Nirvana · S5 E2

Pachyderm

A residential studio in the woods outside Cannon Falls, Minnesota. No distractions, no visitors, no label executives. The band lives in the studio, records live with minimal overdubs, and captures a sound that is raw, loud, and deliberately hostile. Albini uses his signature recording technique: every instrument sounds like it is in the room with you

Cold Open

A house at the end of a dirt road outside Cannon Falls, Minnesota, February 1993. There is no cell service, no television, and no way to reach anyone at DGC Records, which is exactly the point.

"Radio Friendly Unit Shifter," Nirvana, Live and Loud, Pier 48, Seattle, December 13, 1993. The title is the joke: a nearly five-minute assault of feedback, screaming, and tempo changes that no radio programmer would touch. This is the sound Pachyderm Studio captured, and it is the sound of a band that has stopped trying to be liked.

The Room

Pachyderm is a residential recording studio: the band sleeps where they work. The live room is large enough for all three members to play facing each other, and the walls are thick enough to contain the volume. Kurt, Krist, and Dave settle in for two weeks with Albini and second engineer Bob Weston, and the outside world disappears.

Sources

Michael Azerrad, "Come As You Are: The Story of Nirvana," Doubleday, 1993

Tape Op Magazine, Steve Albini interview on recording techniques

I'm not going to put myself in a position where the things I do might be colored by my desire for the record to sell more copies.

Steve Albini, on refusing royalties and maintaining creative integrity, from "The Problem with Music," The Baffler, No. 5, 1993
Song Breakdown

Radio Friendly Unit Shifter, Nirvana (1993)

The title is Albini-era Nirvana in a nutshell: a song named after the thing the label wants, delivered in a form the label could never sell. Nearly five minutes of shifting tempos, atonal guitars, and Kurt screaming through a wall of feedback. Listen for how Krist's bass and Dave's drums lock into a groove while Kurt's guitar tears against it. The low-end is massive, the kind of weight that Albini specializes in capturing through room microphones placed several feet from the amplifiers. There are no hooks, no singalong choruses, no concessions. This is the sound of a band recording in a room in the middle of nowhere, and it is exactly what they came to Pachyderm to find.

Sources

In Utero, Nirvana, DGC Records, 1993, liner notes

Tape Op Magazine, Steve Albini interview on recording techniques

SECRET REVEAL

TAP TO REVEAL: How many takes did the heaviest song on In Utero require?

The Technique

Albini sets up microphones across the room, some close to the instruments, some six or eight feet away, capturing the natural reverb of the space. He records everything to analog tape, not digital. There is no Pro Tools, no computer editing, no way to fix mistakes after the fact. If Kurt flubs a lyric or Dave drops a stick, the whole band plays the song again from the top.

Sources

Tape Op Magazine, Steve Albini interview on recording techniques

Sound on Sound, Steve Albini interview on microphone placement

RAPID FIRE

Pachyderm: The Sessions

Bonus Listening

Very Ape, Nirvana (1993)

Under two minutes of snarling punk that could only have been recorded in one or two takes. "Very Ape" captures the Pachyderm sessions at their most direct: no fat, no filler, just a riff, a scream, and an ending that arrives before you're ready. Kurt's lyrics mock pretension and self-importance, which is fitting for a song recorded by a man who hired the most anti-pretension engineer in the business.

Lyrics

Very Ape, Nirvana (1993)

Kurt's lyrics are a sarcastic portrait of someone who wears their intellect like a costume: "I am buried up to my neck in contradictory flies." The song is barely two minutes long, and every second of it vibrates with the kind of impatience that defined the Pachyderm sessions.

Quick Quiz

Besides engineering In Utero, what was Bob Weston's other role in music?

Coming Next

The album is finished. Now DGC needs a single, and Kurt hands them "Heart-Shaped Box," a song about Courtney Love that sounds like drowning in slow motion.

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