Named after a freeway exit near their practice space, and often mispronounced by people who have only read it, (it rhymes with “Skater”) Sleater-Kinney have spent an almost 30 year career synonymous with the Riot grrrl movement and rocking harder sans-bass player than most bands could with two or three (which by the way, we don’t advise adding to your project’s line-up). The band has had a few casting changes behind the drum kit over the years, but the longest running order has consisted of Janet Weiss on drums, with the unchanged frontwoman duo of Carrie Brownstein (lead guitar/vocals) and Corrin Tucker (lead vocals/guitar). Over the course of ten studio albums the band has veered into territory ranging from self-serious, sarcastic, heartbroken, gloomy, silly, and almost always political. Maybe you first heard of the feminist rock icons because you finished “Portlandia” and wanted more content starring Carrie Brownstein, or maybe you’ve been following the trio to tiny venues around the Pacific Northwest since the mid-90s, but either way, if they come up in conversation you’re gonna need to know how to put their albums in the right order. Don’t worry. We got you. Here’s every Sleater-Kinney album ranked.
10. Path of Wellness (2021)
S-K’s most recent record is their first since the departure of long-time drummer Janet Weiss, who cited not being treated as a creative equal within the band as the reason for her exit. Her absence is felt. Those of us who have been in bands know how annoying it is to have to listen to the drummer’s ideas, but when you have one as good as Weiss, it might be worth feigning enthusiasm. “Path of Wellness” is technically a rock album, but it sounds like a rock album you’d make after your mom yelled at you to keep it down a few too many times. The guitars are oddly muted, invoking a lack of conviction more than a stylistic choice, and the drums (helmed here by Angie Boylan) seem like an afterthought. There are silver linings to the record—Tucker adds a bassy low register to her already impressive vocal range, and the mid-album highlight “Favorite Neighbor” captures a bit of the spark of their early work— but like most of 2021, “Path of Wellness” is largely dreary and skippable.
Play it again: “Favorite Neighbor”
Skip it: “Complex Female Characters”
9. The Center Won’t Hold (2019)
Often, when established musicians get in the control booth to produce another artist’s record, their sole instinct seems to be “Let’s make this sound exactly like one of my albums.” (Think David Bowie producing Lou Reed and Iggy Pop, or Jeff Lynne with George Harrison.) St. Vincent was no exception to this tendency when producing “The Center Won’t Hold.” For the most part, this is not necessarily a bad thing— Sleater-Kinney go full-on indie-pop on the tracks “Hurry On Home” and “Can I Go On” — and it’s great. The first half of the album is catchy as hell, and nods to a potentially fun new direction for the band. Unfortunately, the record generally fails to live up to the promise of its excellent opener/title-track, and never regains its footing after the swing-and-a-miss foray into industrial rock on its sixth track, “RUINS.” Most of “Center Won’t Hold” sounds more like growing pains than growth, but there’s a good EP in there if you’re willing to do your own editing.
Play it again: “The Center Won’t Hold”
Skip it: “RUINS”
8. Self-Titled (1995)
From this point of the list on, they’re all great albums. Did you hear me? I’m saying their first album is great, and I want the record to reflect that. So you’re not allowed to say that we did their early work dirty, because if you do, we’ll know you didn’t read the article. It’s great, it’s great, it’s GREAT— they just got EVEN BETTER after this. This self-titled debut was recorded while Tucker and Brownstein were still in other bands and S-K was the side project, but the energy and immediacy of these ten tracks makes it easy to see why this band eclipsed their others. Tucker handles the lion’s share of the singing on this one, as her and Brownstein’s charismatic vocal interplay had yet to develop into the signature back-and-forth dynamic we now know and love, and her intentionally abrasive voice comes across raw and powerful. The somewhat amateurish production adds to the album’s charm more than it detracts, and “Sleater-Kinney” is a perfectly punk rock mission statement from the riot grrrls that spawned it.
Play it again: “Lora’s Song”
Skip it: Honestly? It’s 22 minutes long. Relax and enjoy the ride.
7. All Hands on the Bad One (2000)
After reaching some mainstream success with their previous two albums, Sleater-Kinney leaned back into their punk-scene roots by reminding you that you don’t own them. The band had never actually sold out their early ethos, but just in case you thought they had, “All Hands on the Bad One” serves as a stark reassertion of who you’re dealing with. It’s as overtly feminist a record as the band ever made, with much of the lyrical content addressing the sexist condescension they endured as women in rock (the opener “The Ballad of a Ladyman” is a harsh comeback to an unnamed concert promoter who referred to S-K’s rooms as “reserved for the ladymen.” “You’re No Rock n’ Roll Fun” responds to bullshit complaints from the boys club that the band is, well, no fun.) It’s pointed but not preachy, and has an in-the-room, live sound reminiscent of their first couple releases. It’s what Sleater-Kinney does best: confident, no frills rock and roll.
Play it again: “Ironclad”
Skip it: None, you misogynist.
6. Call the Doctor (1996)
S-K’s second album was their first release as a full-time band, and they avoid a sophomore slump by both tightening up musically and turning up the snarling attitude and sense of political alienation introduced on their debut. The opening/title track is a vitriolic denouncement of capitalism commodifying our dreams and selling them back to us wrapped in plastic (the particularly prescient line “They want to simplify your needs and likes/to sterilize you” plays like a dire warning against the data-driven marketplace we inhabit now). Tucker’s refrain of “Damn you!” that opens and closes the thrashy highlight “Little Mouth” hits with enough venom to put at least five bucks in the swear jar. The confident swagger of “I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone” is Brownstein’s pronouncement as the other formidable vocal talent of the group, and her dripping-with-sarcasm delivery on the verses perfectly set up Tucker to howl that she’s “the queen of rock n’ roll”. And just when you’re getting all moshed out, there’s a beautiful, slow eulogy for lost love in “Good Things.” “Call the Doctor” was the one to put the band on the map outside of their native Pacific Northwest, and it’s not hard to see why.
Play it again: “Little Mouth”
Skip it: None.
5. The Hot Rock (1999)
After putting out two back-to-back rockers that established them as critical darlings, Sleater-Kinney zigged and hit us with an emo one. “The Hot Rock” has the ennui of some of their former Kill Rock Stars label-mate Elliott Smith, filtered through the dissonant grunge riff-machine the band seemed to always have on hand. The personal is political on “The Hot Rock”, as S-K find themselves preoccupied with failed relationships, spirituality, and the pressures of the band life. Fans who listened closely to the previous albums wouldn’t be too surprised — “Call the Doctor” and “Dig Me Out” may have been a bit faster/louder, but S-K hadn’t exactly shied away from vulnerable content up to this point (half of “Dig Me Out” is about the break-up that took place between Tucker/Brownstein, but more on that later). Minor keys and slower tempos underline the gloomy mood on this one, making it a perfect rock record for a rainy day.
Play it again: “God Is a Number”
Skip it: None.
4. One Beat (2002)
The early-aughts kicked off an experimental period for Sleater-Kinney, and the extremely confident “One Beat” showcases a band leaning away from their garage rock past, and into their rock star present. That they’re able to make this transition without sacrificing their unique sound, or turning out a shiny and overproduced dud is notable, and the record doesn’t make any apologies for its scaled-up sound. On “One Beat”, S-K add wah pedals, synthesizers, and even horns to their heretofore stripped-down arrangements. These bells and whistles are used sparingly, however, and only serve to enhance how in-the-pocket the songwriting team of Tucker and Brownstein are on this one (according to Tucker, this was their most collaboratively written record). Some fans were skeptical of this new direction and scope, but they need not have feared: some of the best work was yet to come.
Play it again: “Oh!”
Skip it: None.
3. No Cities to Love (2015)
Sleater-Kinney emerged from a ten-year hiatus and made it worth the wait when they dropped “No Cities to Love” in 2015. The record is a lean 32 minutes and contains some of the best guitar riffs and most energetic songwriting of the band’s career. The guitar playing is fuzzy and fast, and Weiss excitedly fills every spare beat with percussive chatter. “Price Tag” is the best opening track they’ve ever done, “Fangless” is anything but, “Surface Envy” is a fist-pumping anthem that could be considered an alt-rock “We’re Not Gonna Take It” — and that’s just the first three songs! This record doesn’t let up, and it rings with the joy of something that only exists because the band wanted it to. If this is the result of a decade off, a lot of our favorite groups should follow suit.
Play it again: “A New Wave”
Skip it: None. You waited ten years for this!
2. The Woods (2005)
On “The Woods,” Sleater-Kinney continue to revel in the throw-shit-at-the-wall technique established on its precedent, and this try-anything spirit yields the band’s heaviest album to date. “The Woods” is S-K’s first record for Sub Pop, and it can go riff for riff with any grunge act to ever grace the label. Producer Dave Fridmann turns the band up loud, and Tucker in particular sounds like she’s singing for her life. “The Woods” represents the band’s only real foray into classic rock, as Tucker and Brownstein mix a heavy dose of prog into their guitar work, with Weiss hitting the toms like Bonham. This album also contains S-K’s best campfire jam, the Brownstein-penned/sung “Modern Girl.” The song is a darkly humorous satire of the endless quest for inner peace through consumption, and if you’ve only heard one song by the band, it’s probably this. “The Woods” was the last album from S-K until “No Cities to Love” would break their ten year silence. If it had been their final word, you couldn’t ask for a better swan song. Fortunately, they had more to say.
Play it again: “Entertain”
Skip it: None.
1. Dig Me Out (1997)
At some point between being outed as a couple by Spin Magazine (before either Tucker or Brownstein were out to their families) and recording their finest record, Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein broke up. Around the same period, Janet Weiss joined the band on drums and cemented the best Sleater-Kinney line-up before or since. Given all this change, it’s not surprising that ruminating on the start and end of things resonates all through “Dig Me Out”. Romances and romantic blowback within bands are nothing notable, but the fact that Tucker and Brownstein’s artistic collaboration thrived and proliferated as much as it did after breaking up is. On “Dig Me Out” Brownstein shares a much larger part of the vocal duties with Tucker than in their previous work. The duo’s call-and-response counter melodies would be an integral aspect of every album after. Wisely, the band has never really dished much out about the heartbreak between the two, but the songs on here make it sound rough. (“Heart Factory” is particularly seething, and I can only imagine the vibe rehearsing that one was abysmal.) Broken relationships are far from the only topic on the table in “Dig Me Out”, though — “Words and Guitar” is a joyous ode to music itself, “Little Babies” satirizes regressive gender roles, and the title song uses visceral, gory imagery to invoke the feeling of overexposure sometimes inherent to being an artist. Sonically, it’s the sweet spot of a band still in its indie phase, but in total command of what they’re doing. And unlike Fleetwood Mac’s best work, it shows you don’t have to do all the cocaine in the world to make a great break-up record.
Play it again: “Jenny”
Skip it: None.