Live at Vicar St, Dublin

And will you know them by the trail of bands they influenced: Mogwai, Tortoise, Labradford, Godspeed – the list goes on and on. Among the Dublin indie cognoscenti, this was the must go-to gig for weeks in advance, as Dave Pajo (who has become the most high-profile member of the band since their 1992 split) and his cohorts played another show on their short reunion tour, hastily embarked upon following their recent reformation to play the All Tomorrow’s Parties Festival in Camber Sands.
Look, let’s make no bones about it, this band practically invented an entire genre with their three landmark recordings, Tweez and Spiderland (alternately crushingly heavy and eerily quiet albums from, respectively, 1989 and 1991) and the posthumously released two-track single, ‘Slint’. Their pioneering status is certainly in evidence on the opening ‘For Dinner…’ which, with its teetering and swooping, near Eno-esque bucolic soundscape and accompanying low-key lighting, is unbelievably atmospheric, like driving through the countryside at dusk.
But as their many aficionados are aware, the group also know how to rock the Casbah, with the corrosive guitars of the following ‘Breadcrumb Trail’ practically stripping the paint off the walls. Indeed, as the evening progresses, it’s notable just how downright - there’s no other word for it - metallic much of Slint’s output is, with ‘Nosferatu Man’ (the live incarnation of which retains that wonderfully juvenile, near Ramones-like lurch into the chorus, signalled by Brian McMahon’s excited yelp of “Like a bat I rushed the girl!!”) and practically all of the Tweez material testifying to the group’s love of pain-threshold guitar pyrotechnics. Bassist Ethan Buckler’s flowing mane, meanwhile, is further evidence of Slint’s immersion in the dark metallic arts.
However, it’s undoubtedly the more stylistically expansive numbers that prove to be the evening’s highlights, with the proto-Mogwai instrumental ‘Glenn’, the surrealist acoustica of ‘Don, Aman’ and the epic, haunting, hopelessly lovesick lullaby ‘Washer’ all deserving particularly special mention.
Fittingly, they close with a scintillating take on ‘Good Morning, Captain’, the abrasive textures and oddball, Twilight Zone spoken-word narrative of which are the perfect encapsulation of Slint’s innovative modus operandi. All in all, it’s just as well that this particular post-rock collective chose to ring twice.