Two questions. One: Have you heard Sleater-Kinney’s recently released album Little Rope? Two: Are you sure?
Fans of the indie-rock royalty group have now had more than two months to digest their delightfully dextrous, 34-minute black circle. And yet many of them are still scratching their heads, locked in a state of awe—or both. It’s true: Little Rope requires more time for even ardent fans to be convinced that it is, in fact, a Sleater-Kinney record. The potpourri of musical styles, tones, and experimental dabblings throughout make Little Rope the most multi-layered and re-listenable Sleater-Kinney album so far. There’s so much more to the record than meets the ear.
Sleater-Kinney
These days, virtually every conversation about music revolves around one of two topics (or both): “the nostalgia era” and when it’ll mercifully end, and whether younger artists have any viability beyond their social media accounts. Naturally, when I speak with Sleater-Kinney’s two remaining original members Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein shortly before their first Little Rope tour gets underway, we stumble into both topics. “We really admire artists who don’t just look back, who aren’t steeped in sentimentality and nostalgia, but are always positioning themselves squarely in the present and building a connection to their past,” Tucker shares. “Acknowledging the past but not having it be the sole lens through which they see themselves or want the audience to see themselves.”
Sleater-Kinney pulled off that rare feat of hearkening back while also looking forward with January’s Little Rope, their inaugural studio album for Loma Vista Recordings and second foray into recording without longtime drummer Janet Weiss. The album, which took two and a half years to make, feels more direct, upfront, and—dare I say it—accessible. The band employed a more casual approach to making a record after realizing that even some of the most ardent plans sometimes must be scrapped at a moment’s notice. Think of it like an expectant mother finding that her water just broke…well, unexpectedly. Tap that metaphor again, actually, as Tucker notes that her motherhood factors into some of the Little Rope lyrical content. Combine that with Brownstein relocating from Los Angeles to her home of Portland five years ago (and the same musician/actor’s award-winning success with Portlandia), and that’s a lot of material to mine for a new album.
“We really admire artists who aren’t steeped in sentimentality and nostalgia... Acknowledging the past but not having it be the sole lens through which they see themselves.” — Corin Tucker
Those major life events invariably factored not only into the making of Little Rope but, more importantly, strengthened Sleater-Kinney’s growth as a band and as human beings. “Parenting and being a musician is incredibly taxing,” Tucker reminds us of an obvious fact that’s usually forgotten, nonetheless, as she and the band take a break from production rehearsals in LA. “I can’t be on tour all the time right now. [Becoming a mother required] me to have the strength to say, ‘I can’t be on tour all the time right now. It’s just too hard.’ That gave us some space to live our lives—and then find our way back to the band, like we’re able to.”
Taking time away from their trade is nothing new to Sleater-Kinney. In 2006, the trio went on hiatus for roughly seven years—long enough to raise questions about whether the band would ever re-form. Tucker and Brownstein reflect on that critical period in the life of their band.
“I think that was more burnout than anything and, you know, not having the resources or the wherewithal to cope or deal or seek appropriate help in the face of burnout,” Tucker opines. ”I think the conversation about mental health is so much more present today. People are able to speak more openly about their needs and are less ashamed about asking for help. It’s also very common now for someone to step back from something and not feel forced to put out a record every two and a half years.”
“On the new album, Corin and I figure out and reestablish a language we started very early on in the band in terms of musical vernacular and pushing ourselves.” — Carrie Brownstein
Tucker continues: “I also think none of us really had an identity outside of the band at that point—[the band] had been solely what we were doing. Now the conversation has progressed where people are more aware that they need a balance. What was helpful about that hiatus was that it allowed us to build out the rest of our lives so that we could create something more.”
Brownstein concurs: “Recommitting to Sleater-Kinney is something we’re really proud of. On the new album, Corin and I figure out and reestablish a language we started very early on in the band [in terms of] musical vernacular and pushing ourselves.”
While Sleater-Kinney’s evolving lyrical subject matter, sound, and approach to the band are challenging to pinpoint at this transitional period in their 30-year career together, the pivot counts at least one fallen sister in Weiss. After drumming with the band from 1996’s Call the Doctor through their first two reunion albums in the mid-’10s, Weiss expressed her distaste for the band’s “new direction” in a July 2019 social media post published through one of Sleater-Kinney’s accounts. When asked if Sleater-Kinney missed having Weiss in the fold for Little Rope, Tucker matter-of-factly replies: “Of course. But she left the band. That was her decision.”
With Sleater-Kinney having shrunk from tres amigas to dos, one might suspect that the alt-rock icons would also narrow down their stage presence. Turns out the opposite actually came true. “The goal of touring is to have a great show,” Tucker explains, putting it in simple terms. “As we've grown over the years, we [found] an actual crew that we get to bring on and make lighting happen. We also have a front-of-house sound person that we bring on. [Our stage set] is more collaborative in that we craft something with the crew. That’s a great privilege, getting to build that up over the years, growing it on a bigger scale, being able to think more logistically and structurally about how we make that show happen.”
Brownstein chimes in and practically finishes Tucker’s sentence—the same way the practically conjoined bandmates intuitively play off each other in concert. “We actually take touring less for granted now,” she confesses. “Especially as life becomes more atomized and insular for people, we really appreciate the live setting and the spontaneity of a show and the unpredictability of it.” FL
