Customer Reviews

Songs About Fucking

5 star:		(28)
4 star:		(9)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

Big Black is one of the key creators of industrial music. over the years, i have read enough stories about them to go out and buy this album (as a import copy) at a record store. when i got home, i found out that it was only 30 minutes long. furious that i spent so much on a imported CD that was barely longer that a sitcom, i went and played it anyway. I WAS FLOORED. this was one of the most darkest, sickest albums i have ever heard. starting off with "The Power Of Independent Trucking", Albini takes off into songs that are truly sick and twisted, with him screaming lyrics over punishing guitar riffs and equaling damaging drum machine loops. and all this with a (as we record engineers call) "incorrect" mix of the songs, sounding like they're coming out of a transistor radio that you would hear over machine gunfire. the whole album sounds like what you would have if you could capture the moment of suicide across the length of a record. i can see where Trent Reznor got his ideals from, but this album makes Nine Inch Nails sound like Disney records. this album is a must-buy, but it is not for the weak. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

If forced to pick one band that best exemplified the indie-rock aesthetic, one would be hard-pressed to find a better choice than Big Black. Many of the acts typically credited with bringing alternative music to the mainstream have, for better or worse, been little more than angry pop acts (Nirvana and Nine Inch Nails being prominent examples), and even many more underground acts such as Pixies, Sonic Youth, and the Jesus Lizard released some material that was palatable to the mainstream, as their major-label runs attest. Big Black, on the other hand, was the real deal, a band that lived out the indie philosophy in both their music and in their resolutely do-it-yourself business practices, and paid the commercial price for it. Songs About F***ing was the perfect distillation of leader Steve Albini's philosophy: an abrasive, confrontational album that contained no concessions to the mainstream and no pretensions to socially redeeming value. This is music at its most twisted and evil, acknowledging no taboos as it challenged listeners to take or leave its assaultive sound and unpleasant lyrical content.

The key to the lasting appeal of this release lies largely in its simplicity. Like fellow pioneering noise-merchants Godflesh, Big Black distilled rock music to its most basic elements: guitar, bass, and drum machine. In spite of this minimal approach, however, Songs About F***ing is hardly palatable or unchallenging. What emerges from this combination of rock's traditional elements is a barrage of scathing, disembowling noise that pummels eardrums with a mix of astringent guitar squalls and pulsating industrial beasts. And of course, it's all topped off with the demented vocal stylings of Albini himself, making Kurt Cobain sound like Mel Torme as he howled and screamed his tales of depravity.

Mixing metal, punk, and the then-burgeoning genre of industrial with reckless abandon, Songs About F***ing constitutes a musical roller coaster of frightening proportions, and wraps things up in barely half an hour. The basslines and drum programming of Bad Penny and Colombian Necktie are enough to crack skulls, while Albini's vocals legitimately bring to mind a man in the midst of a nervous breakdown. L-Dopa is all punkish speed and aggression but infinitely more frightening, and the proto-industrial rage of Precious Thing and Kasimir N. Pulaski Day would send Trent Reznor up a tree. Even when the band slows down, as on Kitty Empire, the results are clenched, sinister, and intense. Tiny, King of the Jews (love that title) actually manages to be somewhat atmospheric, but it still relies heavily on that mix of disconcerting guitar noise and pulsating beats.

I've listened to pretty much every noted act in the extreme-music world, from Slayer to Godflesh to Meshuggah, and Big Black may have been the scariest of all. And Songs about F***ing in an unqualified triumph, one that oozes menace and integrity at the same time. Own it, or pose.

I went to the dentist to get some fillings and they put me under the gas at least forty-five minutes before even starting the operation. When I left the office I stumbled to my car and got inside. Although most of my face was numb I lit a cigarette. I put this album in for the first time and turned it up really loud. I sat there in the parking lot of the dentist, face numb, still coming down off the gas, listening to Big Black and smoking for a minute or two before deciding to drive to Barnes and Noble to buy birthday presents for my friend's son. It was amazing.

Back in 1991 I was getting ready to graduate from high school. All I had ever listened to was Janes Addiction and I assumed that they were as good as music gets. Then one day a friend of mine got a job at a local record store and brought back an album and said "You have to check out this band." I then half heartedly removed my "Ritual De Lo Habitual" CD out of my car's stereo and inserted "Big Black's - Songs About Fu...". My taste in music and my entire life changed from the moment that CD played. I found a whole new world of music that rarely, if never, touched the corporate radio waves.

I'll admit, I don't play this album as much as I used to but that doesn't mean that I still don't consider it one of my all time favorites. When you hear an album, any album, a few thousand times you need to take a break every now and again. Still though, when I play it around a bunch of friends or others who may have never listened to Big Black, I still get that fuzzy feeling inside. They have a sound which I consider well ahead of it's time.

If you're new to Big Black and you don't own this record, BUY IT! If you own this record, PLAY IT.... LOUD!! If you like it then go out and buy Albini's other fine projects such as Rapeman and Shellac. You will not be disappointed...

The late 80s/early 90s was a time in music that was at least as fertile as the late 60s/early 70s. Great bands seemed to pop up every other week. Among these was a 3 piece from Chicago with the moniker of Big Black (how perfectly apt). They garnered attention largely due to the first track on the first LP, Atomizer. The song, Jordan Minnesota, was about paedophilia, and how it had spread throughout a sleepy mid-western town until just about everyone in the town was involved in a massive conspiracy to abuse each other's children. The song itself was a huge pounding monstrosity that sounded as if it had been recorded in one of the lesser known basements of hell. The band comprised three skinny geeks in wire-rimmed glasses and a drum machine named Roland. They looked like accountants, but in reality they were hitmen, with guitars instead of sawn-off shotguns, and their intention was to deliver the coup de grace to the dull, overblown, drug-addled corpse of rock and roll. Of all their contemporaries, Big Black were probably closest to Swans in their fascination for the excesses of human behaviour. Sonically, though, they occupied a territory all of their own. With hideous guitar skronk produced by custom-made aluminium guitars, martial beats courtesy of 'Roland' and Albini's muffled lunatic ranting, they crushed all in their path, like blitzkreig circa '39. 'Songs' was arguably their peak. The cover said it all, and the music it contained just went straight for the jugular. Shorter and sharper than Atomizer, it nontheless contained all the key ingredients from that awesome debut. It was a claustrophic nightmare of a record that grabbed you by the nape of the neck and forced you to look at the nasty dead thing under the sink. The crowning glory was Albini's superb liner notes. Coruscating little vignettes that gave some insight into the twisted genius behind it all. I'd read them over and over and laugh like a drain. It was all a sick joke, and if you got it, great. If not, well, there's always MTV... American punk rock would never be this good again.

Big Black was one of the best bands that evolved out of hardcore punk and they had an enormous influence on underground rock for the next decade. They sound like a New Wave band consisting of serial killers with broken instruments.
Although Big Black used a drum machine, they don't really sound like an Industrial band such as Skinny Puppy or Front 242 who made music that people could dance to. There are absolutely no dance beats in their music. Noise rock is the term that best describes their music.
Darkness is definitely the prevailing sound and theme in Big Black's music. No Death Metal or Goth band with their fake demonic growls or electronic dynamics could possibly convey the gritty darkness that Big Black did. Steve Albini's talking and screaming are exactly what you would imagine a real life serial killer's voice to sound like. When he sings about murder and rape in the first person, the picture is complete.
On "Songs About F*cking," they cover a large range of psychotic states. Songs like "The Model," "Bad Penny," and "Columbian Necktie" have a menacing energy to them. Other songs like "Precious Thing" and "Tiny, King of Jews" move along slowly in a Swans style pace.
So, forget about Albini's indie rock status and the many bands he produced and concentrate on some truly demented music. Even if it wasn't for his so called "indie ethics," this music would still be underground.

Ergot has got to be the noisiest song ever written. There's all these really high pitched screechy noises during the chorus and if you have it up loud enough, it will give you an instant headache. After listening to this cd just about everyday (which you will), you will always be hearing a faint eeeeeeeeeeeeee, which is the permanent ringing in your ears. Sorry this review wasn't helpful. But yeah, all the songs on this album rule, and this band is just frickin incredible. They never had a manager or booking agent, and they broke up because too many people started comming to their shows, or something like that. They announced the breakup at their last shows, at least they do on Pig Pile anyway. This is as punk as you can get. These guys obviously didn't care what people thought about their music. Just look at the title of the album. Oh yeah, if you're retarded and didn't already know, this came out after they already broke up. Sorry again this wasn't helpful considering you probably knew all this already. I'm just really bored...

from the cringing, grinding guitars to a drum machine called roland, right back to steve albini's powerful lyrics and voice, this album is a MUST HAVE. big black produced a sound so unique, disturbing, and sharp that it will make you twitch. it's vulgar. it's harsh. it's real. you could play "songs about fu....." under water and it would still sound great. you definantly get your money's worth with this one. and if you're going to buy it, you may as well play it loud enough to give yourself an aneurism. anyone with an appreciation for good old hardcore crunch music will LOVE this band, and DEFINANTLY this album.

First off, consider the packaging. The title SONGS ABOUT F--KING rendered in loving bold, and cover art that puts all "shock rockers" (that means you, Marilyn Manson) in their place. That alone makes it worth adding to your collection. Too bad this was the band's last release. Leave it to Steve to break a band up just as they were attracting an audience.

Big Black is pure nihilism in audio form. A young Steve Albini (pre-Shellac and before he was reduced to producing Bush albums) backed by a constantly pulsing drum machine named Roland and furiously feedback-driven guitar noise while ranting his stories of Midwest depravity and illness with an almost infectious glee. This is what happens when Kraftwerk goes to hell (they even cover that German duo's The Model here), or when a bunch of angry, drunk, baseball bat-wielding nerds start playing New Wave while setting a trailer park on fire. Though there have been faster bands, heavier bands, nobody has ever sounded so gritty and hateful as these guys do.

Ah.. enough hyperbole. So, why only four stars (actually 4.5)? Well, there's nothing as great as previous albums' Steelworker, Bad Houses, Kerosene, or Jordan, Minnesota--songs that are so definitive of Big Black's style. However, there are plenty of songs that come awful close: The poppy yet deliciously evil Bad Penny ("I think I f--ked your girlfriend once, maybe twice, I don't remember"), the demented almost-surf rock of Columbian Necktie, the eerie proto-industrial grind of Kitty Empire, the vicious Fish Fry, and the lovely free-floating hostility of Tiny, King Of The Jews. Also notable is a cover of Cheap Trick's He's A Whore that strips away the innuendo and leaves just the grimy sleaze.

Essential music for the misanthrope in all of us. Also recommended highly are fellow Touch & Go outfits The Jesus Lizard and Albini's later "supergroup" Rapeman.

This is Big Black's most consistent album, and although some of the band's finest moments are not contained on this LP (Kerosene, Deep Six, Cables etc) it is by far the most acessable Big Black record. It's still as abrasive as you might expect (or want) but it has a certain pop sensibility which (though it is hidden very deep) is always there. I often find myself whistling 'Columbian Necktie' while attending to my everyday pursuits. Albini even sings (well, almost) on 'he's a whore'. The sad thing about buying this record from amazon is that it takes away the joy of asking for it in a record shop ("as loud as you can, we don't care if you buy it - just ask for it"). The fact that Big Black split up after making this album because they were becoming too popular gives you some indication of what to expect. They might have gained in popularity, but they are still unlistenable to many people.