via Pitchfork:
Sleater-Kinney's Last Show: A Retrospective
Story by Julianne Shepherd
Sleater-Kinney settled their 11-year career on bittersweet chords: "One More Hour", the iconic break-up song from Dig Me Out, whose lyrics encapsulate the moment just before a departure. "In one more hour, I will be gone..." sang Corin Tucker, wistfully. "In one more hour, I leave this room…" Their departure was imminent and, it seemed, reluctant. As they played the final tones, the final song in the second encore of their last show, tears streaked each of the three women's faces. They dropped their instruments, hugged each other, and walked off stage.
In retrospect, Sleater-Kinney's final show-- at Portland's majestic Crystal Ballroom, where stage lights cast the band in giant hazy shadows on the wall behind them-- emphasized exactly how many of their lyrics were, in fact, about breaking up, leaving, and saying goodbye, a not unlikely foundation for a band comprised of a former couple (Tucker and guitarist/singer Carrie Brownstein dated for a time). The fulcrum lyric of their opening song, "The Fox", had Tucker screaming, "THERE'S NO LOOKING BACK!" and there wasn't: They weren't retrospective or nostalgic, picking most of their set from more recent albums The Woods, One Beat, and The Hot Rock and sparing selections from career-kickstarting records Dig Me Out and Call the Doctor. Though they played as meticulously and as passionately as ever-- call it the high of the runner's last lap-- it would have felt like any other show, were it not for the psychic weight. As they barreled toward the end, their squalls gaping, chasmal, somewhere between the atonal grind of "Night Light" and the downturned yearning of "Stay Where You Are", the show's mood deepened with its finality. The tumult of chords expanded. Energy converted to discomfort. When Brownstein began murmuring the soft melody of "Modern Girl", there was a bit of sour dread in the air. They had sandwiched a handful of tensely minor-keyed songs into their setlist-- "Not What You Want", then "Steep Air", then "God Is a Number"-- maybe on purpose? You don't choose the setlist of your last show lightly.
For reasons yet unknown, Sleater-Kinney have disbanded. Like separating from the ones you most love, it clearly wasn't an easy severance.
***
From their 1995 origins in the feminist wilds of Olympia, Washington, Sleater-Kinney's purpose was twofold: to make music, and to make the world better, insofar that any band can better the world. They never attempted this by making grand gestures or megaphonic statements, but by quietly doing: Responding to politics because they were smart and their surroundings-- the localized liberal enclaves of Oly and Portland, Oregon-- demanded it. When Tucker and Brownstein started Sleater-Kinney, they were students at Evergreen College-- aka "Evergroovy," the kind of hippie-holdover liberal arts school that is rigorous and righteous yet has no set curriculum-- studying film and politics (Tucker) and sociolinguistics (Brownstein). The fire of Oly riot grrrl had already begun to wane in intensity-- in 1997, Bikini Kill were on their last legs-- and each had logged time on O.G. R.G. bills in Heavens to Betsy (Tucker) and Excuse 17 (Brownstein), zygote bands which, in retrospect, sound like two parts to a whole. The ladies had seen the young feminist surge of riot grrrl deflate from media exposure, backbiting, and tragedy, and so the politics of Sleater-Kinney were leveled more deliberately and cautiously-- the "personal is political," versus "the roof is on fire."
Sleater-Kinney were named practically, after the road that housed their first practice space in Lacey, Washington (an Olympia suburb known for its appearance in Bikini Kill's "Carnival"). And like many feminist bands since, at first they were heavily influenced by the holler of Bikini Kill's Kathleen Hanna. For parts of their first album, with drummer Lora McFarlane (who Janet Weiss replaced in 1996), both Tucker's and Brownstein's voices are imbued with the imprint of Hanna's impetuous scrawl. But there were also seeds of the gripping Tucker-Brownstein vocal/guitar interplay that gave the band one of the most distinct sounds in rock. On "The Day I Went Away" (whose verse intones, "Do I always have to leave for you to want me to stay?"), McFarlane anchors Tucker's unhinged quivering vibrato, a role Brownstein would take on subsequent records. On that record, their roots showed, but the promise was audible.
By 1996, when Call the Doctor dropped on Donna Dresch’s anarcho-lesbo punk label Chainsaw, Sleater-Kinney were running with the post-R.G. torch: the album was a collection of their most insurrectionist songs, channeling their social unrest and feminist quandary. "Anonymous" lyrically echoes Bikini Kill's first album and captures Oly's restless mindset-- "feel safe, inside, inside those well drawn lines/ Boyfriend, a car, a job, my white girl life." But "Stay Where You Are" is probably the first song of their career where they knew what they would sound like, what worked for them as songwriters-- the indelible interplay!! They were all virtuosos at something, and on Doctor-- and Dig Me Out-- were the seeds: Tucker's distinct vibrato, Brownstein's agile guitar playing, Weiss's subtle bombast. And here, they first exposed their aspirations to become rock icons.
"I wanna be your Joey Ramone," Tucker demanded. Brownstein's hiccuped swagger evoked the sexual narcissism of iconic boy-rockers. "Pictures of me on your bedroom door." Distortion. "I'm the queen of rock and roll."
Long, but there's lots more at the link. Also, see their hiatus notice here. And, of course, a video.
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