Dead Bands: Slint
Dead Bands is a recurring feature in which I review any given band which has produced its last album; these bands aren’t going to reform, and therefore their entire work can be considered as a whole.
Technically, Slint are an occasionally-going concern; they have reformed several times in the last 25 years. The thing is, they’ve added very little to the existing canon — “King’s Approach”, a ten-minute piece, appears to be the entirety of it. There might be more, but we’re not about to get a deluge.
Slint, as lead “singer” Brian McMahon has pointed out, were really a 1980s band, who split up at the end of 1990. Their comet-like trajectory consisted of the “rock” of their actual existence being followed by a bright tail of acclaim, sales and influence throughout the remainder of the 1990s, still visible even today, with Spiderland a reliable inclusion in the lower reaches of “Best Albums of All Time” lists.
But they made two albums. First: Tweez.
Tweez
Tweez might be one of the most overlooked albums in rock music history; there’s no greater illustration of this than the fact that, on Spotify, the top 8 tracks are either from Spiderland (including one outtake on the special edition — yes, the bonus disc gets more attention), or “Glenn” from the Slint EP. This is despite the fact that this is Spotify, and therefore Tweez does not require rummaging around in grimy record stores, or even a quick search through iTunes — it is right there, underneath Spiderland. Even when you cram this album into people’s ears, they still don’t hear it.
But of course, this album doesn’t have it’s successor’s mythos. If anything, it counters it, from the nonsensical title, the non-indicative artwork, to its opening ‘lyrics’ (“Oh, um, alright. Steve, these headphones are fucked up”). It’s possible to discern that Slint are the same band on this album as on their second — there is a certain Gothic air to parts of it, and the jump-cut rhythms foreshadow the back half of “Nosferatu Man”, but there isn’t the same focus.
Where there are actual lyrics, they’re impressionistic (“Past where the river bends/Past where the silo stands/Past where they paint the houses”) rather than telling any kind of narrative. The lo-fi production, limited guitar tones and similar chords give the whole thing a slightly monochrome feel. There is a feeling, too, that some of these songs are practice runs for later songs — compare “Kent” with “Don, Aman”, particularly in their use of chugging midsections used to build tension, although here the lyrics — just four lines — paint more intrigue than the rest of the album’s often-random outbursts.
For all its faults, though, Tweez lasts 29 minutes, and as such, never overstays its welcome. But if art depends on intent and skilled execution, then Tweez is half there — it’s well-executed aimlessness.
6
Spiderland
There are many things to note about Spiderland. Musically, it is pretty much unique; the twin guitars, up and down-picked, the dynamic shifts in volume, tempo and rhythm, the sheer space around it rarely allowed on modern albums, all contribute to the effect. At 39 minutes and 38 seconds, it is an epic alongside Tweez, but there’s still little, if no fat on it. Even “Washer”, which I’d argue is the weakest track here, needs the time for its build. And yes, the timing — this is what makes it musically. Not one move is a beat out of place.
There are five (six, if you can work in the instrumental somehow) stories on this album, the lyrics prompting different theories in every review and retrospective: this Popmatters review, for example, posits that it’s about dreams. I’d argue these songs are about masculinity, and the male experience. All five narrators on this album are male, as are all viewpoint characters. Contrary to Jonathan Gerber’s theory, I suspect the protagonist of “Nosferatu Man” seems amoral because he is; the rapist and abusive husband are one end of the spectrum, just as “Don, Aman” shows the crippling social phobia at the other. A century of feminist writing has shown that men, as a group, are strong — often overwhelmingly so. But Spiderland also shows, without denying this, how men individually are often weak and vulnerable, whether heartbroken (“Washer”), trapped by their own thoughts and routines (“For Dinner…”) or the expendable gender, cast into the dangerous work by society’s values (“Good Morning, Captain”).
Maybe I’m reaching. But Spiderland has more ideas, musical and lyrical, in forty minutes than many bands have in decades-long careers. It is a remarkable evolution from Tweez. It is, deservedly, regarded as a classic, and a hell of an album to end on.
10
See also: the Slint EP, containing “Glenn”, and an extended “Rhoda” from Tweez; also “King’s Approach”, never released but played live at shows in 2007, in which Slint decided to show Battles who’s really in charge, here.
Overall
Best of Tweez: “Carol”, “Kent”, “Rhoda”.
Best of Spiderland: all except “Washer”
