, so we ran over to the house,\u201d Albini\u2019s longtime friend Tim Midyett of Silkworm says. By the time Midyett and his wife arrived, the paramedics were already there. One of them took Whinna back upstairs. \u201cI really didn\u2019t want to go,\u201d she says. \u201cI wanted to be right next to him.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n \n\tAlbini was taken to the hospital, where the doctor told them he didn\u2019t make it.<\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t \t\t\t\t\tOnstage with Shellac, 2007<\/span><\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tMarc Broussely\/Redferns\/Getty Images<\/cite><\/p>\n<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n \n\tTHE WORLD WILL remember Albini for the records he helped make and his outspoken, confrontational public persona, but those who got to know him will remember his generosity, brilliance, honesty, and the way he fostered a close-knit community that continues to gather and look out for one another.<\/p>\n \n\tKim Deal recalls talking to her twin sister and Breeders bandmate, Kelley, who told her, \u201cAll his involvement in music throughout the years, that\u2019s the least<\/em> interesting thing about him. He\u2019s got a great perspective of everything. He talks in paragraphs about a topic.\u201d<\/p>\n \n\tAlbini enjoyed debating friends, whatever the subject. \u201cHe seemed like he would be really interested in taking an untenable position and arguing on its behalf,\u201d Tweedy says. \u201cIt was a fun challenge to defend something that you didn\u2019t even really think you had to defend.\u201d<\/p>\n \n\tAnd he gave money away freely to anyone in need. \u201cHe hated the fact that money had so much power over people\u2019s lives and could destroy people,\u201d Whinna says. \u201cI think that\u2019s what we really shared in common, is that we were both repulsed by greed.\u201d<\/p>\n \n\tIn the wake of his death, tributes to Albini took place at concerts the world over. At Primavera Sound in Barcelona the summer he died, Pulp and PJ Harvey each paid tribute during their sets, and the festival named the stage<\/a> where Shellac was supposed to perform after him. Friends held a four-day gathering<\/a> by Lake Michigan in Illinois <\/strong>to celebrate Albini\u2019s life. Tsunami\u2019s Jenny Toomey held an event at the Chicago venue the Hideout to teach people how to play Albini\u2019s favorite dice game, Kariki. That event raised money for Letters to Santa<\/a>, the charity he and Whinna started in 1996, which many say contributed to Albini\u2019s positive turns later in life.<\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t \t\t\t\t\tWhinna (center), Kim Deal (right), and Electrical Audio staff unveil the Steve Albini Way street sign in November 2024. <\/span><\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tAlthea Legaspi<\/cite><\/p>\n<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n \n\tAnd his legacy lives on at Electrical Audio. The day after Albini died, still in shock and having barely grieved the loss of their friend, mentor, and leader, the staff of Electrical did what Albini would\u2019ve done: They got back to work. FACS\u2019 Case recalls getting a call from Electrical engineer <\/strong>Taylor Hales the day after Albini died. \u201cHe\u2019s like, \u2018Do you want to come finish it tomorrow?’\u201d Case says. They returned the next day.<\/p>\n \n\tWHEN WE MEET the Electrical staff for another visit in May 2025, a few days before the one-year anniversary of Albini\u2019s death, the grief is still palpable as they navigate their new normal. We\u2019re in the control room for Studio A, where Albini helmed his final session and two of his jumpsuits \u2014 one blue, one green \u2014 still hang near the entrance.\u00a0<\/p>\n \n\tThere\u2019s a lot of lore behind Electrical, including how Albini always wore a jumpsuit when working. The origins started during the studio\u2019s mid-Nineties buildout. Albini was gone for months working on Page and Plant and touring with Shellac. The crew kept working, but dust was everywhere during the demolition phase, so they started using jumpsuits to protect their clothes. \u201cWe came up with the idea of having a surprise, goofy scenario where he shows up and we all just look like prison camp laborers with full beards in these tattered \u2018e\u2019-branded jumpsuits,\u201d Norman says. When Albini returned, he adopted it in solidarity: \u201cHe just wanted to be part of the crew,\u201d the chief engineer adds.<\/p>\n \n\tStaff share memories from times they spent with Albini in the studio, reminiscing about his love of fluffy coffees; how his cat, Fluss, who lived in the studio, was often credited as a producer on records he engineered; and the devotion he extended not just to those he loved, but to anyone who chose to record at Electrical. Prior to Albini\u2019s death, they had already begun working toward self-sufficiency with thoughts of Albini\u2019s retirement: He\u2019d been talking for years about moving to Hawaii with Whinna. In preparation, Albini had talked to his friend Byron Coley, a fellow former Forced Exposure <\/em>writer, about selling his personal items. After he died, Coley continued with that plan. Steve Albini\u2019s Closet<\/a> went wide in early May 2025, with proceeds going to Albini\u2019s estate.<\/p>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tAlthea Legaspi<\/cite><\/p>\n<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n \t\t\t\t\t\t \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tAlthea Legaspi<\/cite><\/p>\n<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n \n\tAlthough Albini died before fulfilling his retirement dream, Electrical continues to work toward what he wanted. \u201cHe was, like, the paternal figure of the studio,\u201d Hales says. \u201cThis institution will persist, and your \u2018children\u2019 will run this place now, and you can ride off into the sunset.\u201d (In 2026, the studio obtained non-profit, tax-exempt status to become the Electrical Audio Foundation, which will be operating the studio in the same spirit in the future, Whinna tells Rolling Stone<\/em>.)<\/p>\n \n\tThey\u2019re grateful they got to witness Albini in one of his favorite elements one last time: recording Shellac\u2019s To All Trains<\/em>. \u201cHe\u2019s a totally different person when he\u2019s recording himself being in a band, as a musician,\u201d says Norman. \u201cHis shoes aren\u2019t on, he\u2019s running around in socks. He\u2019s excited. He\u2019s giddy, running back and forth.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n \n\tThere\u2019s a mystique around Albini, but when asked why he chose this as his life calling, Norman says simply, \u201cIt\u2019s just pure passion.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n \n\t\u201cHe\u2019s helping create the most accurate document of a band\u2019s life\u2019s work, essentially,\u201d\u00a0 adds Jon San Paolo, another longtime engineer at Electrical. \u201cThere was so much importance that he applied to it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n
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