Spiderland is a work of art that simply can never be properly explained, as it is original in every sense of the word. For many listeners including myself, it also leaves an emotional imprint that few albums ever could. Slint’s sound was one like no other, mixing together Post-Hardcore, Math Rock, and Post-Rock, and as time goes by, they remain influential in all three of these genres. The songs are usually started in a slow, icy crawl, with chilling riffs, and one of my favorite parts of the record, spoken word vocals. They are delivered in a way that is both sinister and beautiful, just as the music is behind them, and they only add to the emotional impact of every track (excluding the instrumental song “For Dinner…”), often rising up out of their quiet in a roar during some of the records most emotive moments, with the rest of the band following suite. Slint uses this quiet to loud dynamic throughout Spiderland, especially on the first two tracks “Breadcrumb Trail” and “Nosferatu Man,” which may make it seem like these songs are repetitive and predictable, but that is far from the case. Every note, especially on the first few listens, is a profound moment, and any hint of repetition is neither boring nor predictable, but completely hypnotizing.
However, not every track uses this formula, specifically “Don, Aman,” which happens to be one of the most prominent examples of the spoken word vocals/lyrics ability to drive these songs. They are soulless, almost mechanical, but nonetheless riveting and poetic. To continue to use “Don, Aman” as an example; Britt Walford’s character Don is the song. The character’s battle against social anxiety is what drives every second of it, as well as every note Britt and David Pajo pluck on their guitars. With nothing more than Britt’s vocals and the two guitars, Don’s struggle becomes one of the most intimate moments on Spiderland.
”Don, Aman” is followed by the most gorgeous track on the album, “Washer”. It is the only song here that features sung lyrics, delivered by guitarist Brian McMahan in a frail, broken voice, propelled by Britt’s always perfectly placed drum hits, Todd Bashear’s bass lines, and Pajo’s absolutely beautiful guitar picking. It is truly something I marvel at every time I hear it, regardless of how many times I have listened to this record. Every note and sound is perfect (a word I do not use lightly by any means, but easily applies in some way to every song on this album), even the sound of Pajo’s hand sliding down the neck of the guitar. It ends with the lyrics, “my head is empty, my toes are warm, I am safe from harm,” as it builds into a roar of guitar. It is one of this album’s most breathtaking moments, something it is in no short supply of. I can say confidently that if heaven truly exists, this will be the soundtrack to mine.
”For, Dinner…” a slow and tame instrumental piece, follows “Washer” as if to allow a calm before the storm that is “Good Morning, Captain.” This track features some of Britt Walford’s most impressive drumming, and it is where I realized just how much of a genius he really is (he is also the brain behind much of this album, including it’s sequencing). Brian’s vocals are arguably the most important part of this song, as the story works with the musical backdrop to build more tension with each passing second. It is almost as if the entire album was building up just to explode at the very last minute; a soft spoken, “I’m sorry…I miss you” is whispered at the story’s end, then a painful scream repeats the simple, yet powerful phrase, “I miss you.” Quite simply, it is the best finale on any album I have heard yet. According to Britt Walford, during the weekend long recording of the album (yes, only a weekend), Brian recorded those last vocals on a whim, and initially wasn’t sure if he wanted it to remain part of the song. He came out of the booth soaked in sweat, completely drained, and later checked himself into a mental hospital.
After reissuing Spiderland in a box set this past April (which I bought, of course), the band went on a tour to promote its release. Fortunately for me, I got to experience them live when they hit Paradise Rock Club in Boston. I approached Britt Walford after the show (after spending money on overpriced merch I don’t need, naturally) to personally thank him for the impact his music has had on me, as it is some of the only music that I would ever consider “life changing.” I shook his hand, looked him in the eyes, and thanked him for everything he has done. He returned my thanks and looked at me with eyes that would suggest he hears this type of thing every day, but is surprised and humbled every time
