The For Carnation by The For Carnation

If you thought Spiderland was the only masterpiece from Slint's world, think again

Click here to listen to the album as you read

If you are reading this, I’d imagine you are already aware of the post-rock masterpiece that is Slint’s Spiderland. It is a record that landed very quietly in 1991 and instantly caught the attention of people like yours truly because it held a kind of quiet defiance to the entire grunge explosion that was occurring at the time.

Spiderland has since slowly grown in status, aided by numerous artists citing it as a massive influence, and is now widely hailed as a landmark album of the time. If you’ve not already watched Lance Bangs’ excellent Breadcrumb Trail documentary, made back in 2014, I’d urge you to do so, as the whole thing is now on YouTube to watch for free:

I think part of the interest and appeal around Spiderland was that the band themselves were painfully fame-averse. These weren’t a bunch of guys courting the press and making grandiose announcements; as the documentary shows, they were almost baffled by the status the record had achieved and their general demeanour is painfully introspective and understated.

Slint split not long after Spiderland was released. They would eventually reform a few times, driven by the new acclaim they found themselves in, but no new music has emerged. The For Carnation, however, remains arguably the most slept-on project of all those from Slint’s band members, which is perverse when I’d argue their self-titled album is a classic in its own right.

There are perhaps higher-profile offshoots from Slint. David Pajo in particular, was briefly part of Billy Corgan’s Smashing Pumpkins distraction Zwan, as well as enjoying time in Tortoise. As Papa M he also released the excellent Live From A Shark’s Cage and as Aerial M released a self-titled gem that bears the most obvious sonic lineage back to Slint. I also recommend his 1968 album as Pajo, which takes a slightly different tone, but still retains that gentle, post-rock kind of style.

The other members of Slint also popped up on Will Oldham’s solo outing as Palace Brothers, There Is No One What Will Take Care Of You, a very pastoral record appearing two years after Spiderland with plenty of banjo and homemade percussion, giving it a raw, home-recorded feel. It was almost another conscious statement against the grunge movement of the time, side-stepping rock altogether to make something that felt wilfully uncool.

Slint’s guitarist and vocalist Brian McMahan would play on a couple more Palace Brothers albums, before forming The For Carnation and releasing a couple of EPs, Fight Songs and Marshmallows in 1995 and 1996 respectively. (Both are now compiled on the Collected Works compilation.)

It wasn’t until 2000, however, that The For Carnation released what I would say remains one of my most treasured albums, their self-titled masterpiece.

The For Carnation is an exercise in tension, minimalism and atmosphere. The opening track, Emp. Man’s Blues, feels like a challenge to the listener. With a glacially slow tempo, I wouldn’t judge someone playing this on vinyl checking that they had it on the wrong speed.

Most songs seek to fill space; to create a density of sound. Emp. Man’s Blues does the opposite; the drums are barely there, the melody is bleak and sparse, and about the only thing breaking the tension is an occasional keyboard motif, there as if to provide levity.

The vocals continue this theme; not so much sung as spoken, in a manner that Slint fans would definitely find familiar. It is calm, controlled, measured - largely free of emotion, though at times just hinting at a quiet defiance through lines like “my days of seeing you are done”.

Strings eventually fade in and out, but at no point is there a sense this song is building to anything. This is a languorous piece, moving at its own speed, forcing you to slow down, to sink into its world. To do so has you tuning into the atmosphere of the track, too - a dark, measured place, not so much foreboding as just one operating at a different pace of life altogether.

Creating so much from so little takes serious skill. I’d argue this song is also the reason this album remains so slept-on. As an opening track, it’s almost wilfully trying to put you off, because this is definitely not a song that you will ‘get’ on first listen. Quite the opposite: it requires investment to find the reward.

Moving past the opening track, the mood changes with A Tribute To. Slightly more uptempo, bordering on busy compared to its predecessor, the vocal remains (as it does throughout the album) a quiet, spoken delivery. On this song however, you have far more going on. The drums propel with solid weight, and the synths deliver atmospheric touches that draw you in once again, with whooshes and flashes suggesting drama still to come.

A Tribute To arguably defines one wider theme of this album: tension and release. The song keeps building, as if to explode into something powerful…. but never does. Quite the opposite, it builds, only to shoot you into an empty void beyond it, propelled only by a thick low end of a bassline that really sets this apart as an album.

I would argue A Tribute To is the reason I’ve seen Massive Attack mentioned in almost every review of this record. There’s no question that the millennial dread of Mezzanine definitely has a spiritual counterpart in this track, if not the album as a whole. It is a welcome thing too to have something with that wider sonic palette; Slint and other post rock groups rarely delivered much low end, but The For Carnation is thick with it, using it to deliver gravitas.

Mention should probably be made of Tortoise’s John McEntire at this point, who as well as performing various percussive duties on different tracks, also takes an Albini-like “don’t call me the producer” credit for engineering the album. There’s no question the production - sorry, engineering - on this record is a masterstroke. With so much delicacy going on, it is a record I’d imagine could easily have been ruined with the wrong person overseeing its recording. Kudos then to McEntire for the job he does here.

Next up comes the albums high point (for me anyway): Being Held, a masterpiece of that tension/release dynamic. Starting with just a looping, haunting, bell-like chime, it just sits, cycling around, as atmospherics quietly build in the background. Again, you find yourself sinking into the song, hypnotised by that cyclical chime, as bass notes drop in the background and you get a sense that something is happening…. you’ve just no idea what.

Things build, again bluntly showing no desire to get wherever this is headed with any speed. You know something is coming. At least you hope it is, as tension ratchets up with no real melody present, but just a sense that percussively things are building…. and building…. and building…

… until eventually, there it is: the cymbals hit their crescendo and the drums finally drop in, played by Slint’s Britt Walford no less (his only contribution to this album), hammering along with a kind of power that washes over you and instantly gets the hairs on your arms standing up.

At this point, it feels like The For Carnation simply understood that you do not mess with a killer beat. Being Held is about tension, building to a hefty beat that drops… and that’s it. Why? Because that’s all it needs to be. It teases and builds, then delivers a most incredible release, and then is gone. It is a divine sonic moment that closes side one of the album.

Flip to side two, and you’re almost back at the start again, with Snoother once again returning to glacial tempos, albeit with less tension and more instrumentation this time around.

This is arguably where the album finds its most direct line to Slint, delivering a kind of understated, intimate moment you rarely find elsewhere. Again, atmospherics play their part here; wobbling sub bass undertones that broaden the track’s whole palette, but which are barely there. It’s a bold move to be this subtle.

Penultimate track Tales sees Kim Deal joining the line-up delivering the initial haunting vocal, and like A Tribute To this is a song with a definite bloodline to Massive Attack’s Mezzanine, with bass forming the foundation of the song whilst atmospherics deliver a density you can once again sink into. Noises occur all over the track; non-melodic, as if to paint a picture of an actual place. Dissonance is there too, ensuring you’re never quite comfortable listening to this. Through the song the complexities of the atmospherics ratchet up, as does the overall volume of the song itself, something that’s easy to miss. Finally it ends with a piercing note of earth hum and noise, before fading to silence again.

The final track on the album, Moonbeams, is perhaps the apotheosis of the record. If one song explains this album, it is this one. Once more the tempo remains ponderously slow, and the vocals barely there. There’s a palpable sadness to this song however, the strings delivering a kind of mournful tone, complimenting the guitar and synth atmospherics as McMahan sings “I climb to the top, and find where I am”.

And like that, the album draws to a close. No great crescendo, no dramatic exit. Just the same quiet understatement that it started from.

That, to me, is the victory of this record. Whilst Being Held sits as almost a kind of pressure release valve midway through the album, the rest of the songs defy any urge to break into a standard tempo, or to deliver screaming emotion through the vocal. The restraint shown is biblical and is arguably the hallmark that connects it most strongly to Slint’s masterpiece.

In his own article about this record over on The Quietus (which I thoroughly recommend reading), Joe Banks says that

If Spiderland, as its opening song suggests, is a rollercoaster, all peaks and troughs of terror and exhilaration, then The For Carnation is a ghost train where the apparitions only appear at the edge of our vision, and are all the more unnerving for that.

I would agree with this, though for me the ghost train is perhaps not a grimly sinister one. Somehow, bizarrely perhaps, there’s a depth to this album that lets you sink into it; to get lost among its songs that refuse to go somewhere - or indeed go anywhere at points - almost slowing time itself down and creating an other-worldly kind of ethereum that envelops you in the most wonderful way. At points it feels like the journey here is through your own emotional state, and The For Carnation are merely conjuring up the soundtrack to that.

That intimacy, that refusal to step beyond a certain pace and emotion, is what makes this such a landmark album. There’s genuinely very little I’ve heard out there that comes close to it.

Sadly, not unlike Slint and Spiderland, this would prove to be the final release from The For Carnation. Since then, Slint have reformed a few times as the band’s cult status grew, but The For Carnation remains in its shadow, painfully under-appreciated.

That, to me anyway, is a huge shame. This record deserves just as much praise and recognition. It’s a gem that should be treasured.

Make time for it, persevere and eventually the penny drops and you realise just how amazing an album it is. It transcends the ordinary, and touches the sublime.

D.