I Wanna Be Your Carrie Brownstein: A Brief Introduction to Sleater Kinney
For a lot of bands saddled with the “Riot grrrl” moniker, the discourse around their work becomes a lot more focused on gender and a lot less focused on music, with Sleater Kinney being no exception. There were many positive outcomes of riot grrrl, but to always define the acts that were a part of and produced by the scene is to center them in a female-dominated subculture, rather than the musical world at large. They didn’t just make good “girl” songs, they made great rock music.
S-K was really more a product of the scene than anything, as vocalist/guitarists, Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein were each part of short-lived riot grrrl bands Heavens to Betsy and Excuse 17, before starting the band in 1994. By 1997’s “Dig Me Out” the duo had found Janet Weiss, the innovative drummer of Quasi, who would continue as part of the band until 2019. The group put out seven albums in their initial run before 2015’s No Cities to Love, a sort of reunion record after a decade-long hiatus.
Like any band, S-K’s first ten years shows a certain development in their sound, but throughout that time there is rarely, if ever, any misses or lapses in musical judgment. The chemistry of the three members weaves together like the threads of a heavy quilt, working off one another and filling in the gaps of sound with a deft prowess and deep understanding of one another as musicians.
But I will let the music speak for itself. Here are five crucial songs to understanding the capabilities of S-K, beyond their singles and most-streamed numbers.
“Turn It On” 1997
Dig Me Out remains one of the most popular S-K records, for it is much more accessible than the gritty, hard-to-swallow first two records Sleater-Kinney and Call the Doctor (that being said, please listen to them, they are incredible, and “I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone” is one of the best punk-rock songs of the last two decades). “Turn It On” is just one of many three-minute capsules of meticulously-crafted explosions of energy on this album and throughout their discography. The song itself is a mental tug-of-war, attempting to stay away from someone who feels too good, the pleading in Tucker’s voice begging for a release from the cycle. Tucker sings, “Don’t tell me your name/ If you don’t want it sung”, using artistry as a weapon, as her cries cut like a knife.
“Burn, Don't Freeze!” 1999
“Burn, Don’t Freeze!” is an example of a more playful S-K track, as Tucker and Brownstein spend the whole song singing over one another, battling for their perspective in a failing relationship. The song opens with Brownstein’s clever wordplay, “I’d set your heart on fire/ But arson is no way/ To make a love burn brighter,” as Tucker retorts, “When you saw me, on that first day/ Said I’d blossom under your care.”
“Burn, Don’t Freeze!” is a prime example of the band’s skilled dynamic, for not only do their vocals dart back and forth between each other, but their guitar licks make it hard to tell where Tucker ends and Brownstein begins. A sort of uniformity is produced by this unpredictability, as the fight for dominance of the song creates a pure cohesion that together makes individual great musicians, a great band.
“Was It a Lie?” 2000
I saw S-K on their “No Cities to Love” tour and while waiting for them to take the stage I overheard a family friend describe Tucker’s voice as “having the power to pin you against the wall”. I never forgot this description, for it encompasses the sheer vigor and depth her vocals carry, and it astounds me she isn’t widely considered as one of the most esteemed vocalists across the many subgenres of rock music. “Was It a Lie?” is a song Tucker wrote about a woman’s videotaped death that is played over and over again as entertainment, and when she sings the chorus it pierces. Brownstein writes in her memoir, Hunger Makes Me A Modern Girl, about how the song was also a metaphor for their relationship with the press at the time, who couldn’t separate the notion of them being an “all-female band” from them being a band. Tucker sings, “I want a day not made for you to see,” encompassing their frustrations with certain aspects of their reception, and emphasizing how women do not exist solely for consumption.
“One Beat” 2002
One Beat is an unmistakably political album, as it criticizes the Bush administration and the country's involvement in the Iraq War, paired with the birth of Tucker’s son in 2001, which naturally impacted her worldview. One Beat is a comment on political leaders' pressure for complacent thought, which of course is not thought at all, and the push to march under “One Beat”. In “Combat Rock”, a song named for the fifth Clash album which urged listeners to “Know Their Rights”, Brownstein asks, “since when is skepticism un-American?” These themes of warmongering and severity are echoed in the album’s compositions too: the song “One Beat” being a great example through Weiss’ brilliant military, march-like drumming. The song questions if a world away from oil and fossil fuels, and towards renewable energy is possible. Tucker sings, “Could you invent a world for me/ I need to hear a symphony.” “One Beat” shows S-K at their sharpest, with pointed lyricism that is both poetic and political, and having infectious riffs that creep under your skin, lodging themselves in your veins.
“Let’s Call it Love” 2005
The Woods was an album conceived after S-K opened for Pearl Jam on a 2003 tour, causing them to realize they needed more material that was appropriate for arena audiences. As a result, their last album before their ten-year break contained more classic rock and metal influences than their previous work, while still containing the clever ferocity that is so characteristic of their sound and lyrics. This can be shown through the album’s opener. “The Fox” is one of the heaviest songs in their catalogue, allowing Weiss to be untethered in her drumming and Tucker’s vocals to soar like a hawk looking for prey. “Let’s Call it Love” is the longest track S-K has ever released, coming in at just over eleven minutes and containing several instrumental breakdowns, which rarely happen in their typical punk-length numbers. Because of this, their musicianship is put on full display allowing the listener to bask in a cacophony of raw spirit and stamina that puts many of their male peers to shame. I would call it love, indeed.