Sleater-Kinney
Album:
The Woods
Like apartment-dwellers taking advantage of free cable left over from the previous tenants, indie bands have been ripping off the Pixies-style freak-out for nearly 20 years. Thankfully, no one is over it yet. Enter The Woods, the Sub Pop debut from Riot Grrrl elite Sleater-Kinney. Dropping much of the Zeppelin influence from 2002’s One Beat in favor of a Kim Deal-meets-Patti Smith mishmash of harmonious noise and piss-and-vinegar punk, The Woods plays as a Gettysburg-style homage to Kinney’s native Pacific Northwest, the bloody battlefield that served as the turning point in early 90’s rock. If you listen carefully, you can still hear the cannon blasts.
Keeping up with The Woods’ ballistic assault is no easy task. The appropriately titled opener, “The Fox,” sets the tone for a vehement chase: no building riff, just some hustle. “Misogyny be damned” is the battle cry on “Let‘s Call it Love,” a syncopated symphony of angry chick lyrics, feedback and a bass line that echoes with brimstone: a triple-barreled middle finger to the rock ‘n’ roll boys club. Amidst the crunch is “Jumpers,” a lone buzz pop oasis buoyed by the sing-song refrain, “My whole life is like a picture of a sunny day.”
Crackling and howling in much the same way the Stooges’ “Funhouse” did 25 years ago, The Woods isn’t just angry, it’s violent. It yells and screams, punches and slaps. It’s a microcosm of a vicious revolution. It’s Sleater-Kinney throwing off their chains.
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