Sleater-Kinney Album: "The Woods" Release Date: May 24, 2005 Label: Sub Pop Rev Value: [8.0/10] Genre: Rock Styles: Indie Rock, Alternative Pop/ Rock,Riot Grrrl Buy It

Tracklist:

1 Fox (3:25)
2 Wilderness (3:40)
3 What's Mine Is Yours (4:58)
4 Jumpers (4:24)
5 Modern Girl (3:01)
6 Entertain (4:55)
7 Rollercoaster (4:55)
8 Steep Air (4:04)
9 Let's Call It Love (11:01)
10 Night Light (3:40)

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review by:Allmusic
reviewer: Johnny Loftus
Album Value: (4.5/5)

Far from the retreat implied in its title, The Woods is another passionate statement from Sleater-Kinney, equally inspired by the call-to-arms of their previous album, One Beat, and the give-and-take of their live sets, particularly their supporting slot on Pearl Jam's 2003 tour. Throughout their career, the band has found ways to refine and elaborate on the fiery spirit that makes them so distinctive without diminishing it. The Woods is no exception -- it may be Sleater-Kinney's most mature and experimental album to date, but unlike most mature and experimental albums released by bands entering their second decade, it doesn't forget to rock like a beast. The album's opening salvo, "The Forest," is shockingly feral, an onslaught of heavy, angry, spiralling guitars, ridiculously loud drums, and Corin Tucker's inimitable, love-them-or-hate-them vocals. It's so crushingly dense that it's hard to believe it came from Dave Fridmann's studio; reportedly, The Woods' sessions were challenging for band and producer alike, but from the results, it's clear that they pushed each other to make some of the best work of both of their careers. Though it may be hard to believe, at first, that this is a Fridmann-produced album, his contributions become a little clearer on tracks like the dysfunctional domesticity of "Wilderness," which has the depth and spaciousness usually associated with his work. However, it's easy enough to hear that The Woods is quintessential Sleater-Kinney. This may be the band's most self-assured sounding work yet -- their music has never lacked confidence and daring, but now they sound downright swaggering: "What's Mine Is Yours" is a subversive nod to Led Zeppelin and also captures Sleater-Kinney's own formidable power as a live act. Tucker's voice and viewpoints are as thoughtful and fierce as ever, and as usual, she's even better when aided and abetted by Carrie Brownstein's harmonies, as on "Jumpers." Capturing both the deeply depressing and liberating sides of suicide, the song moves from moody almost-pop to an intense but still melodic assault; unlike so many bands, Sleater-Kinney can go back and forth between several ideas within one song and never sound forced or muddled. A martial feeling runs through The Woods, but unlike the more overtly political One Beat, dissent is a more of an overall state of mind here. The more literal songs falter a bit, but "Modern Girl" is saved by its sharp lyrics ("I took my money and bought a donut/The hole's the size of the entire world"), while Tucker and Brownstein's dueling vocals and Janet Weiss' huge drums elevate "Entertain" above its easy targets of retro rock and reality TV. However, the songs about floundering or complicated relationships draw blood: "Rollercoaster," an extended food and fairground metaphor for an up-and-down long-term relationship with tough-girl backing vocals and an insistent cowbell driving it along, is as insightful as it is fun and witty. The unrepentantly sexy "Let's Call It Love" is another standout, comparing love to a boxing match (complete with bells ringing off the rounds) and a game of poker. At 11 minutes long, the song might be indulgent (especially by Sleater-Kinney's usually economic standards), but its ebbs and flows and well-earned guitar solos underscore the feeling that the band made The Woods for nobody but themselves. It flows seamlessly into "Night Light," an equally spooky and hopeful song that offers promise, but no easy answers -- a fitting end to an album that often feels more engaged in struggle than the outcome of it. One thing is clear, though: Sleater-Kinney remain true to their ideals, and after all this time, they still find smart, gripping ways of articulating them.
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review by:Pitchfork
reviewer: Stephen M. Deusner
Album Value: (9.0/10)

By now you probably don't need to be told the particulars of Sleater-Kinney's new album, The Woods: about how they signed with Sub Pop, making it their first album since 1995's Call the Doctor not released by Kill Rock Stars; about how they hired Dave Fridmann to produce and recorded it in rural New York instead of Washington State; about how they wanted a heavier sound that mines classic rock like Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, and Jimi Hendrix for inspiration; about how one song is more than 11 minutes in length.

So it should come as no surprise that The Woods marks a significant transformation for the band-- one they first hinted at on 2000's All Hands on the Bad One, and crept closer toward on 2002's One Beat. Nor should anyone be shocked that, despite the new song structures, guitar solos, and drum fills, Brownstein's guitar still roars wildly, Weiss's drums still thunder, and Tucker still wails with a primal urgency that is one of the most compelling sounds in rock music today. What hasn't necessarily been made explicitly clear is that, even in the face of its cock-rock trappings, The Woods most closely recalls the righteous fury of their first great albums, Call the Doctor (1995) and Dig Me Out (1996).

The brash economy of punk, for Sleater-Kinney at least, has always been just a short step away from the lumbering behemoth of hard rock. "The Fox", however, seems to say otherwise. Opening the album, this piece of Aesop rock is about a fox and a duck, and I think it just might be allegorical. But it's loud and it thrashes and Tucker shouts to be heard over the din. It's ferociously uninviting, but it works both as a context-providing preface to the nine songs that follow and as a deterrent for weak-eared listeners. Those who make it to "Wilderness" will have passed a test of sorts.

"Wilderness" and most of "What's Mine Is Yours" sound like prime Sleater-Kinney, as does much of the rest of The Woods. Fridmann's presence is far from disruptive; you can hardly hear him in the mix, except for a little sludge in the low end-- a nice substitution for a bass player. Instead of weighing them down with single-mic'd Flaming Lips drums or Delgados density, he simply steps out of the way and allows them to sound larger, louder, and looser.

Turning their crosshairs away from the overt political issues of One Beat, Sleater-Kinney's amplification here sounds like a reaction to the current wave of backwards-looking boys-club bands that idolize post-punk dramatists like Joy Division and the Cure and abstractors like Gang of Four and Wire. (And anyway, weren't the women of Elastica working this same nostalgia, like, 10 years ago?) On "Entertain"-- the first single, no less-- Brownstein chides the eyeliner brigade righteously: "You come around looking 1984/ You're such a bore, 1984/ Nostalgia, you're using it like a whore/ It's better than before."(...)

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review by: Shakingthrough
reviewer: Peter Landwehrà
Album Value: (4.6/5)

Sleater-Kinney has delivered an album that should give notice to other rock bands currently entering their second decade or longer: It’s possible for a veteran group to expand its sound without sacrificing an ounce of its passion or integrity. The Woods is a radical stylistic departure from the Pacific Northwest-based trio’s previous work.

Complementary guitarists/vocalists Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein (and drummer Janet Weiss) executed a similar stylistic shift with their second-to-last release, 2000’s All Hands On The Bad One, in which they used conventional pop melodies and slower, more graceful arrangements in combination with typical fast-paced hooks and dueling vocals to craft one of their most accessible albums. The Woods is the anti-Bad One, burying conventional pop-rock structures beneath distorted fuzz and an often-deafening wall of feedback to pay tribute to classic guitar heroics. That’s not to say that The Woods isn’t accessible -- it just doesn’t aim to please as obviously as Bad One. It's as if, having conquered punk, Sleater-Kinney listened to old Led Zeppelin and Jimi Hendrix albums and figured, hey, we can do that too. And, boy, do they -- masterfully so.

The Woods’ opening cut, "The Fox,” explodes with Tucker's wail at its most shrieking-banshee arresting as she belts out lyrics that seem inspired from a dark children's fable regarding a fox trying to coax a duck out of the water in hopes of making a meal out of it. The track is a declaration of war on everything one knows about the band. Weiss pulverizes the skins, and the guitars of Brownstein and Tucker play off of one another with furious intensity. Throughout The Woods, guitar chords hum behind a disconcerting backfill of noise, every note treated to the meticulous production techniques of Dave Fridmann (The Flaming Lips, Phantom Planet, Mercury Rev).

Longtime fans may lament the dearth of tracks featuring patented back-and-forth verses between Brownstein and Tucker, but thankfully there’s the passionate “What's Mine Is Yours” to help ease the pain. Backed by a rolling beat, feedback and heavy distortion, the two singers manage to integrate the band's familiar sound with newer, more adventurous sonic explorations (one of the least of which being a sustained, feedback-fed guitar solo). "Jumpers" is a dark duet about leaping off the Golden Gate Bridge that brilliantly self-destructs the moment its main subject strikes the water. "Rollercoaster" is an exultant combination of peppy handclaps, cowbell and ooh-wa choruses that ruminates on relationships and their similarity to (yes, you guessed it) an amusement-park ride.
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review by: Cokemachineglow
reviewer: David M. Goldstein
Album Value: (94%/100)

If you read CMG with any regularity, you've probably noticed we tend to churn out an inordinate amount of positive reviews. This is the third "best of year" rating we've handed out in as many weeks, we're not shy about rating much lower than that, and we practically abuse the 70-79% range of our scale on a weekly basis. Sure, it may seem like we love everything, but that's only part of the problem; the weekly update nature of our site dictates that we have to be selective, and most folks would prefer to read about the good shit, anyway. So, until we get paid to do this (Ed: Hahahaha), why waste valuable time by listening to crappy records merely for the purpose of having your website look tough?**

I’d surmise that we habitually crowd the 70% range because it’s the dumping ground for a records that the entire staff can appreciate as being unquestionably “very good,” if precious little else. These albums are well written, well produced, and probably get listened to eight or nine times before being reduced to space holder status in your already huge collection. To continue rehashing a line of thought that CMG's Aaron Newell already captured in far better form with his Russian Futurists review a few weeks back: generally appealing to a wide variety of right minded indie-rock folk, everybody can appreciate these kinds of records, but can anybody be truly excited by one?

Stick with me here. I’m going to be exposed to at least a hundred different albums over the course of this year. Of those hundred, at least fifty of them will be “good.” Another twenty will be “very good.” Maybe ten will be “awesome,” and those albums will make my proverbial top ten and force me to kick down money to see those bands live, the ones who compose their albums on laptop computers notwithstanding. Franz Ferdinand was an “awesome” record that held my top spot last year. I listened to that album on repeat last year for maybe a week.

It’s taken the new Sleater-Kinney record to confirm what I had already suspected for far too long: In terms of excellence in rock and roll, my standards, and I’m guessing the standards of the average CMG reader, are way too fucking low. A cursory listen to The Woods raises a host of important questions. Has it really been that long since I’ve been genuinely ‘excited’ by a rock album? A: Yes. Isn’t it the point of rock and roll to be exciting? A: Yes. Why do so many unexciting bands exist? A: Because our low standards allow them to. Why can’t I go forty minutes without feeling a burning, and quite likely unhealthy desire to listen to the 2:50-3:50 portion of “Let’s Call It Love?” A: Because it’s exciting. It’s also the most intense minute of music that Sleater-Kinney has laid to studio tape in their seven album, ten year career, and features the best use of a bell for added emphasis since the last second of Radiohead’s “The Tourist..(...)

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review by: Popmatters
reviewer: Jill LaBrack
Album Value: (9/10)

It's really too bad we're all so jaded now. In the universe that is rock 'n' roll, almost every new release has at least one major reference point (or "trick", as a large percentage of bands have proven). We've heard it all before. We've seen it done better. A band with early critical acclaim can mathematically determine when the reversal of accolades will begin, regardless of the quality of the output (check in with the Arcade Fire in 2008). Others find tepid reviews but all the right moves garner them a second listen and MFA-worthy essays (see "Paul Banks sounds NOTHING like Ian Curtis You Philistine Swine", circa one year after Interpol's debut), only to have that backlash, too. Now, try being the band from the early 1990s who are now on their seventh release and, get this, have never broken up (thus no revival acclaim). How do you get people to listen to you? No one knows, of course (Robert Pollard suggests complaining). But if you're Sleater-Kinney, you learn some new tricks and give it everything you've got. We're still jaded, but maybe The Woods could be a wake-up call. If we (the critics and the listeners) let it.

For three out of their last four records (including The Woods), Sleater-Kinney have maintained that they wanted to try something new. On The Hot Rock, they broke rank with John Goodmanson and worked with producer Roger Moutenot (famed for Yo La Tengo's dreamy sound). One Beat featured horns and strings. Somehow, both those releases still sounded remarkably like Sleater-Kinney writing a new batch of quality songs. The "trying something new" part was probably what the band needed to get through the existential questions of rock band-ism, but fans still heard basically the same band they always loved. The Woods, though, is indeed a departure. The women have added the sound of classic rock to their punk handbag. Classic rock, as in huge guitars, near-constant drumming, and frequent operatic vocals. As in Led Zeppelin, The Who, and Jimi Hendrix. Sleater-Kinney go straight for the zeitgeist on The Woods. Young punk rock converts quickly learn to cast off these masters. Older and mature punk fans eventually listen to the two styles side-by-side, appreciating the beauty and slow precision of a Pete Townshend solo as much as the amateur energy and joy of the Slits. To have Sleater-Kinney converge upon these styles and create The Woods is a boon to the music world.

It all starts with feedback. Literally one second into the record and you are on the ride, and there's no getting off it unless you jump. The guitars, as mentioned, are huge. Ferocious. Corin Tucker holds it down (no bass here) while Carrie Brownstein meanders all over the place. You can imagine her fingers bleeding from playing so hard. Janet Weiss has always been an exceptional drummer, but on The Woods she lifts off into the stratosphere. The real thrill, though, is how Sleater-Kinney takes all this unleashed fury (and that's what it sounds like -- fury. Even more so than on any other S-K release) and shapes great, f'n rocking songs out of it.(...)

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review by: Drawerb
reviewer: Eric Greenwood
Album Value: (-/-)

Returning from the creative slump of One Beat, Portland, Oregon’s Sleater-Kinney has jumped from long-time label, Kill Rock Stars, to almost-major-label, Sub Pop, and surprisingly churned out its most explosive album in years with The Woods. Even if Corin Tucker’s flailing vibrato wail grates on your nerves after a few songs, her new found appreciation for bristling, feedback-drenched, borderline psychedelic guitar interplay with bandmate Carrie Brownstein will surely make you re-evaluate the cause. Flaming Lips producer David Fridmann is responsible for nurturing the abrupt dynamic shift, but Tucker and Brownstein rise to the challenge with fistfuls of artful noise. Not exactly radio friendly, The Woods explores sonic deconstruction a la Led Zeppelin and Jimi Hendrix instead of the preciously catchy indie pop hooks you’ve come to expect.

It’s far and away the most raucous thing the band has ever recorded and Janet Weiss’ drumming pounds harder than anything since 1997’s Dig Me Out. The band sounds urgent and reinvigorated on caustic barn burners “Wilderness” and the 11-plus minute epic “Let’s Call It Love”- like it’s making music because it has to or it will whither up and die. With an album this uncommercial and experimental, I seriously doubt you’ll see Sleater-Kinney on The O.C. next season, but you will see the band on my iPod.

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