Chris Hornbecker
Carrie Brownstein wearing a gray suit and Corin Tucker wearing a black shirt and ruffled skirt.
Carrie Brownstein, left, and Corin Tucker of Sleater-Kinney hit The Sylvee with a new, emotionally raw album.
Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein were in the middle of writing Sleater-Kinney’s latest album in the fall of 2022, when devastating news arrived: Brownstein’s mother and step-father had been killed in a car accident while vacationing in Italy.
Rather than scrap the effort, the two eventually kept developing the songs, which evolved into a way for Brownstein to process her grief.
“It made everything feel really heightened emotionally. It was very dark and sad, but it also gave us a sense of purpose with making the album,” Tucker tells Isthmus in advance of the duo’s March 22 appearance at The Sylvee.
The album, Little Rope, was released in January. “Carrie really didn’t want to stop working, she wanted to work really hard on the album. So it gave us almost a sense of solemnity and prayer with the album and putting that sense of loss and grief that’s very emotional and raw, but also relatable to people as well,” says Tucker.
While Brownstein was eager to work and record, she told The New Yorker that playing guitar was easier for her than singing. So she leaned on Tucker to carry more of the vocal duties. Did Tucker feel a burden to translate her friend and bandmate’s grief?
“It didn’t feel like an imposition, because we’ve made so many records together,” Tucker says. “But I did feel like I needed to step up to the plate and really lend myself to the whole experience of every song.”
Tucker’s voice has always been one of the hallmarks of the band’s sound. Critic Greil Marcus described Tucker’s voice as “enormous, with a natural swing — the sort of swing that neither Tina Turner nor Mick Jagger has ever had, the ability to take a note and ring it like a bell in a tower.” It sounds like hyperbole, unless you’ve heard Tucker sing.
But Tucker is modest when describing what she tries to do with her voice. “I’m trying to tell a story. I’m trying to convey a world of experience that is definitely the female experience from my own perspective, my own life that I’m drawing from,” she says. “The amazing thing is how many people relate to that in so many different ways. When you really put yourself out there and open yourself up and explain your story, that’s something that people can find and they may come from a totally different experience and situation, but the connection draws people together.”
Some of the songs on the album clearly draw on Brownstein’s mourning. “Dress Yourself” focuses on how in the face of grief, even mundane tasks can require colossal effort: “Get up, girl, and dress yourself/ In clothes you love for a world you hate.”
Similarly, “Don’t Feel Right” explores how grief can make a person’s life feel out of sync with the people they love. Brownstein sings the verses in a staccato that captures the feeling of going through the motions: “Every night when the sun’s down/ Drive around, drown the pain out/ Work from grave, can’t go home/ I don’t feel right, that’s all I know.”
Tucker says that Brownstein had struggled to finish the song. “Carrie had this great song, she had all these great verses and a great storyline, but she kept rewriting the chorus,” Tucker says. “Finally, I went to her house one day, and I said ‘What about something super straightforward?’”
The resulting chorus, “Don’t hang around/ I’m a real letdown” — harmonized by Tucker and Brownstein — evokes the paradox of wanting to be alone while simultaneously needing to be with others, social anxiety mixed with longing.
“We do work very collaboratively, because we want each song to be as good as it can be,” Tucker explains. “We’re willing to try almost every idea that the other person has in order to make the song come to light.”
Tucker says they also wanted the music to ask questions about America’s culture, particularly the prevalence of violence, without offering any answers.
The final track on Little Rope, “Untidy Creature,” stands with the band’s finest work — highlighting both Brownstein’s ragged guitar playing and Tucker’s yearning voice as she growls, “You built a cage, but your measurement’s wrong/ Cause I’ll find a way and I’ll pick your lock.”
The song could be read as an effort to break free from grief and heartache. True to the band’s roots, it could also be read as a feminist manifesto, pushing back against being categorized and dismissed. And anyone who has ever felt trapped, dismissed or marginalized could also relate.
That ability to connect with people — along with Tucker and Brownstein’s friendship — go a long way toward explaining the band’s staying power for 30 years.
“I really try to make the best music that we can make and make it as meaningful as possible,” Tucker says. “That’s how we stay relevant, to make music that people are interested in. It’s the only way to have a long career in music.”
