Tag Archives: CORIN TUCKER

CORIN TUCKER’S ‘1,000 YEARS’

Sidelined and silenced, at least musically, for nearly a half-decade, former Sleater-Kinney comrade Corin Tucker has finally returned, applying newfound Classical maneuvers, richer dramatic emotionality, and a little eccentric percussion to her veritable indie rockist notions on a long-anticipated album that’s sure to please.

But it hasn’t been a truly satisfying sabbatical from music for the iconic ‘riot grrrl’ of yore. Since Olympia, Washington’s most notorious trio amicably departed, she’s been away from her loving husband for long periods of time, making isolation the major topic of interest for the caring mother-of-two.

“I wanted to branch out and do different types of music,” Tucker says while her young children (one born during her former bands’ heyday) fidget in the background. “We did use strings on Hot Rocks (Sleater-Kinney’s artfully deviating ’99 disc). We tried it, but not very much. I’m committed now to different musical styles. But I haven’t toured in four years.”

While Sleater-Kinney’s liberated feministic perspective advanced the strong-willed non-conformist determination empowering less financially and commercially successful riotous foremothers Bikini Kill, Team Dresch and Bratmobile, Tucker’s latest outfit concentrates on inwardly focused themes given curious instrumental abstractions.

Teamed up with veteran Unwound percussionist, Sara Lund, and unjustifiably unheralded Golden Bears bassist, Seth Lorinczi, Corin Tucker Band’s 1,000 Years nobly expands upon the raspy punk-inspired electricity embodying her previous troika.

Although Tucker remains a motherly homebody, her husband, respected movie director Lance Bangs, continues to stay on the road for lengthy periods. This doesn’t please Tucker, especially since the 30-minute HBO-sponsored documentary, The Lazarus Effect (promoting a life-saving antiretroviral medicine), took Bangs to Africa, where the fear of AIDS and criminal activity takes its toll on a spouse anguishing quietly in safer American confines.

With that in mind, many 1,000 Years highlights are full of incessant yearning.

Tucker’s frustration could be heard in her voice as she confides, “Lance interviewed people who needed AIDS treatment, traveling the African continent. You never knew if he’d be ill. I was home with two kids worried. It was sometimes impossible to get a hold of him. So this album was about that time in my life.”

In fact, “Half A World Away” speaks directly about the situation. A proggish number smitten with fleet jungle rhythms and sleigh bells ‘til a more conventional guitar-bass-drum setting unfurls halfway through, it’s full of longing sentiments and frighteningly quivered fervency. Then there’s the separation anxiety imbibing, desolate piano ballad, “Miles Away” (evoking freak-folk starlet Regina Spektor via ‘70s-based laureate Carole King), and eruptive guitar-emblazoned neo-psychedelic treatise, “Big Goodbye.”

Tucker jumps in, “I wrote “Big Goodbye” for the Twilight / New Moon soundtrack. I loved the character and the voice in the book. I took it as a creative writing assignment.”

Another New Moon composition, “1,000 Years,” brings aboard a gothic narrative concerning coming back to life. For Tucker, it felt like a powerful return to form after leaving the music scene for an extended maternity leave. An eloquently commencing title track doused by fuzzy guitar flanging, it’s easy to get into and wholly triumphant.

Make no mistake, Tucker’s latent prog-rock influences (sometimes disseminated from Sleater-Kinney’s final album, ‘05s The Woods) could also be felt firsthand throughout. On contemplative rampage, “Handed Love,” she juggles a few uniquely strewn motifs, as simmering art-rock organ inaugurates the hauntingly bleak Blues-fueled ‘got love if you want it’ banter infiltrating forceful Who-like guitar buzzing to its inevitable burn out.

“That’s very experimental. I tried a bunch of different ideas,” Tucker claims. “Its lyrics involve my friends’ struggling relationships. It’s often so difficult to maintain a connection.”

Musically, her own connection to current band mates, Lund and Lorinczi, couldn’t be any tighter. That’s the reason this newest venture could be positively compared to Tucker’s erstwhile long-time associates.

“Sara’s an amazing talent. She added a lot of bells and percussive elements to the set.”

“Seth’s approach to production was to make each song complete sonically. On the acoustic songs, he worked on my guitars to let it sound complete. And he wrote and arranged the string parts. I think there’s some guitar stuff that’ll take you to another place. But part of what you do in your musical past always fills out your next project. You’re always trying to build on that.”

Inevitably, there are a few instances that graciously recall Sleater-Kinney’s best restive tunes. Fiery love-struck wrangler, “Doubt,” retains the same shrieking yelps, sultry pleading and screaming six-string fury of yesteryear. Utilizing the famous soft-loud catch-and-release approach nearby Seattle grunge bands once touted, this unguarded ‘stress track’ hammers away at the brain before completely dropping out, then re-emerging with a murky organ groove underpinning an oncoming train wreck that brings it all back home.

Less indicative of past forays, one more fast-slow changeup, “It’s Always Summer,” begs for reconciliation as Tucker pines for her distant lover stuck inside a delirious Third World nation. Approximating, acoustical Appalachian folk, Tucker’s desirous lamentation nearly slips into Quarterflash’s compelling ‘80s scorcher “Suddenly Last Summer” until Classical strings darken the mood for an understated heavenly choral swoon.

“That song happened naturally on acoustic guitar. It took on its own personality. Seth’s standup bass was then brought in,” Tucker lets on.

In similar fashion, soft-toned ballad “Dragon” drifts by eerily, contrasting sensitive orchestral poignancy with slowly bashed cymbals and toms. Notwithstanding the abrasive electric guitar, bedraggling elegantly strummed mood-scape, “Pulling Pieces,” its misty flourishes waver through downcast verses numbingly quavering ‘I’m just a shadow of what I used to be.’ These sullen moments of ravaged aloneness make Tucker’s solo plight a slight departure from her ‘riot grrrl’ past. Being a mother of two with a husband can’t be easy and it’s certainly different than being a semi-famous ‘90s rock star.

But she lets it all hang out on manic depressant refutation, “Riley,” where her rhythmic guitar willfully breaks into “So You Want To Be A Rock And Roll Star.”

“I love the Byrds. Patti Smith’s version is an all-time favorite of mine,” Tucker insists. “Seth and I are also both big fans of ‘70s music. And we’ve been playing music 20 years so these songs touch on our relationship with music.”

Not surprisingly then, Tucker’s piano strolls into “Rock And Roll Star” one more time during the tear-dropped timidity of “Thrift Store Clothes.”

Undeniably, Tucker’s exalted indie rock status secures her past and commands her future. But now she’s not afraid to reach further back to earlier torchbearers for fresh inspiration, even though she’s in her mid-thirties now. A few obvious influences, some being very respectable independent women, get mentioned before she has to hang up the phone and attend to the kids.

“I grew up in a household that had music playing all the time. My dad had amazing taste. We listened to the Rolling Stones and Bob Dylan,” she remembers. “When I was 10, I got into Chrissie Hynde (of the Pretenders) and Joan Jett. And I loved Patti Smith. All these women had a toughness and presentation that was all about the music. It’s like, ‘Look out. Here I come.’ They demanded attention in a serious way. It wasn’t about being a starlet.”

Words of wisdom, indeed. Especially when reiterated more than 1,000 days, if not 1,000 Years, after Tucker took time off to raise a family following the resounding decade-long success of a seminal female trio still receiving idol praise and recognition. There’s no rust on this lady.

RIDIN’ ALONG SLEATER-KINNEY BROWSING AT ‘THE WOODS’

Image result for SLEATER KINNEY FOREWORD: I found it extremely difficult to get an interview with Sleater-Kinney frontline Carrie Brownstein and Corin Tucker. Album after album went by with no luck. Damn, I really tried reaching out. I caught these iconic feminist punk mavericks at Manhattan’s now-defunct club, Tramps, where they belted out tracks from ‘97 apex, Dig Me Out. Eight years and four well-received albums later, The Woods broadened S-K’s scope without getting bogged down in desecrated jamming. But they disappointed some faithful fans with its elaborately elongated compositions. Anyway, I finally got newly recruited drummer, Janet Weiss (of keyboard-heavy pop eccentrics, Quasi), to do this ’05 interview. Within a year, the gals disbanded. This article originally appeared in Aquarian Weekly.
Swindling the name of a popular road in former home base, Olympia, Washington, Sleater-Kinney may be underground rock’s most ambitious combo. Forming at the height of nearby Seattle’s grunge scene, the liberated trio almost single-handedly carried the torch for estrogen-fueled punk independence throughout the late-‘90s. Continuing to take chances over a decade hence with little serious competition, raggedly charming singer-guitarists’ Carrie Brownstein and Corin Tucker (incipient drummer Lora Macfarlane was replaced by Janet Weiss) gained attention delivering boisterously somersaulting rock scrums coalescing guttural call and response wails with responsive choral tantrums. The universally revered all-female outfit preliminarily brought a stimulatingly chaotic assault and fervently amateurish immediacy to DIY autonomy, lifting the deeply felt feminist empowerment and authoritative railing of seminal local riot grrrls Bratmobile, Bikini Kill, and Team Dresch (at odds with misogynist cock-rock suckers) to inform their veritable individualist attack. Persevering despite a few surprisingly cordial concessions to near-mainstream possibilities, Sleater-Kinney has nevertheless managed to retain their rowdy energetic roar and roughhewn action-packed minimalism, exuding the mindful emphatic adolescent romp and desperate emotional bloodletting influential ‘70s-commenced punk lasses Poly Styrene, the Raincoats, the Slits, and Delta 5 once relished. Following a formative self-titled debut, the first condemnatory words uttered on Sleater-Kinney’s magnificent ’96 breakthrough, Call The Doctor, were ‘they want to socialize you/ they want to purify you/ they want to dignify you/ analyze and terrorize you.’ Its portentous provocation and sociopolitical snubbing hearkened directly back to the Sex Pistols snottily steadfast sneer, Never Mind the Bullocks. Throughout, Seattle native Brownstein and Eugene-bred Tucker’s torturously haunted nagging voices and unbridled wiry 6-string mingling charged forth with gale force intensity, building a frantically gritty urgency frothily underlying the imminently claustrophobic maelstrom. Raspy scintillating plea, "I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone," with its sniping dovetailed harmonies, remains the most riveting, best-known composition concocted by these distressed damsels. When all the hit and run frenzy subsides, the restrained "Heart Attack" shows off a lighter side that’d affect some latter recordings. By ‘97s equally fierce Dig Me Out, Quasi percussionist Janet Weiss came aboard, supplementing the ululating quavers and strangulated sentiments with skin bashing, cymbal slashing fury. ‘Motorific’ sonic grumbler "The Drama You’ve Been Craving" and feedback-sizzled "Heart Factory" complement the flanged riff circularity of battering-ram "Words And Guitar." Though Sleater-Kinney still fire up the amps, oft-times more controlled verses counter the anticipated explosive choral flights. Originally from Hollywood, California, Weiss found solace listening to L.A. radio as a teen, gravitating to Portland (the threesome’s current hometown) after a stint in San Francisco. A big music fan, she joined a nondescript band "off the cuff" at age 22, learning their songs in two weeks time. "I was in over my head on tour having not played drums regularly beforehand," the gracious black-haired Weiss offers following a ten day European jaunt playing festivals and clubs. "I then met Carrie and Corin through a mutual friend. We got together and sounded great. We were enamored by the rawness of punk and the early ‘90s were influenced by that rebelliousness. The first song we worked on, "Dig Me Out," they had wanted to put drums to." Widening impulsive conviction, more elaborately extensive arrangements, and improved tempo and setting variations consume ‘99s artfully disparate fourth album, The Hot Rock. Sleater-Kinney’s usual frontline screaming yelps take a back seat to actual tenderhearted singing while the pro forma confrontational edginess becomes sideswiped by contemplative sympathy as their archetypal doubt and despair reveal more questions than answers. "I haven’t listened to that album all the way through in years. I was upset by the way it sounded," confides Weiss. "It was a hard record to make and emotionally wrenching. I didn’t like the drum sound. So many parts were really rigid." A convenient holding pattern ensued with delectable ’00 pop bromide, All Hands On the Bad One, a consistently harder rocking affair that’s less idiosyncratic, yet more vulnerable and conventional, scandalously exploiting the cuter side of S-K’s appeal. Hand-clapped cavort, "The Ballad Of A Ladyman," even utilized violin, a sign of the broader instrumentation soon-to-be decorating future endeavors. Guest keyboardist Steve Fisk (storied Seattle producer), string arranger-cellist Brent Arnold (now a semi-successful solo artist), Quasi’s Sam Coomes (theremin), and, on the thumping shakedown "Step Aside," trumpet, alto and tenor sax, alter the sweet ‘n sour soulful sass of noisier insurrection, One Beat. Personal tribulations as well as 9-11’s tragic circumstances (befitting the restive "world explode in flames" explication) embolden the implacable lyrical poison. Tucker’s double duties as working mother vitalize the impatient "Faraway," demandingly chirping ‘7:30 nurse the baby on the couch.’ "No Sleater-Kinney record will ever be totally positive because of the two viewpoints of our main writers. Carrie’s always gonna have a dark outlook at the end. Corin’s more hopeful. The contrast is built in. Their take on 9-11 was even different. It was impossible to make a happy record after your whole country is turned upside down," Weiss admits. Back with a new producer and coarser cacophonous concussion, the gal pals returned in ’05 for valiantly distorturous scrambler, The Woods. Opening skewered parable, "The Fox," brings fuzzy guitar suss to a scavenging romp not unlike ex-Helium front lady Mary Timony’s exploratory hot licked solo projects. "She’s definitely a comrade. We’ve toured with her for years and are great fans. That’s a comparison no one minds. She has that weird allegorical fairytale styling," Weiss agrees. Discontent lingers across the cynically auspicious neo-Classical folk-inaugurated barrage, "Modern Girl," placing earthy harmonica next to buzzing amplifier clamor to thicken its resolve. Lyrically vindictive "Jumpers" seemingly ponders a nervous breakdown. And the protracted finale, "Night Light," develops into an unexpectedly unrefined long jam where Weiss gets to display her limber chops. "I got to flex my muscles more,’ Weiss says about the experimental closer. "It allowed me to try different things. The more space there is, the easier it is to fill. We did that in one take. It’s two songs combined with an unplanned middle improvisation. We thought, ‘Where is this going?’ It’s very of-the-moment." The feeling of being completely fed up and close to the edge of lunacy drifts inside heavily aggressive, sometimes autobiographical renouncements. This ballsy approach invariably suits The Woods mood shifting dissatisfaction. "It’s not the most settling of times, inwardly, outwardly, politically, or sonically. We felt the same things and wanted to ground people by not making a passive record. A lot of bands are being quiet and doing what’s expected of them and we wanted to be defiant," Weiss confides. "It’s slightly uncomfortable to listen to our own records. But I’ve enjoyed the last two more than the previous ones." Instead of having mainstay John Goodmanson at the helm, S-K decided to change producers in order to capture The Woods’ ferociously rambunctious heft. According to Weiss, Dave Fridmann (Flaming Lips/ Mercury Rev) had the requisite tools to devise a more abrasive, over the top craziness. "The songs were more expansive and there were guitar solos. We wanted to really rip people’s ears open and wanted someone to push us to make something different then One Beat and as good."