Tag: Rema Rema

Steve Albini with Lil Bub, a small saucer-eyed cat, on his shoulder.

Steve Albini, 1962-2024

There have been numerous tributes in the wake of legendary producer and engineer Steve Albini’s death last week, at the age of 61. Some exhaustively trace his history in iconic Chicago bands like Big Black and Shellac — or his unique production work for bands like Nirvana (“In Utero”), the Breeders, PJ Harvey, Bush, and scores of others. Most detail his notoriously acerbic candor, often about bands he’d recorded. (Steve on the Pixies: “Never have I seen four cows more anxious to be led around by their nose rings.”) And most mention “The Problem with Music,” his oft-quoted 1993 Baffler screed — still spot-on roughly 30 years later — that likens signing with a major record label to swimming backwards through a trench filled with runny shit. (It gets less complimentary from there.)

Steve Albini with Lil Bub, a small saucer-eyed cat, on his shoulder.
Steve Albini with Lil Bub, the magical space cat, at Electrical Audio.
Rema-Rema group photo by Paul Stahl, 1979.

Visualising Rema-Rema

Rema-Rema group photo by Paul Stahl, 1979.
Rema-Rema in front of Royal Albert Hall, 1979. Photo by Paul Stahl. Left-right: Mark Cox, Mick Allen, Gary Asquith, Marco Pirroni, Max.

Until 2019, the sole recorded evidence of the short-lived London quintet Rema-Rema was a 4-song, 12” EP released by iconic label 4AD. (BAD 5, for those taking notes.) Wrapped in a striking George Rodger photo of Korongo Nuba tribesmen, Wheel in the Roses grabs you by the lapels with “Feedback Song,” which opens with a chorus of voices (no instruments) chanting the band’s name — this is the band as a gang, with a signature schoolyard chant.* At 30 seconds, the voices drop out, and a lone bass note booms out, setting an insistent rhythm met 45 seconds later by a skeletal drum pattern filling in the wide-open space. A clarion-call synth snakes through, then ringing feedback. The feral vocals return at the 3-minute mark, sailing over the grinding backdrop with staccato insistence. Each band member gets their introduction before the song builds up to a weird, gripping groove that’s as bracing now as it was in 1980, when it served as Exhibit A for a promising band with an ignominious end.

What You Could Not Visualise trailer (2023)

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