There had to be a silver lining to the dark cloud of Sleater Kinney’s demise: part of it came through Carrie Brownstein’s brilliant satire Portlandia; the other aspect being Corin Tucker’s eponymous band (not to be confused with the ’70s southern-rock band – though the idea of Tucker interpreting of truckstop and grits rock’n’roll is a concept worth exploring).
Kill My Blues is Corin Tucker Band’s second album, and it’s more of the same goodness Tucker delivered a couple of years ago with her first (notional) solo record. Tucker’s hollering vocals remain as enthralling as ever – you’re called to attention, thrust against the wall and delivered a lesson in punk attitude. The music is tough, punchy and packed full of the punk rock integrity for which the Pacific North-West is renowned.
There’s slick gym boot pop in Groundhog Day, tough grrrl garage rock in I Don’t Wanna Go, slick and groovy blues-rock in Neskowin and even a none-too-subtle celebration of Smells Like Teen Spirit in Constance. You can get your dose of Call the Doctor-era Sleater Kinney on No Bad News Tonight; None Like You holds you close and whispers sweet nothings in your ear, while Joey takes your hand and whisks you off onto the dance floor with a lick that’ll reduce you to blithering mess. Outgoing Message channels Pete Townshend at his contemplative best, Blood Bones And Sand is dark and reflective and Tiptoe is dirty and angry in a Jon Spencer meets Breeders sort of a way. Sleater Kinney is dead. Long live Corin Tucker Band.
BY PATRICK EMERY
Best Track: Don’t Wanna Go.
If You Like These, You’ll Like This: Kill Rock Stars, Rock Stars Kill, Stars Kill Rock and Drinking With Puddles compilations (among others).
In A Word: Tuckerville
