The tribute by his brother is lovely.
Marty Albini wrote: Steve Albini entered this world on July 22nd, 1962 in Pasadena, CA. He left it by a heart attack May 7th, 2024. He leaves behind a grieving family and many friends and peers; this obituary will try to give the world an idea of the man we’re missing.
He was the youngest of three by Frank (at the time a grad student at Caltech) and Gina--high school sweethearts from the hardscrabble town of Madera, CA.
Steve played clarinet in grade school. Starting in high school in Missoula, MT, he gravitated toward the emerging punk rock genre, teaching himself the bass to play for the band Just Ducky. This obsession with music led to playing guitar and forming the band Big Black while he attended Northwestern University studying journalism.
His journalistic career also started in high school, writing record and concert reviews for the Hellgate Lance. These writings led to his first death threat. He would go on to write essays for various fanzines and music publications, including one called The Problem With Music detailing how musicians benefited very little from the business practices of the recording industry. Go read it. It’s epic.
Steve was fearless, willing to speak up about what he cared about and unconcerned about who took offense. This behavior did not always serve his commercial interests, but it gave him a reputation as a man of integrity who could not be bought or bullied in an industry that did a lot of both.
Following Big Black he formed the band Rapeman (named after a Japanese comic book and intended to be provocative, but a name he later regretted), and the band Shellac. Starting with his own bands and those of friends, he began to record as a sound engineer. This activity led to a studio in his home in Chicago, which eventually grew into Electrical Audio, a converted commercial building he turned into his dream studio. You can read about all the bands and projects he’s been associated with elsewhere; he’s not hard to find on the internet. It’s a long and storied list.
In 1996 he and his girlfriend (later wife) Heather Whinna began a simple project to help Chicago area families in need. They picked up letters that the post office collected from kids writing to Santa. The requests were for basic necessities, and they were moved to organize friends to donate what they could. They spent every Christmas thereafter delivering gifts to change the lives of the poorest of the poor. This effort grew into an annual 24 hour fundraiser at Second City, which is now a charity known as Letters to Santa, part of Poverty Alleviation Charities in Chicago.
All that activity is public, but Steve and Heather are responsible for countless other acts of private generosity. Without going into that list (you know who you are!) your stereotype of a punk rock musician probably doesn’t include the beloved uncle who barbecued for the weddings of his nieces and nephews. The devoted husband who stayed up late to cook for his wife. The studio owner who listed his cats as staff and went deep into debt to keep that staff employed during the pandemic. Host of many stray humans in need of a bed, a meal, a refuge from the cruelties of life.
Steve tended to obsess about various projects, master them, and move on. Among these were model rocketry, photography (he worked for a time retouching photos for an ad agency), cooking (he published a food blog, mariobatalivoice, for a time based on the meals he prepared for Heather), woodworking (he made some of the furnishings for the house he and Heather lived in), and of course poker. Steve won two bracelets at the World Series of Poker and hosted a regular game at his home.
Steve was also generous with his time, willing to talk to anyone wanting to follow in his footsteps as a musician or recording engineer. He gave lectures around the world and sat for many interviews, often patiently fielding the same questions but always with a thoughtful answer. His studio hosted many light-hearted but highly technical videos on the science and technology of sound recording and hosted numerous interns looking to learn his craft.
His family is drawing some comfort from the worldwide outpouring of support and affectionate remembrances. We’re glad we got to share him with you, and we urge you to go do something generous in his memory.
Steve is survived by his wife of 16 years, Heather Whinna; his mother, Gina; his brother Marty; sister Mona Goldbar; and numerous nieces and nephews who urge you to make a lot of noise in his honor.