Producers: And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead, Chris Smith.

Recorded at Stardog Studios, Lone Wolf Studios, Bubble Studios, Austin, Texas in July 1997.

Audio Mixers: Dave McNair; Chris Cline.

Recording information: Lone Wolf Studios (07/1997); Stardog Studios, Austin, TX (07/1997).

Editor: Chris Cline.

Photographer: Richard McIntosh.

The rapid rise of Austin's instrument-demolishing . And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead began with their self-titled debut, a raw demonstration of creativity and ambition that foreshadowed their major-label triumph, SOURCE TAGS AND CODES. Too burly to be quite labeled indie rock and too restlessly inquisitive to be strictly post-hardcore, the music is an anthemic racket, at once majestic like Sonic Youth's DAYDREAM NATION and gritty like a basement party punk act. "Fake Fake Eyes" is an outdoor festival-sized monster of a song that rattles along with uncontained energy, and "Ounce of Prevention" is pure nervous propulsion and pounding intensity. Quieter moments like "Novena Without Faith" draw tension from the slow build of guitars and whispered vocals for over eight minutes. They would go on to record much bigger albums with explosive sonic color palates, but the blueprint for their all-out assault on rock was drawn here.

Labeled as "anti-musicians," named after a prayer to Mayan corn gods, and cause for press releases describing it as "set upon by rednecks," ...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead vies for that piece of scarred, post-punk real estate somewhere between the Who and chucking a whirring blender full of bolts straight into a jet engine. With this self-titled debut, the band will probably horrify the realtors. From moments of diversionary electronic tweaks to ones of shambolic, guitar-thrashed screeches (and sometimes both), the album realizes the importance of not trying to be important. The sound of bashing out unconventional "we hate something that we'll make sure to mumble" punk rock without parroting any one musical thing is what -- if anything -- ties these eight songs together. And for good reason. Few bands can sound like such a rightful mess. The band has been lumped in with fellow rock unapologists Queens of the Stone Age and At the Drive-In, but this self-titled debut album is a caustic, fidgety yelp that almost belies its out-and-out intelligence. One of the band's news stories might have said it best: "The band defended themselves with their instruments, which are now destroyed." ~ Dean Carlson