John Bemis
Blogs Editor
@bemiscourant
The obsession with historical legacy and its influence throughout indie music has facilitated a new hunger for ‘comebacks’, and the past two haven’t failed to nourish it. From Aphex Twin to Pink Floyd, the sudden-return following significant hiatus has become an economic formula, usually begetting either an absolute success or a clearly desperate grab for relevance. Overt marketing has rendered hardcore pioneers like the Dead Kennedy’s or Black Flag to purely capitalist ventures, forcing the punk of today to claim idol-less abandon.
This trend, surprisingly, has not tainted the artistic integrity of the fertile 90’s feminist indie and Riot Grrrl movements from which Olympia’s Sleater-Kinney emerged. Despite an upward trend towards mainstream embrace from their formation in 1994 to their dissolve in 2006, Corin Tucker, Carrie Brownstein and Janet Weiss never censored their views, only reinforcing them through detailed personal narratives in their later discography. 2005’s The Woods only strengthened their resolve through overblown lo-fi resonance and unashamed renunciation of all who opposed. Still fervent with activist hunger and no taste for lateral movement, Sleater-Kinney pick up where they left off while shedding skin and assuming new, sharper forms of attack.
No Cities to Love is easily identifiable as Sleater-Kinney’s most tonally accessible album. All instrumentation is produced to absolute clarity, with their guitars like razors rather than buzzing waves, the drums no longer carrying a cavernous weight but a firm punch. This clear-cut, metallic timbre gives off the impression that the very recording is about to shatter, bursting at the seams with relentless edge. The performances displayed through this raw filter are tight and swift to maintain a supreme barrage of volume throughout. Jagged riffs and thumping grooves give the entire LP a distinct sound that exists in a small limbo between frustrated fem-rock and full on hardcore.
The energy and momentum this album delivers is beyond words. Corin Tucker is a vocal earthquake who has been waiting ten years to put out a record and cannot be bothered to wait any longer. Her distinct shout carries a brilliant vibrato and clenching bite that instills both fear and vigor, displaying not only rebellious fire but enhancing the precise intention of her lyrics. Opening track Price Tag shows Tucker detailing the dangers of capitalist obsession during the verse, before performing an urgent, agonized chorus. Surface Envy shows a passionate realization of the comradery required for her revolution, belting in anthem, “we win, we lose//only together to we break the rules”.
Brownstein carries her weight through the album as she speaks through soaring guitar leads and grounded vocal assistance, harmonizing where a sense of cooperation is needed. Without a traditional rhythm section, the duty of balancing out Tucker’s animation relies on the versatile rhythmic and melodic capabilities of Carrie and Janet. A sisters-in-arms dynamic is built through a sophisticated form of songwriting that showcases individual clarity and group cohesion, providing evidence of dedicated rehearsal.
What sets Sleater-Kinney apart in their mantra, especially on No Cities to Love, is a denial of individuality in their beliefs. Tucker, Brownstein, and Weiss opt for an open call-to-war instead of a declaration of self-faculty. Looking past their desire to cater to niche collectives of social awareness in order to enforce the enveloping idea of instilling power in the timid requires a new maturity. Sleater-Kinney aren’t compromising any ideas but, approaching a less alienating shape with the intent of broadly yet systematically breaking down their most loathed societal dogmas, a task not possible through their former gruff. No Cities is a revelation of the modern rebel archetype, a realization that punk will continue to exist not solely in musical execution, but in a demand for justice. Doing so may require dis-subscribing from such labels altogether, as Sleater-Kinney chant on A New Wave, “No outline will ever hold us//It’s not a new wave, it’s just you and me”.
Rating: 9.1/10
