TWEEZ

They say that first impressions are everything, but in the case of "Tweez" it's context that's been everything. You'll probably remember "Tweez" as the diminutive brother of the stone classic post and math codifying opus "Spiderland", described as prototypical and paleful, for listeners an afterthought. But context!

In 1989, this was revelatory music. At the time, there were many proto-math bands, post-hardcore rockers deep underground who felt it best to crimp Crimson for odd time signatures to spice up their riffs. Now, these bands don't have a snowball's chance in Tartarus of getting into PA, and for good reason: their stuff was barely into the kind of face melting forms that Crimson themselves perfected with the likes of "Fracture" and the title track to "Discipline"; exhibit A is "Umber" by B*tch Magnet. But then a handful of math obsessives, such as the members of BM, got their hands on this little puppy straight outta Louisville, and were blown away. Here was a faceless, mysterious band that weren't afraid to rock hard and weird. We're talking the kind of math that wouldn't be seen again until Don Caballero. They were ahead of their time and timeless.

The album starts out strong with "Ron", tumbling through the embryonic form of "Nosferatu Man" fast and hard as someone complains about their headphones. This epic display leads into a quick moving and flowing sequence of tracks, sometimes rather short, blistering with speed, heaviness, and signature shifts. The album as a whole feels triumphant yet boxed in, dark, and unknowable. The vocals are the only thing here prototypical to "Spiderland", coming out randomly and strangely, not yet in line with the dour first person narratives of the follow up. But that matters not, as the music continues to bend and excite for a half hour - my only complaint is that there isn't more of it.

Excepting "Discipline", this is the founding document of math rock, socks knocking and worthy in its own right.