When I was in high school, I was
obsessed with what my friends and I called “noise rock.” Really, this was just
an umbrella term for anything angular, dissonant and somewhat difficult to
listen to. It may have started when my older cousin introduced me to one of my
first favorite bands, the Butthole Surfers, before I was even old enough to
shave, but it really took root in my teenage years. I immersed myself in all
things Amphetamine Reptile, Boner Records, Sub Pop and so many more. The Touch
& Go label out of Chicago was, in addition to being home to the Butthole
Surfers at the time, one of my go-to fixations. I bought as many Touch & Go
releases as I could get my hands on. And even in those pre-internet days, this
wasn’t that difficult. Each T&G release came with a full fold-out catalog
with all their releases and the releases from all their subsidiary labels. I
bet I had one of those catalogs in my pocket at all times throughout the ‘90s.
I used them as a kind of checklist of records to buy and artists to check out. The
T&G catalog not only gave me an education on current roster giants like the
Jesus Lizard, Urge Overkill and Tortoise, but also hipped me to legends like
Glenn Branca, the Virgin Prunes and Chrome whose reissues and new material had
found homes on the label. One band that always stood out from the rest to me was
Louisville, Kentucky’s Slint.Unless you’ve never read anything to do with music ever, you’ve probably at least seen the name Slint come up in print at some point in your life. They only put out two full-length records and an EP in their short time as a band, yet they are one of the most influential and important bands in the history of rock. Though they were only teenagers when they started the band, they were already kind of scenester veterans, having formed out of the ashes of hardcore punk band Squirrel Bait. Slint’s debut, Tweez, is a masterpiece in its own right, but it’s their second and final album, 1991’s Spiderland, that really garners them the attention that they so richly deserve.
Spiderland
came two years after the group’s debut. Back to back, the records sound like
two completely different bands. It’s as though in those two years, the members
of Slint all went through profound and possibly traumatic personal changes and
wrote an album to go along with them. Let’s start with the lyrics, which were
actually written during the recording of the sessions at the last minute. The
songs deal with topics such as loss, alienation, guilt and paranoia. And, ho-lee shit, can you ever hear that
shine through! The vocals are mostly hushed, ominous whispers or nervous spoken
bits, alternated with occasional volcanic outbursts of austere shouting and desperate
screaming. These dramatic dynamic shifts, combined with the group’s love of odd
time signatures, add to the unease that is felt throughout the album. The
tension begins immediately, as the harmonic bursts of opener “Breadcrumb Trail”
begin an odd tale of carnival folk. “Nosferatu Man,” another high point in the
record, is inspired by the F.W. Murnau silent film Nosferatu and could have served well as a soundtrack piece to the
film with its jagged, dissonant lead riff and its crawling 5/4 time signature.
The album’s closer, “Good Morning, Captain” is perhaps the absolute pinnacle of
Slintosity, as it recalls a story of a sunken ship from the vessel’s only
survivor. The lyrics are of course delivered in (guitarist/vocalist) Brian
McMahan’s trademark mumbled monotone, but the song culminates in the album’s
bleakest moment: the band explodes into a feedback-drenched cacophony while
McMahan desperately screams “I miss you” over and over.
Spiderland
was recorded in four days. Steve Albini, who recorded Tweez, was not called back in to man the boards. Instead, the band
opted for Brian Paulson, known for his “live sound” recording technique. The
creation of Spiderland was said to be
so difficult and grueling an experience for the band that at least one member
rumored to have checked himself into a psychiatric hospital upon the album’s
completion. Slint themselves disbanded completely before the album even hit
store shelves. Even the black and white cover photo (shot by friend of the band
Will Oldham) of the four band members treading water up to their necks while
wearing somewhat deranged grins suggests that something dark and unusual is
contained within.
Spiderland’s
legacy continues to grow even today. It is, after all, the album that basically
invented modern day “post-rock” in all of its forms (post-metal, post-hardcore,
post-whatever the hell). And if you don’t believe that, just listen to the
album. Upon repeated listens, it will start to make sense to you why Explosions
in the Sky and Godspeed You! Black Emperor are often lumped into the same
category as vastly different bands like Pelican and Isis. You can hear all of
those bands in Slint’s Spiderland.
There is a famous quote regarding The Velvet Underground, stating that (and I’m
paraphrasing because I don’t feel like looking up the exact quote) not many copies
of the Velvet’s debut sold, but everyone who bought one started a band. I think
the same could apply to Slint. They didn’t make a huge splash at the time, but
the ripples from that small splash can still be felt today.
-
Jonathan Eagle
No comments:
Post a Comment