Rapeman
Biography
In the annals of underground rock history, few bands have generated as much controversy from their very name as Rapeman, the short-lived but influential noise rock outfit that emerged from Chicago's fertile alternative scene in 1987. The brainchild of Steve Albini, fresh off his tenure with the abrasive punk trio Big Black, Rapeman represented both a natural evolution of his sonic brutality and a lightning rod for criticism that would ultimately contribute to the band's brief existence.
Albini, already establishing himself as one of underground rock's most uncompromising figures, formed Rapeman with bassist David Wm. Sims and drummer Rey Washam, both veterans of the Texas noise rock scene through their work with Scratch Acid. The trio's name, derived from a Japanese manga series, immediately sparked outrage and protests, with critics arguing it trivialized sexual violence. Albini, characteristically defiant, maintained the name was chosen for its shock value and cultural commentary, though he would later acknowledge the controversy overshadowed the music itself.
Musically, Rapeman picked up where Big Black left off, delivering punishing doses of noise rock that felt like being trapped inside a malfunctioning industrial machine. The band's sound was built on Albini's razor-sharp guitar work, processed through his signature array of effects pedals and drum machines, creating a wall of controlled chaos that was both mathematically precise and utterly devastating. Sims provided a thunderous low-end foundation while Washam's drumming added human unpredictability to Albini's mechanized assault.
The band's recorded output was deliberately minimal, consisting primarily of the "Budd" EP released in 1988 and the posthumous compilation "Two Nuns and a Pack Mule," which collected their studio recordings and live tracks. The "Budd" EP showcased Rapeman at their most focused and ferocious, with tracks like "Hated Chinee" and "Just Got Paid" demonstrating their ability to channel pure aggression into surprisingly catchy, if deeply unsettling, compositions. Albini's lyrics, delivered in his characteristic deadpan snarl, painted bleak portraits of American dysfunction with the same unflinching eye he'd brought to Big Black.
Despite their brief existence, Rapeman's live performances became the stuff of legend in underground circles. The trio toured relentlessly, bringing their punishing sound to dive bars and college venues across America, often playing to audiences as much drawn by curiosity about the controversy as by the music itself. These shows were intense affairs, with Albini's confrontational stage presence and the band's overwhelming volume creating an atmosphere of barely contained chaos.
The controversy surrounding their name, however, proved insurmountable. Protests followed the band to venues, with feminist groups organizing boycotts and demanding cancellations. While Albini initially seemed to relish the confrontation, the constant focus on the name rather than the music eventually wore thin. By 1989, the band had quietly disbanded, with Albini moving on to form Shellac and continue his influential career as a recording engineer.
Rapeman's influence on the noise rock and alternative scenes far exceeded their brief lifespan. Their uncompromising approach to sonic brutality helped pave the way for the grunge explosion that would soon follow, while Albini's production techniques, honed during this period, would later be applied to landmark albums by Nirvana, Pixies, and PJ Harvey. The band's willingness to push boundaries, both musically and culturally, embodied the confrontational spirit of late-80s underground rock.
Today, Rapeman exists as both a cautionary tale about the power of controversy to overshadow artistic merit and a testament to the uncompromising vision that defined Chicago's noise rock scene. While their name ensures they remain a footnote rather than a headline in rock history, their musical legacy lives on through Albini's continued work and the countless bands they influenced. The controversy that defined their brief existence now seems almost quaint in an era of social media outrage, but their music retains its power to shock and inspire, a reminder of a time when underground rock truly felt dangerous.
