"Spiderland" is a fitting name for this excellent album.



With its dark jangly guitars, whispered and shouted vocals, and unconventional melodies, this album is a world entire, a creepy place where there's something unexpected around every corner.



You can liken it to other music by other bands--the aforementioned vocal tactics call to mind the Pixies, while the artfully dissonant guitar noise made me think of Sonic Youth. But this is one of those classic albums that is more than the sum of its parts and greater than the average of its influences. The songs are mesmerizing and chilling, fragile and strong; the guitars and vocals are bipolar, moving without warning between depression and aggression. And when you're done with them, they're not done with you--they come back again and again, like demented spirits haunting your psyche. (And it's usually the guitar parts that get stuck in your head, so you'll be muttering "Dih-dah-dih-dah-dih-dah-dih-dah-da-na-na-na" under your breath all day until your co-workers start looking at you funny and you end up putting on your headphones and listening to this again because it's already playing in your head.)



But it's not like that's a bad thing. "Spiderland" may be a strange place, but you won't want to leave.