When Sleater-Kinney made their way onto the stage and launched into the opening riff of “Price Tag” (the opening track off the 2015 album No Cities to Love) my breath was caught, part way between a scream and a strangled sob. I found myself crumpling, my bottom lip trembling and my face cave in on itself. Carrie Brownstein’s velvet toned, overdriven guitar was piercing my heart, driven in there by powerhouse drummer Janet Weiss. I knew that if I let go for just a second I would be reduced to a shuddering, weeping mess.
One year out of their ten year hiatus, Sleater-Kinney are impossibly tight, and between them they cover everything you could possibly want from a band. Brownstein is unreal, the very embodiment of human magnetism. She struts and sneers, hair in her eyes, fists somehow flying at the same time as she rips on the guitar. She is devastating, one moment she is all cold ego and liquid, tonally bottomless riffs, and the next her face is all smile and you’re drawn out of yourself and let in for just a second. Weiss matches Brownstein in stoic confidence, driving the band with heavy, pulsing beats, tossing her head and rolling her eyes as she slides out of brusque and efficient drum fills. Corin Tucker plays the mediator. While her voice is soaring and transcendentally powerful, she has an air of vulnerability and she plays into this strength. There is palpable tension as she pushes herself right to the very edge during every song.
They are the kind of band that would be equally incredible in a stadium as they are in a small venue. Although Auckland’s Powerstation didn’t sell out for the show it was suitably packed with dedicated fans, young women, middle aged music critics, and crusty old punks. The show was perfectly curated, with Wellington band Mermaidens playing a slick and captivating opening set. Everything moved swiftly, Sleater-Kinney were on the stage by nine-thirty and they played for almost an hour and a half, making it well worth the while for fans who’ve spent a decade without the riot grrrl champions. Their set list included new and old songs, and in spite of jetlag the band delivered everything at full throttle from start to finish.
Sleater-Kinney are one of the most important bands in my life. When I listened to their first album I was overcome when I realised that I wasn’t alone in my approach to writing and playing music. When I read Brownstein’s memoirs I couldn’t read another book for months afterwards because the connection was too great. On Monday night I felt like I had been split right open as I watched my idols play my favourite songs. In this situation I am certainly not an objective, neutral concert goer, but that doesn’t matter because Sleater-Kinney’s performance was almost excruciatingly moving, and not a single person in the audience could have asked for anything more.