Sleater-Kinney
Karen Murphy*Sleater-Kinney are back to their old tricks, which means trying out some new tricks. The Pacific Northwest punks grabbed the world’s imagination with the 1996 riot-grrrl bombshell Call the Doctor, but ever since, they’ve refused to repeat themselves. Everything about their new album is outside their zone, starting with the title: Path of Wellness. It’s the first album they’ve made as a duo—the band is down to Carrie Brownstein and Corin Tucker, after a painful and public split with longtime drummer Janet Weiss.
On Path of Wellness, Sleater-Kinney sound as though Tucker and Brownstein figured there was no way to get back to normal, so they might as well get as weird as possible. No matter how long you’ve been a fan, you’ll hear plenty of stylistic stretches to startle you here. As they sing together in “Worry with You,” “Let’s get lost, baby, and take a wrong turn.”
But that’s always been a credo for this band. Back in the Nineties, fans got outraged when Dig Me Out didn’t sound like Call the Doctor, just as they got outraged when The Hot Rock didn’t resemble either of them. That restless spirit carried the threesome all the way through to their 2005 sign-off The Woods, where they blew up into a raging jam band. After a ten-year hiatus, they returned in 2015 with the triumphant comeback No Cities To Love. But their last album, The Center Won’t Hold, was their most divisive move ever—a slick synth-pop detour that sounded far more like their producer, St. Vincent’s Annie Clark, with Weiss barely audible. The makeover wasn’t just polarizing for fans—it ripped the band apart. As Weiss said, “I just didn’t fit anymore.”
As songwriters, Tucker and Brownstein are in much stronger shape than on The Center Won’t Hold. “Path of Wellness” kicks off the album with gooey synths, Talking Heads/B-52s-style clink-clank percussion, and the holistic chant “I’m on a path of wellness.” Brownstein’s excellent “Method” is a moodily vulnerable plea, where she admits, “I’m singing about love, and it sounds like hate.” Like so much of the album, it’s processing grief, especially when she sings, “I’m late to the party / I’m late to the game / I’m late to your heart.”
“Shadow Town” is the first Sleater-Kinney song where it sounds like they’ve been listening to loads of Steely Dan (who would have thought?), ending with a groovy Fender Rhodes electric-piano solo. For good measure, there’s also a cowbell hook and a “Be My Baby” drum hook. The Steely influence runs surprisingly deep all over the album. At times, Brownstein’s guitar channels Denny Dias to the point where you expect her to break into “Your Gold Teeth II.”
“Tomorrow’s Grave” is a prog-metal grinder that takes a more serious stab at the heavy flourishes on The Woods, with Tucker intoning apocalyptic lyrics to match: “The sky was gone when at last I woke / Daylight trapped behind a deadly cloak.” “High in the Grass” starts off sounding nothing like Sleater-Kinney—more like Joan Baez replacing Ric Ocasek in the Cars—until Tucker finally unleashes her roof-raising wail for the chorus.
But for the most part, Tucker and Brownstein get down to brass tacks emotionally—they spend this album pleading for love and tenderness. They’re not going for rock anthems or fist-pumping power chords. (Without Weiss, there would be little point.) The finale “Have Mercy” is Tucker praying for human kindness to save the day, with an Eighties pop sheen in the mode of Pat Benatar circa “Shadows of the Night.” (It would have right into Pat’s Precious Time or Get Nervous.) On Path of Wellness, Sleater-Kinney sound like they’re regrouping after a period of loss and isolation, taking stock of what remains. And in 2021, they’re not the only ones.
ALBUM REVIEWS
Grandeur sits at the heart of ‘This Music May Contain Hope’, RAYE’s second album, and the result feels nothing short of breathtaking. On this record, the singer born Rachel Keen explores a wide spectrum of sounds across its 73 minute length, moving from emotional ballads to lively funk moments and the jazz pop style she has become closely associated with. It can feel overwhelming at first, yet the magic that comes from RAYE fully committing to her vision makes the experience rewarding from start to finish.
‘This Music May Contain Hope’, a conceptual project about pushing through insecurity and heartbreak, unfolds like a lavish stage production. RAYE takes on the dual role of main character and guiding voice throughout the story. “Allow me to set the scene. Our story begins at 2:27am on a rainy night in Paris. Cue the thunder,” she says during the opening track ‘Girl Under The Grey Cloud’, which arrives with sweeping orchestral strings. Spoken passages appear across the album, helping shape the narrative and giving the project a sense of direction, almost like hearing the official recording of a Broadway show.
With this framework in place, the South London artist allows herself to fully explore the album’s diverse musical palette, and most of the time it works in her favor. Sometimes she fully embraces the theatrical side of the concept, especially during the closing section of the smooth R&B track ‘The WhatsApp Shakespeare’. Other moments are delivered more straightforwardly, such as the emotional slow building ballad ‘I Know You’re Hurting’. She also revisits her earlier dance influences with the impressive house track ‘Life Boat’.
Across the entire album, two things stand out clearly. RAYE’s flexible vocals sound better than ever, and her songwriting feels sharper than it has before. Take the playful highlight ‘I Hate The Way I Look Today’, a swing jazz inspired track reminiscent of Ella Fitzgerald, where she admits “I’m okay to be lonely / If I’m lonely and skinny / I have such silly self-loathing thoughts, it seems”. Then there is the emotional storytelling in ‘Nightingale Lane’: “It was right there, early June / Next to Old Park Avenue / Standing in the rain, I watched him walk away”.
Despite all the vulnerability and emotional struggles explored throughout the record, RAYE ultimately reaches a place of optimism, staying true to the album’s title. She gathers her close friends on ‘Click Clack Symphony’ with support from Hans Zimmer, finds closure with guidance from Al Green on the smooth seventies soul inspired ‘Goodbye Henry’, and reaches toward something greater alongside her sisters Amma and Absolutely on the uplifting ‘Joy’ as she searches to be “free of all the pain and every fear”. After the stormy opening imagery of that “rainy night” and “thunder”, RAYE eventually realizes that “the sun exists behind the clouds”, as she shares on ‘Happier Times Ahead’.
‘This Music May Contain Hope’ shows RAYE performing at her absolute peak. The album feels huge in scale and emotionally powerful, yet it remains rooted in honest experiences and real feelings. Yes, it asks a lot from the listener, but that is also what makes it so special. Every dramatic moment and musical shift feels like RAYE claiming her independence and finally creating music entirely on her own terms.
