If someone told me there was such a thing as “industrial rock” before I had ever heard of any, I would assume the genre would sound like Big Black’s 1987 album, Songs About Fucking. A graceful introduction to an album with nothing graceful about it—this is pure punk. Lead by the now famous Steve Albini, Big Black smash and blitz their way through 13 songs in about half an hour. Every note played and every scream shouted by Albini stings, but it’s the kind of shot you can’t get enough of. It’s like a drug.

The clanging guitars and stamping drums invoke some kind of trip through an oddly choreographed industrial park where every machine seems to somehow be plodding in perfect rhythm. But underneath Songs About Fucking‘s unique, abrasive noise rock/industrial sound lies some great pop/rock songwriting at no expense to the former. Take the end of the band’s best-known song, a cover of Kraftwerk’s “The Model,” for example. That catchy assembly line crunch that plays after the last verse and repeats until it fades out drills its way into your head. “Tiny, King of the Jews” is a monster of machinery that looms over you and makes a perfect closer to the album.

Steve Albini’s misanthropic lyrics have attracted some controversy, but if you’ve seen the guy outside of the music it’s clear it’s all in good fun. If his racist or misogynistic lyrics ever seem absurd to you, then that’s ostensibly the point: he’s highlighting the ridiculousness of those prejudices while also furthering the unhinged out-of-control take-no-prisoners aggressiveness of the music that complements the insane lyrics.

Misanthropic, crazy, and maybe a little bit stupid, a closer look at Songs About Fucking reveals a pretty intelligent band as well. Big Black turn their intelligible maniac shouting and industrial crush into catchy choruses, riffs, and beats, and none of these pop/rock songs every stay past their welcome thanks to their short lengths. They come on, pump you the fuck up, and before you even have a chance to get bored of hearing the same chorus again, a new song comes on and slaps you from the other side of your face.

Songs About Fucking is one of those fantastic, rare albums that manages to combine great, sensible songwriting with a new, unusual sound. It’s a landmark album that remains as captivating today as it probably was then, because none of Big Black’s numerous influences can seem to pull off their sound as well they did. It’s crazy to think this album came out in fucking 1987.