Slint - Spiderland (1991)

Hello and welcome to a new series called Giant Undertow. Originally, I was going to write an essay with this title and talk about Neil Young’s impact on younger artists and the music industry. I may still do that, but first I wanted to talk about some of my favorite albums that feel inspired by Neil’s music and ethos.

Ten f***ing stars. (Steve Albini, Melody Maker, March 30, 1991)

In 10th grade, I was just emerging from a heavy metal phase and discovering all sorts of new music. As I’ve talked about before, Neil Young loomed large at this time for me, and I was making connections with new bands, either unconsciously (Nirvana) or consciously (Pearl Jam). One important event I’ll always remember is standing in the lunch line with a PJ shirt on, and this older kid coming over to me to say he liked my shirt. He was cool: longer hair, t-shirt over long sleeve shirt, baggy jeans, Converse. This was Steve, who sort of became the cool older brother I never had by introducing me to underground music with a series of mixtapes that opened my eyes. The very first mixtape had Pavement, My Bloody Valentine, Godflesh, Sebadoh, The Wedding Present, and a song called “Don, Aman” by Slint (“the band already disbanded, they went crazy making the album,” Steve said. Classic cool big brother talk. My eyes probably fell out of my face. Didn’t matter it wasn’t precisely true.)

I’ll admit that “Don, Aman” is my least favorite song on Spiderland, but it was still an album I went out to buy on the strength of Steve’s recommendation. And it blew me away immediately. I won’t recount the history of Slint here, but suffice to say this was a very young band from Louisville, who had only recorded one album before Spiderland. McMahan was treated for depression after making the album, and that’s why the band called it quits. Also where the myth comes from. The album cover photo by Will Oldham certainly has a “last seen” look to it, only adding to the mystique.

The music behind that Utica Quarry photograph, though, that’s the real intrigue. It’s dynamic, mysterious, sad, dark, but it also really rocks. Which could be said about our patron saint as well. Brian McMahan seems like the Neil head in the band,* and I think his presence in Slint is what shaped the sparse arrangements with very few chords, minimal notes. It’s a carefully composed album, extremely intentional. Steve Albini name checked Crazy Horse in the infamous Melody Maker review I quoted, and Oldham (long time friend of the band) included Neil in the list of artists swirling around their group in his Spiderland (remastered) liner notes. You can absolutely hear Zuma in Spiderland. Unbeknownst to me, Slint had covered “Cortez the Killer” in Chicago two years before Spiderland came out. Listening to their rendition, it’s apparent that the slow, spacious, and cinematic song was a touchstone for them in the run-up to Spiderland. Simple riffs laden with emotion and mystery, played for keeps. That’s what David Briggs would call the “spook.” And Spiderland has the spook in spades. In a way, I was primed for this album.

In contrast to Crazy Horse, though, Slint is meticulous. Four of the songs on Spiderland were rehearsed for months ahead of recording, with members dedicated to working out every single detail, hour after hour: “Breadcrumb Trail,” “Nosferatu Man,” “Washer,” and “Good Morning, Captain.” “Don, Aman” and “For Dinner” are both excellent songs, but they don’t quite have the same granular detail the other four songs do. Those details are what give the album its impact, in my opinion. And the most remarkable thing is that this vibrant, extremely well-honed album was recorded and mixed in only two weekends. This was a band that was about preparation and execution. No wonder they burned out.

“Breadcrumb Trail” finds guitarist David Pajo flexing his heavy metal chops to punctuate an eerie carnival tale. Britt Walford’s drums are sharp as a tack and Todd Brashear’s bass floats up and down, along with McMahan’s spoken (and screamed) story. A notable thing about the recording of the album is that all the vocals were recorded afterwards. That overdubbing of the spoken elements creates a separation, a kind of floating above the music, which really emphasizes the detached feeling. It’s like true narration.

I always think of “Breadcrumb Trail” and “Nosferatu Man” as a pair. There’s a similar rolling percussion to them, a bob and weave that propel them. The former is truly evoking the rollercoaster of its lyrics, while the latter adds a menacing prowl, befitting its namesake. I love the interplay of the bass and the bent-note guitar on “Nosferatu Man”; it has elements of folk, blues, and psych. It also belies the crushing lead guitar that is about to descend, creating the sudden horror the song needs.

While I said above that “Don, Aman” is my least favorite song on Spiderland, that’s not to say it’s a bad song. It’s just so unlike everything else on the album, it doesn’t strike me in the same way. Britt Walford trades his drums for a guitar and a mic as he narrates this tale of social anxiety to startling effect. As Pajo accompanies him on guitar, the song goes from mounting unease to full blown panic attack represented by heavily distorted guitar dropping back down to cleaner guitar. It’s uncomfortable, frank, and remarkable. The song ends with the narrator seeing his friends, ostensibly his comfort, but that nasty distortion fades in briefly again just before the end of the song…

If “Don, Aman” is my least favorite song on Spiderland, “Washer” is my absolute favorite. Eight minutes of heart rending emotion, beauty, hopelessness, loss, terrifying anguish, and finally peaceful release. In music journalism, “epic” gets thrown around a lot. Writers should be required to compare everything they think is epic to this song. It slowly unfolds, punctuated by tense buildups that dissipate over and over again until the ultimate, brief end. For a song that appears to be about suicide, it feels sadly apt. McMahan employs actual singing on this song as well. Imperfect and vulnerable, his voice’s frailty reminds me of another artist for sure. The way every line is punctuated by the guitars, bass, and Walford’s immaculate drums gets me every time. There’s an oft-mentioned lullaby aspect to the guitar in the early moments of the song. That’s an incredibly laden reference to make as sleeping pills factor heavily into the lyrics. There’s so much beauty in this song and every element contributes to it, but when the dam breaks, it breaks hard. Pajo turns his full stack on, and this is where the Neil Young feeling also comes for me. It’s like listening to “Like a Hurricane” for a small moment, when Neil stomps the Whizzer and goes for the roof. Can’t ask for much more.

Wait, there’s two more songs? “For Dinner…” is one of the last written songs, and is comparatively simple, consisting of repeating riffs and rhythms slowly rising and falling for five minutes. It would be a showstopper on any other album. If it appeared in a film, it would be soundtracking the climax. However, let’s turn to the most well-known song on Spiderland: “Good Morning, Captain.” Owing a lot to its appearance on the Kids soundtrack, it re-entered the indie rock circles four years after Spiderland, mostly due to the popularity of Folk Implosion’s “Natural One.” All credit to Lou Barlow for including it alongside his own band’s music, even if “Good Morning, Captain” doesn’t actually appear in the movie.

Sometimes considered a loose retelling of Rime of the Ancient Mariner, it’s wholly its own thing, a spooky ghost story told through chiming guitar, pummeling drums, and McMahan’s memorable finale howl. It’s clearly the most accomplished, full song on the album, firing on all cylinders. As the final statement for the album, it pulls in elements of everything that precedes it. Rolling bass, cascades of drums, intricate rhythm guitars, piercing lead, somber narration, and emotional screaming. The final section of McMahan repeating “I miss you” is hair raising. It’s a perfect way to end the album, and something that will never leave the listener.

Spiderland was released in March 1991. Nirvana’s Nevermind and Pearl Jam’s Ten were released months later. I loved both of the latter albums, but Spiderland is the one I regularly come back to and think about. In the rare moments I seriously try to make a Top Ten Albums of All Time!, it’s always there. I can’t imagine that ever changing.

Top 3:

1. Washer
2. Good Morning, Captain
3. Nosferatu Man

*From Scott Tennent’s 33 1/3rd book on Spiderland comes an anecdote about McMahan coming to practice and seeing the guys goof around with the Batman theme for so long, he left. Went upstairs, played both sides of On The Beach on headphones, came downstairs and decided that he needed to leave the band.

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