Slint - Spiderland

If any rock historian were asked where the core energy of post-rock resides, two answers emerge: London-based Talk Talk and Kentucky natives Slint. Undoubtedly the grandparents of the genre, Talk Talk approached the arena from the angle of art rock and new wave, however, Slint came from a darker path, paved with elements of what would become math-rock and post-hardcore. Their second and final record Spiderland is a reckless excursion that is constantly shifting gears, from passionately dismal swamps that slow down the body, to tortured takeoffs that see the band wallow in the depths of despair. “Washer” bears all of this on the longest passage on the album. Coated in an uneasy, sinister tone spun from a stiff, dusty guitar, it lulls into a false mode of comfort before switching tempo throughout. Hushed vocals are present and unchanging through the hysteria, making the ride especially chilling, then after the final verse, the band changes lanes and gives way to an ungodly crescendo, sounding strangled and gasping for air, it harnesses the essence of the story behind the instrumentation, of what seems to be a final goodbye. Few albums drive the same highway as Spiderland’s, not because of its compositional components, but through its performative intricacies. As well as being a massive touchstone for post-rock, math-rock and post-hardcore, Spiderland is a drive-by across a desolate back-country of unfiltered despondency.