From Other Music:
SLEATER-KINNEY
The Woods
(Sub Pop)
Maybe you've heard the buzzing rumors, and I'm here to tell you that they are all true. Seven albums in, and Northwest pop-punk heroes Sleater-Kinney have made a sharp left turn and delivered the best, weirdest, heaviest album of their career. I'm told that when the band jumped ship from Kill Rock Stars to super-indie Sub Pop, they began casting around for a producer who could help them shake up expectations on their new LP, and met with Dave Fridmann, the talented board-op behind the now famous orch-pop-psych sound of the Flaming Lips and Mercury Rev's last few records, as well as many other new classics. As the story goes, Fridmann told the girls that he pretty much hated all their albums, best known for a thin, intense two guitar interplay, frenetic drumming, and Corin Tucker's manic tremolo Jello Biafra vocal style. Despite, or perhaps because of, that bitter come-on, they agreed to retreat to Fridmann's Tarbox Road Studios in upstate NY to explore some new ideas, and the rough and raw beauty of The Woods was born.
Those familiar with Fridmann's resume might be expecting a produced pop masterpiece, replete with strings and horns and bubbling organs to compliment the hooks and energy that have always made Sleater-Kinney so exciting on stage. But from the opening guitar explosion, that will no doubt make you double check your player to confirm that you are hearing the right record (and then will force you to either crank the volume or turn it down right quick, depending on the hour and your neighborly attitude), it's clear that this is a new direction for both band and producer. I'd be shocked if you are not glued to the speakers for the remaining 10 tracks.
Raw, loose, impassioned and powerful, The Woods showcases a band who, against all probability, has continued to grow artistically through the most common onset of rock and roll maladies--namely success, age, and the dreaded family responsibilities (there is a baby or two waiting on the tour bus these days). The playing is intense, with pounding grooves (alternately rock solid and hypnotically off-kilter), and dense, overloaded guitars swooping and crashing and buzzing all over the place. Tucker's vocals still have that manic warble, but she and Carrie Brownstein sing both sweet and dirty throughout the disc, and Fridmann lets the powerful playing lead the way, often leaving Tucker shouting in the wind of her own amplifier, to intoxicating effect.
To be completely honest, I'm not 100% sure that all of Sleater-Kinney's longtime fans will be completely thrilled by the band's explorations. Although much of their trademark sound is still intact, with hypnotic guitar interplay, powerful, idiosyncratic vocals and thoughtful, intelligent and poetic lyrics, there is no doubt that the band has stepped out on a limb here, and an artist that is this popular would be defying the laws of physics (and probability) if we all followed them out there. But the band has made a primal, heartfelt statement, and in the end I'm confident that most of their longtime fans, as well as many new ones, will be moved. The rumors are true; Sleater-Kinney has made the best album of their career. [JM]
