Album Review: Slint- Spiderland (reissue)

Since nostalgia is such a big thing right now, I think we can all agree that 1991 was an incredibly #blessed year for music. It was the year that gave us Loveless, Blue Lines, The Low End Theory, and Nevermind, amongst countless others. Those retrospectives have all come and gone, ending with countless thinkpieces written about the lasting effects of “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” or the confusing 21^st anniversary edition of Loveless, complete with both digital and analog remasters that sound exactly the same.

But imagine if you will that we keep the ball rolling, and we welcome, with open arms, the 23^rd anniversary reissue or Slint’s Spiderland.

Well, just who the hell are Slint, you may be asking yourself.

Hailing from Kentucky, originally, the band rose to underground prominence, and then promptly dissolved around the time of the release of 1991’s Spiderland, a landmark “post-rock” album, regarded as a classic, and a noted influence on countless post-rock bands to come in its wake.

Released on the Chicago imprint Touch and Go, a seminal label in the 90s that folded in the last five years due to the economy (thanks Obama), the band has been occasionally reuniting to perform Spiderland in its entirety, since that’s what people want from reunited bands. So roughly, 23 years and change after Spiderland’s initial release, Touch and Go temporarily got its shit together to put out a limited edition (3,000-ish copies only) boxed set, priced upwards of $150, including CDs, LPs, and a DVD documentary on the band.

Apparently people who like post-rock also have a disposable income, so this sold out a long time ago. For an album that I only really have a passing interest in, $150 was a bit of a steep price tag for me. But now I have all these neat mp3s to listen to.

Spiderland, as an album, is most certainly an acquired taste. It’s very brief—only six songs, but the shortest clocks in at five minutes, and the longest at nearly nine. It’s really the kind of record that you have to be in the right frame of mind to listen to, let alone enjoy, and honestly, at times, it gets a little samey sounding. I started dabbling with Spiderland towards the end of 2012, but with its iconic cover art, and constant name checking, I was well aware of it before then.

Because of the sheer density of Spiderland, it honestly feels a lot longer than the half hour running time. That’s not to say that it’s a bad record, but it just doesn’t move very quickly. I suppose you can’t expect eight-minute tracks to just clip along like it ain’t no thang. But it’s a journey that’s for sure.

Slint really perfected that whole quiet/loud/quiet thing here—I mean, right out of the gate on “Breadcrumb Trail;” it begins so unassumingly and kind of meanders around here and there before kicking into gear, with frontman Brian McMahan letting loose with an absolutely larynx shredding scream, with crunchy feedback exploding around him.

Part of the longstanding charm of Spiderland is the production value, or lack there of. The band’s debut LP, Tweez, was recorded with the legendary Steve Albini, who actually prefers not to be referred to as a producer, but as just an engineer. At the boards for Spiderland was Albini disciple Brian Paulsen, and it’s Albini’s bro Bob Weston who oversaw the remastering for this deluxe reissue.

But on an album this raw sounding, how much remastering is necessary?

Well the good news is that much of that “in the room” atmosphere has been left intact. Notably, the drums sound incredible—the sheer aggression that drummer Britt Walford’s plays with at times really drives the whole album, along with the ramshackle, dissonant guitar playing.

While listening to Spiderland, I’ve been spending some time reading up about it online via various Wikipedia entries, as well as the glowing “Best New Reissue” review it was given on Pitchfork. It’s interesting to hear that how hastily it was recorded—roughly in a weekend—with the lyrics apparently an afterthought. The album’s Wikipedia claims that the creation of the record pushed members of the band to a psychotic breaking point.

There’s really no way of knowing if that is true or not, but it only adds to the mystique surrounding it. It’s also interesting to think that the lyrics were a last minute addition while in the studio—they all seem loosely connected, and well thought out. “Good Morning, Captain,” is allegedly based on The Rime of The Ancient Mariner, and all of the songs that include vocals around moments of mumbled spoken word poetry, alternating with bursts of violent and punishing shouts.

What commemorative reissue is complete with out a bunch of ephemera?

The second disc is made up a diverse mix of odds and ends, including a 9 minute live cover of a Neil Young song, post-Spiderland band demos that were abandoned after Slint broke up, two outtakes that didn’t make the cut of the final record, practice records, demos, etc. You get it. The outtakes are neat to hear—“Pam,” and “Glenn,” both instrumentals, may not have fit in well with the final product. Of the two “Glenn” is the most Spiderlandy, while “Pam” is the entirely too straightforward of a “rock” song.

There are also some things that are NOT neat to hear, like the final three tracks—“riff tape” recordings for three songs. I’m not even sure even the hardest of hard-core Slint fans need that pressed onto 180 gram vinyl.

It feels a little weird reviewing the mp3s of a thing that has been long since sold out, that will certainly be available on Ebay or Discogs for double the price. But just looking at the six-song album itself, it is something everybody should hear at least once give its status as a legendary, influential album. Post-rock may not be your favorite theoretical genre, but maybe it’ll speak to you. It’s an incredibly stark, claustrophobic listening experience. Spiderland is like a weird, half-dream, half-nightmare. Something about it reminded me of the book House of Leaves for some reason. It’s a bizarre, truly original juxtaposition of something that is both incredibly off-putting and inviting at the same time.

While the 23rd Anniversary Edition of Spiderland may be long gone now, the regular ass editions of it on vinyl and compact disc are still readily available.