Okay…I’ll start with the ‘credit where it’s due’ portion of these rants from which I do so enjoy reaping your pleas of “Foul!!!” Sure, at least half of Spiderland is very well crafted; heavy with the kind of sad, somber, creepy nerd atmosphere that makes it perfect for long drives/walks through rural areas on overcast days or makeout sessions with people who consider themselves beautifully outcasted. Nothing wrong with all that I ‘spose, but….
Funny thing about Slint…I was seventeen or so when they were touring in support of Tweez, their first album. I was really excited because I’d been a really big Squirrelbait fan (and, if you haven’t heard Squirrelbait, imagine a less overrated Hüsker Dü with better hooks and fuelled by more adolescent piss and vinegar) and, well, Slint was ex-‘bait (Brian McMahon was Squirrelbait’s second guitarist, Britt Walford had played on their first album). Granted, I wasn’t expecting Squirrelbait. The week leading up to the show, the local community radio station had been playing songs off of Tweez, which sounded nothing like Squirrelbait, which was fine. They were closer, sonically, at the time, to Big Black and Rapeman except…well, a noodly, jammy, unfocused cousin to Albini and Co’s steely bludgeoning.
Maybe I was just young and didn’t know what to make of it, but now I’m older and I do. It still chugs choad. Truth be told, even Slint’s fans realize Tweez pretty much blows. No song on that fucking album gels, ever, really. They don’t even really begin or end, they just kind of start and then trail off. It’s like trying to have a conversation with that acquaintance you have who can never finish a thought and so just giggles to himself and says “sorry” every third word. Sure, there are a couple of decent riffs, some harmonics that sound like the tune in Close Encounters and some fun, busy drum work but, as a whole, it’s pretty much useless.
Know what? Remember that show I was anticipating? Well…wouldn’t you know it? Live, they sucked too! The songs they didn’t have on vinyl were equally annoying non-songs live, and non-songs delivered with all the enthusiasm of four dudes who would rather eat a Twinkie and have a fart than deliver music. Fuck, it’s not like I was expecting these Louisville twats to treat the stage like a trampoline, but jeez…get out of the cubicle once in while why don’tcha?
So then there was Spiderland, which proved to be about as seminal as Marquee Moon (and, one could argue, the two albums are, at the very least, sonic cousins to one another). Yippee. They opened up what would be one of the dullest chapters in indie rock. Every cunt in the nineties with a guitar started strumming octave chords through their clean channel and then, at the moment of (yawn) climax, strummed pretty much the same chord through their gain. And if you had TWO guitarists, look out. That meant you had TWO dudes intricately strumming clean octaves before hitting that distortion. I mean…whoa…
Still, could the same band who kerplutzed through their unfinished noise-rock jam sessions on one album be as dull playing songs that, at least at the time, seemed a little more crafted and heartfelt, live?
Well… fast forward to their 2005 reunion show at the Metro. For one, what’s up with Brian McMahon not playing guitar except on one song? What? He’s decided he’s a frontman, despite being about as much fun to watch as a stale dinner roll? The band themselves are such a void of any form of presence or charisma that it’s doubtful they even belong in a rock audience let alone in front of one. They schlubbed through their set like five guys who were maybe having a decent rehearsal, had to go back to retiling the roof right after and then were maybe gonna go watch a little TV. Yes, fifteen years later, Slint still holds the gold standard for boring as shit stagecraft. Hell, without them, Tortoise might actually show some life.
The prospect of seeing Slint live is really about as exciting as watching the Brown Bunny in reverse. Still, the teeming throngs of gullible Caucasians* that will be populating Pitchfork will convince themselves it’s good. More power to them, I guess. They could save themselves some cash and just put the album on and then tape the cover up on their wall or something. At least on the cover they appear to be enjoying themselves.
Lame is always and forever the new fun.
*Okay…I realize that’s not entirely fair or true. There’s certain to be at least a handful of Asians milling about Union Park that weekend.
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Still, the teeming throngs of gullible Caucasians* that will be populating Pitchfork will convince themselves it’s good
I yearn for the day I can say that about rap and its audience, and not be accused of being an asshole.
And don’t get me wrong, there are always a handful of white dudes at rap concerts…..
I dunno… I think it’s a pretty good record.
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Comment by JoshD — July 5, 2007 @ 1:39 pm
You know, you’re pretty much right (although somehow I like Tweez. I think I’m just amazed that a band could spend 38 minutes building up to…absolutely nothing. Over and over) but my problem with your sacred-cow articles is that you always blame the band for their followers and imitators. It’s really futile.