What was the most influential album of the ‘90s? ‘Fear of a Black Planet’? ‘Nevermind’? ‘Dummy’? ‘OK Computer’? ‘The Shape of Punk to Come’? There are far too many contenders to judge accurately, of course, for the decade saw a rejuvenation of musical innovation after neoconservatism had threatened to annex creativity in the ‘80s. But of all the albums that rank highly in the list, there is one that stands out.
‘Spiderland’ was released on March 27, 1991, with little fanfare. The second album by the Louisville, Kentucky band Slint, its creators had practically disbanded by the time it was released, cancelling a planned European tour in the process.
Understandably, given the context, little was spent on promoting the record and few reviews appeared in the music press. One, though, did make it into a major publication, Melody Maker. It was written by the producer of ‘Tweez’, Slint’s first album, one Steve Albini:
"‘Spiderland’ is flawless. The dry, unembellished recording is so revealing it sometimes feels like eavesdropping. The crystalline guitar of Brian McMahan and the glassy, fluid guitar of David Pajo seem to hover in space directly past the listener's nose. The incredibly precise-yet-instinctive drumming has the same range and wallop it would in your living room.”
Many records in the position ‘Spiderland’ found itself in would have disappeared without trace, consigned to being unearthed periodically as one of the great overlooked releases of its time, but that didn’t happen. Almost exclusively through word of mouth, ‘Spiderland’ gained a legacy all of its own, and by the turn of the century it was being hailed as a classic. More importantly, perhaps, it was also being credited with kickstarting the math and post-rock movements.
That latter role has become Slint’s calling card in the years since. You can’t have a conversation about ‘Spiderland’, it seems, without talking about how Mogwai nicked all its best ideas six years later. That’s not only deeply unfair to Mogwai, who did something very different with the quiet/loud dynamics that defined ‘Spiderland’, but also very unfair on Slint. For ‘Spiderland’ isn’t a proto-math rock or proto-post-rock (apologies for using such a term) record at all.
Instead, it’s actually far more of an evolution than a reinvention. ‘Tweez’ was clearly a post-hardcore record, an inventive and original one, but a post-hardcore record nonetheless. ‘Spiderland’ saw Slint take a step back and allow more space in their sound, creating something that’s actually not all that far removed from some of the more esoteric post-punk/noise rock bands of the mid-to-late ‘80s. The most obvious sonic link, though, is to Television, who sound more like Slint than most who credit both bands for influencing a legion of others seem to realise.
That isn’t to say that ‘Spiderland’ isn’t a unique record. There are no others in existence quite like it, and I’m firmly convinced there never will be. But, if you’re looking for the origins of math and post-rock, then you will be doing a disservice to many other bands by focusing on ‘Spiderland’. It was merely part of those genre’s developments, just like records from bands as diverse as Bitch Magnet, Cul de Sac, Jawbox and Talk Talk. Whichever way you try and trace the history of both genres, the real pioneers were groups like Bark Psychosis, Don Caballero, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Rodan, and Mogwai.
To categorise ‘Spiderland’ as a math/post-rock record is not only to pigeonhole it, and to hold it to musical standards that did not yet exist, but to ignore its crucial individuality and, bizarrely given that it was recorded by a band only just in their 20s, its perfection. ‘Spiderland’ is one of those rare records that it is hard to imagine being improved. It’s minimalist without necessarily being simple. It’s powerful without being overwrought. Instead of being the start of something, ‘Spiderland’ is the peak of the American underground rock movement that produced bands like Dinosaur Jr. and Sonic Youth.
A big part of the ‘Spiderland’ experience comes from the lyrics and vocals, mostly provided by Brian McMahan (although drummer BrittWalford sings on Don, Aman). Without them it would be half the record it is and throughout the lyrical style is something akin to an alternative rock Cormac McCarthy. The actual words are simple and entirely unremarkable, creating a narrative that is descriptive but unemotional.
Far below, a soiled man. A bucket of torn tickets at his side.
He watches as the children run by. And picks his teeth. Spinning around, my head begins to turn. I shouted, and searched the sky for a friend.
I heard the fortune teller, screaming back at me. We stuck out our hands, and met the winds.
(Breadcrumb Trail)
Delivered mostly with restraint and placed almost exclusively low in the mix, the lyrics are abstract enough to accentuate Slint’s strangeness but also human enough in their descriptions to make the detached musical template seem more alive, more human, even strangely comforting. It’s only at the conclusion of the album when words and vocals reach a screamed fever pitch.
I miss you.
I've grown taller now.
I want the police to be notified.
I'll make it up to you,
I swear, I'll make it up to you.
I miss you.
(Good Morning, Captain)
The last minute or so of Good Morning, Captain - also the last minute or so of ‘Spiderland’ and the last minute or so of Slint’s discography - is the only moment on the record where the mask slips. It’s a brief glimpse into the psyche of a record that, after it was recorded, spawned rumours that members of the band had checked into a psychiatric hospital.
Whether that’s true or not we’ll never know. Guitarist David Pajo is an open interviewee (a recent feature with him in Rock-A-Rolla is a good starting point) and his cooperation with Scott Tennent on the latter’s excellent ‘Spiderland’ book, as part of Continuum’s 33 1/3 series, is illuminating. McMahan did not make himself available for interview for that book, though, and when he does speak to the press he clearly prefers to talk about subjects relating to the band as a whole rather than to him personally.
This lack of concrete information is all part of what makes ‘Spiderland’ so special. Thanks to the internet we are now a few keystrokes away from almost all the information we could possibly want about almost every band going. Even notoriously shadowy groups, such as Norwegian black metal pioneers Mayhem, are nowhere near as mysterious now as their legacy suggests they should be. Even the legends of Mayhem’s Dead and Euronymous, both long gone from this world, have been stripped back to reality by various interviews in recent years.
That hasn’t happened with Slint. They have reformed twice, once in 2005 and then again last year, without producing new material, but little more about the band has surfaced. Their live performances have been, in the eyes of many attendees, almost painfully awkward, with the band spending as much time on stage tuning their guitars as playing. Even Breadcrumb Trail, a new documentary about the band by Lance Bangs, doesn’t claim to provide all the answers. If you ask me, that mystery is an inherent part of why ‘Spiderland’ remains so untouchable, even if it’s not the birthplace of post-rock and math rock.
The ultimate in rock music is to be unparalleled, and that’s what ‘Spiderland’ achieved for Slint. Partly because we don’t understand them, and partly because we recognise that they stand completely alone in a genre of one, Slint continue to inspire and intrigue more than most music fans commonly realise. So, here’s to the zenith of American rock, to the mountain that will never be scaled. Here’s to ‘Spiderland’. Here’s to Slint.
‘Spiderland’ is reissued by Touch and Go records on April 15 as a limited edition box set featuring a remastered version of the album, several bonus tracks and the ‘Breadcrumb Trail’ documentary. Also, check out Joe Kennedy’s excellent piece about Slint’s lyrics, which you can read on The Quietus.
Breadcrumb Trail is being screened in several venues across the UK and Ireland:
Thu March 27 2014 - BELFAST The Garrick
Sat March 29 2014 - READING South Street Arts Centre
Sun March 30 2014 - LONDON ICA
Mon March 31 2014 - BRIGHTON Duke's At Komedia
Tue April 1 2014 - LEEDS Hyde Park Picture House
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