Slint

Slint were one of the most influential groups of their time.

From the highest branch of the most complicated genealogical tree of the Squirrel Bait, Slint was formed through the work of guitarist Brian McMahon (not to be confused with Brian McMahon of the Electric Eels) and drummer Britt Walford, with Ethan Buckler on base and David Pajo on second guitar. The group recorded some sessions in 1987 with Steve Albini, which would not be brought to light until two years later. Their sound was something completely new. It was governed by an instrumental chemistry that was delicate, feverish and fractured all at the same time. It melted together techniques of acid, progressive and punk rock, as well as free-jazz and chamber music of the avant-guard.

The album Tweez (Jennifer Hartman, 1989) is one of the most revolutionary works in rock history. Every piece is dedicated to a parent of the quartet (and even the dog of one of them) -- not even Robert Wyatt had ever succeeded in composing such abstract dedications. The music is conceptual, heavily rhythmic (often counter rhythm), nervously noisy and mostly instrumental. It is committed to a stormy tonality and contorted designs, completely outside its classification. The atmosphere, at the same time ethereal and dense, continually comes back into play. It's like listening to a much more eclectic and extravagant version of Big Black.
The instrumental score of pieces like Ron initiates the driving force of punk rock with the improvisation of old progressive rock. The group continually reinvents its own style, often mixing a touch of the traditional with techniques of the avantguarde or jazz. The country and western figures of Pat are disfigured with a dissonant digression and jazzed up by the guitar. The instrumental Rhoda is practically entirely comprised of the striking attack of toneless guitar pitches typical of Big Black. The mutated blues of Kent is a refined masterpiece of dramatic development, instrumental lacing, counterpoints and counterbalances. And Nan Ding boasts one of the most creative guitar solos of the time.
The emotions provoked by these abstract concepts are similar to those demonstrated by a difficult mathematical theorem than those of adolescents in search of excitement. The burning riffs, the mechanical cadences, the "sounds" of Charlotte and Carol, the galloping rhythms and the deafening distortions of Warren, instead constitute the music's darker side. At the same time the delicate atmospheres of Darlene allow us to enter a spiral of light in a work that is a dense crowding of innovative ideas.

Spiderland (Touch & Go, 1991) is a masterpieces in rock history. Leveraging from experiments of preceding years, Slint is now completing a more sophisticated search on rhythm and resonance, culminating in an almost transcendental quality.
Instead of being simple abstract panels, pieces like Breadcrumb Trail are "narration's", which no matter how complicated and convoluted, continue a dramatic harmonic zigzag (as founded in blues).
The lattice continuously dilates and contracts. Don Aman indulges in an avant-garde performance by playing with guitar chords such that, if played at the correct tempo, would be melodious, but played with longer and irregular pauses, are only a sequence of chords. The effect is hypnotic however, much like in New Age acoustic pieces, even if confounded with a very "rock" neurosis. Washer, with its whispered lullaby, sickening beats, and slow development, is derived as much from "nocturnal" blues as from the broader acid rock, which calls to mind the "slowcore" of Codeine (and Pajo's one-note guitar solo). For Dinner is an even more "narcotic", anemic, seething and drowsy piece, perhaps the "romantic" zenith of the album.
Almost all the pieces among this delirium are the improvised beginnings of hard rock. Nosferatu Man is probably the one most stricken by these starts. The last piece, Good Morning Captain, acts as a small resurgence of all of these lofty techniques, alternating itself with tones of a wearied guitar, neglected percussion tempos and haunting vocals. The effect is exactly that of erecting an iceberg for tragic suspense. It constitutes one of the most upsetting musical narrations in the history of modern rock.
This is what makes Spiderland a monumental work, in its capacity to construct rock music without reconstructing the stereotypes of its genre, without recourse to iconic sounds or prefabricated codes, that have always constituted the principle channels of rock expression.

Spiderland doesn't attenuate the experimental grasp of the Slint's sound. Rather, it accents the Louisville band's search for rhythm and timbre. The coarse blues in "Kent" and "Breadcrumb Trail" feature harmonies that are just as chaotic and interlocutory than on the group's first record. Brian McMahon indulges in a concert of avant-garde guitar chords that, played in a normal tempo, would be melodic. But played with such long, irregular breaks, are only a sequence - a hypnotic effect mirrored in the acoustic passages of new age music and ravaged by Slint's very "rock" neuroses. The slow progressions of "Washer," with its whispers and pulsations, owe more to night-time blues than acid-rock, giving birth to the music of future slow-core progenitors such as Codeine. "For Dinner" is even more narcotic, anemic and drowsy.
Almost all of the passages, despite these excursions, feature sudden winces of hard, hard rock, with "Nosferatu Man" perhaps more struck by this than any other track. The closer, "Good Morning Captain," seems to summarize all of these highbrow techniques, alternating between fragments of irritable guitar and haunting vocal recitations. The effect erects an iceberg of tragic suspense, and actually constitutes a true upsetting of modern rock history.
Spiderland expresses emotions often put aside in modern rock, bucking stereotypes and never resorting to the prefabricated ideas of earlier sonic icons. Slint have achieved the nirvana of alternative rock, wedding masterful playing, thoughtful composing and lyrical expression to a degree seldom reached by popular music.