Sleater-Kinney was founded by Tucker and Brownstein in 1994 and was active until a hiatus in 2006, later reuniting in 2014.
“The note bend emulates the human experience so perfectly,” she continues. “It’s not static. You can be in one spot and have to bend to an experience. And I love that about guitar, that it can go in and out of these static moments.”
Of course, Sleater-Kinney’s music doesn’t really contain static moments, exactly—there might be quieter sections here and there, but even then, it’s fervent and kinetic. And, as Brownstein and co-bandleader/guitarist Corin Tucker have been in the punk scene for over 30 years, they know how to write in a way that not only captures the spirit of the genre, but expands its dimensions.
Brownstein and Tucker have always shared the roles of guitarist and vocalist in Sleater-Kinney, but on Little Rope, Tucker took on more vocal responsibilities than in the past.
Little Rope opens in the eye of an electrical storm on “Hell,” with a calm introduction that soon shifts to a wailing, mid-tempo upheaval. As the album continues, it speaks in elemental punk with a helping of pop-rock savvy, but when you’re fully in tune with it, it’s more like walking through a home that’s being consumed by a chemical fire. The flames are explosions of blue and green, and it smells like burning wood and acetate, but as you walk through unharmed, you realize it’s all been expertly staged. “The thing you fear the most will hunt you down,” the duo soothsays on “Hunt You Down,” as Brownstein later confides in the verse, “Sorrow hides outside the door disguised as luck / It looks me in the eye / It seems to know me.” More colors in the fire are heard in “Say It Like You Mean It,” with its catchy refrain belying its heartbreak, and the album’s closer, “Untidy Creature,” which starts heavy and raw before moving into a brief but pensive reflection as Tucker sings, “You built a cage but your measurements wrong.” It’s that kind of prismatic emotional topography that makes it clear how Sleater-Kinney has been going strong for all these years.
“I know what to do with my hands and with my body on guitar. It also is such an act of love to play.”—Carrie Brownstein
The writing of the album, which eventually became their 11th studio full-length, started as far back as 2021. “The first song was ‘Untidy Creature,’” shares Brownstein. “That had a very classic writing process to it, where I have a riff and Corin has a vocal line, and we just meld them together. We are often skeptical of that, because we’ve been doing that for a long time. But it really captured this loss and longing and vulnerability that would end up being very present across the album.”
In the fall of 2022, Tucker and Brownstein had around six or seven songs down, and were planning on writing about five more, when Brownstein received life-altering news. While recording in Los Angeles, she got a call from Tucker—the U.S. Embassy in Italy had been unsuccessfully trying to reach Brownstein and her sister, but managed to connect with Tucker, who is Brownstein’s emergency contact. A few calls later, Brownstein finally got in touch with her sister, who then relayed the message that their mother and stepfather had been killed in a car crash while vacationing in Italy.
In the midst of processing the tragedy, Brownstein decided to stay the course with the making of Little Rope, and found relief in continuing to create music for it. “I just wrote copiously,” she says. “I really needed the routine of it, and to sort of posit myself in time and space. Grief is so incoherent, so disorienting. I needed the songs to be the language that I didn’t have.” (“Hunt You Down” was one of the songs that came after the accident, and was written about it specifically.)
“Grief was unfamiliar,” she adds. “I had never been thrust into it in such a primal way. Suddenly it was such a nascent, uncomfortable feeling for me, and guitar was such an antidote to that. It made me appreciate the instrument for its malleability, for its expressiveness. I started doing all the fundamental things that are so obvious to guitar players. I felt like I was experiencing them in a new way.”
“Grief is so incoherent, so disorienting. I needed the songs to be the language that I didn’t have.”—Carrie Brownstein
Tucker shares, “I could tell that Carrie really wanted to finish the record. She didn’t want to just not have anything to do. So we finished things; I gave her ideas and she would sit and rework things all day long, eight hours a day. That became the pathway for how we dealt with what had happened.
“In a way it added to the album’s sense of purpose,” Tucker continues, “of feeling like, ‘Can we make this world strong enough to handle life’s ups and downs? Can we make this outlet enough of a joy and also enough of a container to handle your worst moments?’”
Carrie Brownstein's Gear
When songwriting, Brownstein and Tucker are suspicious of the songs that come easily, and those don’t always make it onto their albums.
Photo by Tim Bugbee/tinnitus photography
Guitars
- 1972 Gibson SG
- 1973 Guild S-100
- 1977 Fender Thinline Telecaster
- 2014 Old Style Guitar Shop custom-built semi-hollow
Amps
- Fender Deluxe Reverb
Effects
- Klon Centaur
- ZVEX Super Hard On
- EarthQuaker Devices White Light
- Roland Double Beat
- Eventide PitchFactor
- Strymon TimeLine
- Maestro Fuzz-Tone
- Catalinbread Belle Epoch
Strings & Picks
- Ernie Ball Power Slinky
- Jim Dunlop .6 mm
Brownstein taking solace in the guitar also meant reducing her contributions to vocals, as singing felt too vulnerable for her at the time. As a result, Tucker took on more of those responsibilities than in the past. “It made me dig deeper and find a more passionate and diverse range of singing styles to bring variety to the album,” says Tucker.
For the album’s production, Brownstein and Tucker worked with John Congleton (St. Vincent, Swans, Mountain Goats), who pushed Tucker to reach a “higher emotional peak” with her voice. “There was just an atmosphere that [created] a need for a strong intensity with the performances,” Tucker shares.
“Say It Like You Mean It” was one song in particular that required some additional effort. “John’s reaction [to my vocal part] was like, ‘I don’t think that’s really strong enough.’ Which of course made me really, um, frustrated,” she laughs. “So I just summoned my patience and said, ‘Alright, let me think about it.’” The next day, she came back with an idea of singing the melody in a higher register. “The crescendo of the song then had a larger trajectory. It had somewhere else to go.”
“In a way it added to the album’s sense of purpose of feeling like, ‘Can we make this world strong enough to handle life’s ups and downs?’”—Corin Tucker
When it comes to guitar playing, Tucker doesn’t have much of an emotional connection with gear, while Brownstein, on the other hand, happens to have a passion for it. Her main guitar is a 1972 Gibson SG, “from the dubious and inconsistent Norlin era,” she says. It has a thin neck that makes it more playable for her, and “a smooth tone with a hint of growl.” Another one of her axes is a ’70s Guild S-100. “It always surprises me with its versatility. I think it’s going to be dark and grimy, but then it will have more dimension and levity than that. I also appreciate the vibrato bar on it, which allows things to get ugly and weird.”
Brownstein is the proud owner of a Klon Centaur, along with a Roland Double Beat, Catalinbread Belle Epoch, and Eventide PitchFactor, among a few other pedals. “I would say that distortion is still my favorite. It’s the first language I really understood in terms of guitar—that raw power, that small dose of corrosion,” she elaborates. “I also love chorus, flange, and harmonizers. Basically, things that make the notes thick and rubbery. When we start writing a new album, I usually go pedal shopping. Even if I don’t end up using the effect on the song, I like the way it makes me rethink the guitar and how I play it. I love the way effects pedals can expand your vocabulary and make you think about single notes or melody in a different way.”
Corin Tucker's Gear
While Tucker doesn’t love gear as much as her guitarist cohort, she always uses a 1965 Fender Showman amp head to achieve her Sleater-Kinney tone.
Photo by Tim Bugbee/tinnitus photography
Guitars
- Gibson Les Paul Tribute Goldtop
Amps
- 1965 Fender Showman 2-Channel 85-watt with 4x10 cabinet
Effects
- Catalinbread Formula 5F6
- Eventide H9
- EarthQuaker The Warden
Strings & Picks
- D’Addario .010
- Jim Dunlop Nylon Gray .73 mm
And although Tucker doesn’t have that same connection with her musical equipment, she shares that she’s “created a very specific sound for Sleater-Kinney—a very low-end sound for a guitar.” To achieve that sound, she uses a 1965 Fender Showman 85-watt black-panel amp head with a 4x10 cabinet. Recently, the Fender head was stolen, so she went out and bought the exact same one to replace it.
It’s worth noting that Tucker and Brownstein have been a musical pair for the entirety of Sleater-Kinney’s run, which has spanned 30 years (the band was inactive between 2006 and their reunion in 2014). Before founding it together in 1994, Brownstein was in Excuse 17, and Tucker, Heavens to Betsy. The latter two groups were part of the early riot grrrl scene that originated in Olympia, Washington, and the greater Pacific Northwest, and while Sleater-Kinney has come to be viewed as riot grrrl as well, Tucker and Brownstein think of themselves as slightly post riot grrrl because of the more specific timeline they were there to witness. When asked about their roles as leaders in the queer punk scene, Brownstein says she sees early-’90s queercore bands like Team Dresch, Tribe 8, and Pansy Division as being more “unabashedly queer at a time when it was so scary to be that.”
“If we do have a voice at all for people, it’s to say, ‘You’re not alone, and we are with you.’”—Corin Tucker
Tucker expresses, “We think it’s really important to speak out about queer and trans issues in the U.S., especially right now when so many of those rights are being rolled back and people are being trespassed upon. If we do have a voice at all for people, it’s to say, ‘You’re not alone, and we are with you.’ And it’s wrong that young people are losing gender-affirming care in some states. We think that’s awful.”
Aside from that advocacy, Brownstein says of being seen as a role model, “The most productive thing I can do to protect any goodwill that I’ve accrued [laughs], is to, one, be kind and compassionate, but also continue to push myself and put things out in the world that hopefully people connect to.”
One of Brownstein’s main guitars is a 1972 Gibson SG, seen here.
Photo by Debi Del Grande
Speaking of that kind of connection, although I have kept my identity a secret until this point in this article, I have been a fan of Sleater-Kinney for years, and shared that with Brownstein at the beginning of our conversation. Other fans out there will be pleased to know how kind she was in her response. She shares, “Fandom keeps you open, porous, and curious, and all the things that should be required as a human being, and certainly will help to ward off cynicism. So I have a lot of empathy and understanding for people who might place that on me, because I do understand that that is a way of guiding yourself through the world. I understand the language of fandom because I turned to it so much, especially when I was young, as a way of explaining my own predicament before I had the words to explain it on my own.”
“It’s part of what I love about music and art, is that it occupies a space that asks more questions than it provides answers.”—Carrie Brownstein
Throughout our conversation, Brownstein displays natural modesty, takes her time to carefully articulate thoughts, and shows sensitivity towards my own self-consciousness while speaking with someone I admire. One subject that comes up is her relationship with spirituality, as she uses the words “prayer” and “meditation” in describing her guitar playing. She shares that it has a new presence in her life after her mother and stepfather’s passing, and elaborates on how it relates to her music.
“I don’t know how you’d be a creative person or a person steeped in music and not have some sense of otherworldliness, like some sense of the liminal or the in-between, or some conversation that transcends the everyday,” she says. “It’s part of what I love about music and art, is that it occupies a space that asks more questions than it provides answers. There’s something spiritual about that.”
YouTube It
Performing live on The SoCal Sound radio show, Brownstein sings lead vox on “Hunt You Down” while Tucker chimes in on the choruses, as both carry the song’s minimalistic, incisive guitar lines.
The lineup was eventually filled out with Drew Adler (drums) and Colins "Bear" Regisford (bass). (Paul moved to lead guitar in 2013 and Kaleen Reading took over for drums in 2015. Ultimately, Paul left earlier this year after recording Perfect.)
Over the course of three albums and a remarkable brand-new EP, the band's sound has expanded, evolved, and deepened with more engaging melodies, gallant songwriting, and stouter song structures. Through time, gigs, and reps, Mannequin Pussy progressed beyond the linear rage often dished by young punks. The brazen, brash, locomotive charm in Marisa's lyrics and the band's expansive sound has become fully complemented by a refined approach with smoother, swelling dynamics and sharper care of their craft.
Touring in support of late 2019's Patience and the pandemic-produced 2021 EP Perfect (both released on Epitpah Records), Mannequin Pussy's Dabice and Regisford invited PG to Nashville's High Watt for a gear chat before their sold-out show during their first-ever headlining run. Just ahead of soundcheck, Missy gushed about her first P-90 guitar, while "Bear" admits that his Player Precision proves he should've always been a P dude. And they each detonate the boom with their own strategic stomp of stank.
(Sadly, shortly after this Rundown was filmed, on October 23, Mannequin Pussy had their van, gear, and band merch stolen from outside their Akron, Ohio hotel room. Brooklyn Vegan chronicled the disaster with some MP Instagram posts and a link to their GoFundMe page. Thankfully, the van and some merch have been recovered, however, all their equipment is still missing.)
[Brought to you by D'Addario XPND Pedalboard: https://www.daddario.com/XPNDRR]Three P-90s and the Truth!
During the band's last pre-shutdown tour, Missy broke a string on her Strat (more on that one in a minute). She didn't have a backup and the opener let her borrow their Reverend. From the first chord, she was hooked.
"The minute I plugged in this guitar, I looked around and said, 'What the fuck is this thing?!' [laughs] It sounded so good." She started investigating Reverend and quickly decided to treat herself to a brand-new Jetstream 390. While she only had the guitar for about a month when we filmed, she already appreciated how its Rev 9A5 P-90s were much quieter than her Strat single-coils. The band typically plays in standard (they wrote one song in drop A) and the 390 takes Ernie Ball 2215 Nickel Skinny Top/Heavy Bottom strings (.010–.052).
Mean Green
For the first six years of Mannequin Pussy, if you saw Missy, you saw this Strat. Three days before MP's first tour, her house was ransacked including her beloved Jaguar. ("It was the first guitar I spent real money on.")
She rushed down to a local Philly guitar store and scooped this Fender MIM Strat. The last half-dozen years she upgraded all its hardware and pickups, but it was still no match for the Rev Jetstream 390.
Bring It!
While recording 2016's Romantic, Missy plugged into the brother of this head. Loving how it sounded in the room and on tape, she asked the New Jersey homebuilder if he'd do another. The Dark Moon, a sun-yellow head has a circuit based on '70s Traynors. It rocks through a no-name 2x12 cabinet. Besides how good this amp sounds, the best part might be the "on" switch that's labeled "bring it." (The Drkmttr sticker is for a Nashville-based volunteer-run underground arts collective for artists of all kinds.)
Ambiance and Aggression
Mannequin Pussy lives life in the fast lane. Swift, succinct, missile-like songs fill their catalog. On the flip side, there's a balance of beauty and buoyancy that counters the rage. The two personalities are encompassed on Missy's board. The anger comes from the ZVEX Double Rock Vexter and EarthQuaker Devices Hoof. The prettier mood breezes on the backs of the Strymon BigSky and Electro-Harmonix Deluxe Memory Boy. A Boss VE-20 Vocal Performer Effects Processor further animates Missy's singing. And a Voodoo Lab Pedal Power 2 Plus juice the stomps while the Ernie Ball VPJR Tuner keeps her guitars in check.
Bear’s Goldilocks Bass
Regisford's lone bass on this run was a Fender Player Precision that's all stock except for an upgraded Badass bridge. He rides with Ernie Ball Power Slinkys (.055–.110) on it. Throughout the set Bear will switch between fingerstyle and hammering with a pick. When he gets rocking, he'll strum with a Dunlop Tortex .88 mm greenie.
Tiny but Mighty
After touring with lunky stacks, Colins was on the lookout for an amp that was portable but still blasted. His search ended when he encountered the Orange Terror Bass that belts out 500 watts and is relative of the favored AD200 Bass head. The diminutive dominator runs through a SWR Big Bertha 2x15 cab (covered by Deebo from Friday.)
Don’t Shred on Me, Bruh!
Bear was upfront and honest when going through his pedalboard explaining that the EQD Bit Commander and Afterneath plus the Boss DD-6 Digital Delay are just-for-fun effects. He will randomly kick them on throughout the set when he's feeling it. The key to his tectonic-shifting tone is the Abominable Electronics Don't Shred on Me that is a Rat clone (using the same LM308 chip) with some capacitor changes making it a low-end blanket of dirt and drive. Everything comes to life thanks to the Walrus Audio Aetos.
